Part 66

KING HENRY. No; ’tis hereafter to know, but now to promise. Do but now promise, Kate, you will endeavour for your French part of such a boy; and for my English moiety, take the word of a king and a bachelor. How answer you, _la plus belle Katherine du monde, mon très cher et divin déesse?_

KATHARINE. Your Majestee ’ave _fausse_ French enough to deceive de most _sage demoiselle_ dat is _en France_.

KING HENRY. Now, fie upon my false French! By mine honour, in true English, I love thee, Kate; by which honour I dare not swear thou lovest me; yet my blood begins to flatter me that thou dost, notwithstanding the poor and untempering effect of my visage. Now, beshrew my father’s ambition! He was thinking of civil wars when he got me; therefore was I created with a stubborn outside, with an aspect of iron, that, when I come to woo ladies, I fright them. But, in faith, Kate, the elder I wax, the better I shall appear. My comfort is, that old age, that ill layer up of beauty, can do no more spoil upon my face. Thou hast me, if thou hast me, at the worst; and thou shalt wear me, if thou wear me, better and better; and therefore tell me, most fair Katharine, will you have me? Put off your maiden blushes; avouch the thoughts of your heart with the looks of an empress; take me by the hand, and say, Harry of England, I am thine; which word thou shalt no sooner bless mine ear withal, but I will tell thee aloud, England is thine, Ireland is thine, France is thine, and Henry Plantagenet is thine; who, though I speak it before his face, if he be not fellow with the best king, thou shalt find the best king of good fellows. Come, your answer in broken music; for thy voice is music and thy English broken; therefore, queen of all, Katharine, break thy mind to me in broken English. Wilt thou have me?

KATHARINE. Dat is as it shall please _le roi mon père_.

KING HENRY. Nay, it will please him well, Kate; it shall please him, Kate.

KATHARINE. Den it sall also content me.

KING HENRY. Upon that I kiss your hand, and call you my queen.

KATHARINE. _Laissez, mon seigneur, laissez, laissez! Ma foi, je ne veux point que vous abaissiez votre grandeur en baisant la main d’une—Notre Seigneur!—indigne serviteur. Excusez-moi, je vous supplie, mon très-puissant seigneur._

KING HENRY. Then I will kiss your lips, Kate.

KATHARINE. _Les dames et demoiselles pour être baisées devant leurs noces, il n’est pas la coutume de France._

KING HENRY. Madame my interpreter, what says she?

ALICE. Dat it is not be de fashion _pour les_ ladies of France,—I cannot tell wat is _baiser en_ Anglish.

KING HENRY. To kiss.

ALICE. Your Majestee _entend_ bettre _que moi_.

KING HENRY. It is not a fashion for the maids in France to kiss before they are married, would she say?

ALICE. _Oui, vraiment._

KING HENRY. O Kate, nice customs curtsy to great kings. Dear Kate, you and I cannot be confined within the weak list of a country’s fashion. We are the makers of manners, Kate; and the liberty that follows our places stops the mouth of all find-faults, as I will do yours, for upholding the nice fashion of your country in denying me a kiss; therefore, patiently and yielding. [_Kissing her._] You have witchcraft in your lips, Kate; there is more eloquence in a sugar touch of them than in the tongues of the French council; and they should sooner persuade Harry of England than a general petition of monarchs. Here comes your father.

Enter the French Power and the English Lords.

BURGUNDY. God save your Majesty! My royal cousin, teach you our princess English?

KING HENRY. I would have her learn, my fair cousin, how perfectly I love her; and that is good English.

BURGUNDY. Is she not apt?

KING HENRY. Our tongue is rough, coz, and my condition is not smooth; so that, having neither the voice nor the heart of flattery about me, I cannot so conjure up the spirit of love in her, that he will appear in his true likeness.

BURGUNDY. Pardon the frankness of my mirth, if I answer you for that. If you would conjure in her, you must make a circle; if conjure up Love in her in his true likeness, he must appear naked and blind. Can you blame her then, being a maid yet ros’d over with the virgin crimson of modesty, if she deny the appearance of a naked blind boy in her naked seeing self? It were, my lord, a hard condition for a maid to consign to.

KING HENRY. Yet they do wink and yield, as love is blind and enforces.

BURGUNDY. They are then excus’d, my lord, when they see not what they do.

KING HENRY. Then, good my lord, teach your cousin to consent winking.

BURGUNDY. I will wink on her to consent, my lord, if you will teach her to know my meaning; for maids, well summer’d and warm kept, are like flies at Bartholomew-tide, blind, though they have their eyes; and then they will endure handling, which before would not abide looking on.

KING HENRY. This moral ties me over to time and a hot summer; and so I shall catch the fly, your cousin, in the latter end, and she must be blind too.

BURGUNDY. As love is, my lord, before it loves.

KING HENRY. It is so; and you may, some of you, thank love for my blindness, who cannot see many a fair French city for one fair French maid that stands in my way.

FRENCH KING. Yes, my lord, you see them perspectively, the cities turn’d into a maid; for they are all girdled with maiden walls that no war hath entered.

KING HENRY. Shall Kate be my wife?

FRENCH KING. So please you.

KING HENRY. I am content, so the maiden cities you talk of may wait on her; so the maid that stood in the way for my wish shall show me the way to my will.

FRENCH KING. We have consented to all terms of reason.

KING HENRY. Is’t so, my lords of England?

WESTMORLAND. The king hath granted every article; His daughter first, and then in sequel all, According to their firm proposed natures.

EXETER. Only he hath not yet subscribed this: where your Majesty demands, that the King of France, having any occasion to write for matter of grant, shall name your Highness in this form and with this addition, in French, _Notre très-cher fils Henri, Roi d’Angleterre, Héritier de France_; and thus in Latin, _Praeclarissimus filius noster Henricus, rex Angliae et haeres Franciae._

FRENCH KING. Nor this I have not, brother, so denied But our request shall make me let it pass.

KING HENRY. I pray you then, in love and dear alliance, Let that one article rank with the rest; And thereupon give me your daughter.

FRENCH KING. Take her, fair son, and from her blood raise up Issue to me; that the contending kingdoms Of France and England, whose very shores look pale With envy of each other’s happiness, May cease their hatred; and this dear conjunction Plant neighbourhood and Christian-like accord In their sweet bosoms, that never war advance His bleeding sword ’twixt England and fair France.

LORDS. Amen!

KING HENRY. Now, welcome, Kate; and bear me witness all, That here I kiss her as my sovereign queen.

[_Flourish._]

QUEEN ISABEL. God, the best maker of all marriages, Combine your hearts in one, your realms in one! As man and wife, being two, are one in love, So be there ’twixt your kingdoms such a spousal, That never may ill office, or fell jealousy, Which troubles oft the bed of blessed marriage, Thrust in between the paction of these kingdoms, To make divorce of their incorporate league; That English may as French, French Englishmen, Receive each other. God speak this Amen!

ALL. Amen!

KING HENRY. Prepare we for our marriage; on which day, My Lord of Burgundy, we’ll take your oath, And all the peers’, for surety of our leagues, Then shall I swear to Kate, and you to me; And may our oaths well kept and prosperous be!

[_Sennet. Exeunt._]

EPILOGUE.

Enter Chorus.

CHORUS. Thus far, with rough and all-unable pen, Our bending author hath pursu’d the story, In little room confining mighty men, Mangling by starts the full course of their glory. Small time, but in that small most greatly lived This star of England. Fortune made his sword, By which the world’s best garden he achieved, And of it left his son imperial lord. Henry the Sixth, in infant bands crown’d King Of France and England, did this king succeed; Whose state so many had the managing, That they lost France and made his England bleed: Which oft our stage hath shown; and, for their sake, In your fair minds let this acceptance take.

[_Exit._]

THE FIRST PART OF HENRY THE SIXTH

Contents

ACT I Scene I. Westminster Abbey Scene II. France. Before Orleans Scene III. London. Before the Tower Scene IV. Orleans Scene V. Before Orleans Scene VI. Orleans

ACT II SCENE I. Before Orleans SCENE II. Orleans. Within the town SCENE III. Auvergne. The Countess’s castle SCENE IV. London. The Temple Garden SCENE V. The Tower of London

ACT III SCENE I. London. The Parliament House SCENE II. France. Before Rouen SCENE III. The plains near Rouen SCENE IV. Paris. The Palace

ACT IV SCENE I. Paris. The Palace SCENE II. Before Bordeaux SCENE III. Plains in Gascony SCENE IV. Other plains in Gascony SCENE V. The English camp near Bordeaux SCENE VI. A field of battle SCENE VII. Another part of the field

ACT V SCENE I. London. The Palace SCENE II. France. Plains in Anjou SCENE III. Before Angiers SCENE IV. Camp of the Duke of York in Anjou SCENE V. London. The royal palace

Dramatis Personæ

KING HENRY the Sixth DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, uncle to the King, and Protector DUKE OF BEDFORD, uncle to the King, and Regent of France DUKE OF EXETER, (Thomas Beaufort), great-uncle to the King BISHOP OF WINCHESTER (Henry Beaufort), great-uncle to the King, afterwards Cardinal DUKE OF SOMERSET (John Beaufort) RICHARD PLANTAGENET, son of Richard, late Earl of Cambridge, afterwards Duke of York EARL OF WARWICK EARL OF SALISBURY EARL OF SUFFOLK LORD TALBOT, afterwards Earl of Shrewsbury JOHN TALBOT, his son Edmund MORTIMER, Earl of March SIR JOHN FASTOLF SIR WILLIAM LUCY SIR WILLIAM GLANSDALE SIR THOMAS GARGRAVE MAYOR of London WOODVILLE, Lieutenant of the Tower VERNON, of the White-Rose or York faction BASSET, of the Red-Rose or Lancaster faction A LAWYER Mortimer’s JAILERS

CHARLES, Dauphin, and afterwards King of France REIGNIER, Duke of Anjou, and titular King of Naples DUKE OF BURGUNDY DUKE OF ALENÇON BASTARD OF ORLEANS Governor of Paris MASTER GUNNER of Orleans and BOY, his son General of the French forces in Bordeaux A French Sergeant. A Porter An old Shepherd, father to Joan la Pucelle

MARGARET, daughter to Reignier, afterwards married to King Henry COUNTESS OF AUVERGNE JOAN LA PUCELLE, commonly called Joan of Arc

Lords, Warders of the Tower, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, and Attendants.

Fiends appearing to Joan la Pucelle

SCENE: Partly in England and partly in France

ACT I

SCENE I. Westminster Abbey.

Dead March. Enter the funeral of King Henry the Fifth, attended on by the Duke of Bedford, Regent of France; the Duke of Gloucester, Protector; the Duke of Exeter, the Earl of Warwick, the Bishop of Winchester, the Duke of Somerset with Heralds, &c.

BEDFORD. Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night! Comets, importing change of times and states, Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky, And with them scourge the bad revolting stars That have consented unto Henry’s death: King Henry the Fifth, too famous to live long! England ne’er lost a king of so much worth.

GLOUCESTER. England ne’er had a king until his time. Virtue he had, deserving to command; His brandish’d sword did blind men with his beams; His arms spread wider than a dragon’s wings; His sparkling eyes, replete with wrathful fire, More dazzled and drove back his enemies Than mid-day sun fierce bent against their faces. What should I say? His deeds exceed all speech. He ne’er lift up his hand but conquered.

EXETER. We mourn in black; why mourn we not in blood? Henry is dead and never shall revive. Upon a wooden coffin we attend, And Death’s dishonourable victory We with our stately presence glorify, Like captives bound to a triumphant car. What! Shall we curse the planets of mishap That plotted thus our glory’s overthrow? Or shall we think the subtle-witted French Conjurers and sorcerers, that, afraid of him, By magic verses have contriv’d his end?

WINCHESTER. He was a king bless’d of the King of kings; Unto the French the dreadful judgement-day So dreadful will not be as was his sight. The battles of the Lord of Hosts he fought: The Church’s prayers made him so prosperous.

GLOUCESTER. The Church! Where is it? Had not churchmen pray’d, His thread of life had not so soon decay’d. None do you like but an effeminate prince, Whom like a school-boy you may overawe.

WINCHESTER. Gloucester, whate’er we like, thou art Protector, And lookest to command the Prince and realm. Thy wife is proud; she holdeth thee in awe More than God or religious churchmen may.

GLOUCESTER. Name not religion, for thou lov’st the flesh, And ne’er throughout the year to church thou go’st, Except it be to pray against thy foes.

BEDFORD. Cease, cease these jars, and rest your minds in peace; Let’s to the altar; heralds, wait on us. Instead of gold, we’ll offer up our arms, Since arms avail not, now that Henry’s dead. Posterity, await for wretched years, When at their mothers’ moist eyes babes shall suck, Our isle be made a nourish of salt tears, And none but women left to wail the dead. Henry the Fifth, thy ghost I invocate: Prosper this realm, keep it from civil broils, Combat with adverse planets in the heavens. A far more glorious star thy soul will make Than Julius Caesar or bright—

Enter a Messenger.

MESSENGER. My honourable lords, health to you all! Sad tidings bring I to you out of France, Of loss, of slaughter, and discomfiture: Guienne, Champaigne, Rheims, Rouen, Orleans, Paris, Guysors, Poictiers, are all quite lost.

BEDFORD. What say’st thou, man, before dead Henry’s corse? Speak softly, or the loss of those great towns Will make him burst his lead and rise from death.

GLOUCESTER. Is Paris lost? Is Rouen yielded up? If Henry were recall’d to life again, These news would cause him once more yield the ghost.

EXETER. How were they lost? What treachery was us’d?

MESSENGER. No treachery, but want of men and money. Amongst the soldiers this is muttered: That here you maintain several factions And whilst a field should be dispatch’d and fought, You are disputing of your generals. One would have lingering wars with little cost; Another would fly swift, but wanteth wings; A third thinks, without expense at all, By guileful fair words peace may be obtain’d. Awake, awake, English nobility! Let not sloth dim your honours new-begot. Cropp’d are the flower-de-luces in your arms; Of England’s coat one half is cut away.

[_He exits._]

EXETER. Were our tears wanting to this funeral, These tidings would call forth their flowing tides.

BEDFORD. Me they concern; Regent I am of France. Give me my steeled coat. I’ll fight for France. Away with these disgraceful wailing robes! Wounds will I lend the French instead of eyes, To weep their intermissive miseries.

Enter to them another Messenger.

MESSENGER. Lords, view these letters full of bad mischance. France is revolted from the English quite, Except some petty towns of no import. The Dauphin Charles is crowned king in Rheims; The Bastard of Orleans with him is join’d; Reignier, Duke of Anjou, doth take his part; The Duke of Alençon flieth to his side.

[_He exits._]

EXETER. The Dauphin crowned king! All fly to him! O, whither shall we fly from this reproach?

GLOUCESTER. We will not fly but to our enemies’ throats. Bedford, if thou be slack, I’ll fight it out.

BEDFORD. Gloucester, why doubt’st thou of my forwardness? An army have I muster’d in my thoughts, Wherewith already France is overrun.

Enter another Messenger.

MESSENGER. My gracious lords, to add to your laments, Wherewith you now bedew King Henry’s hearse, I must inform you of a dismal fight Betwixt the stout Lord Talbot and the French.

WINCHESTER. What! Wherein Talbot overcame, is’t so?

MESSENGER. O no, wherein Lord Talbot was o’erthrown. The circumstance I’ll tell you more at large. The tenth of August last this dreadful lord, Retiring from the siege of Orleans, Having full scarce six thousand in his troop, By three and twenty thousand of the French Was round encompassed and set upon. No leisure had he to enrank his men; He wanted pikes to set before his archers; Instead whereof sharp stakes pluck’d out of hedges They pitched in the ground confusedly To keep the horsemen off from breaking in. More than three hours the fight continued; Where valiant Talbot, above human thought, Enacted wonders with his sword and lance. Hundreds he sent to hell, and none durst stand him; Here, there, and everywhere, enrag’d he slew. The French exclaim’d the devil was in arms; All the whole army stood agaz’d on him. His soldiers, spying his undaunted spirit, “A Talbot! a Talbot!” cried out amain, And rush’d into the bowels of the battle. Here had the conquest fully been seal’d up If Sir John Fastolf had not play’d the coward. He, being in the vaward, plac’d behind With purpose to relieve and follow them, Cowardly fled, not having struck one stroke. Hence grew the general wrack and massacre. Enclosed were they with their enemies. A base Walloon, to win the Dauphin’s grace, Thrust Talbot with a spear into the back, Whom all France, with their chief assembled strength, Durst not presume to look once in the face.

BEDFORD. Is Talbot slain? Then I will slay myself, For living idly here, in pomp and ease, Whilst such a worthy leader, wanting aid, Unto his dastard foemen is betray’d.

MESSENGER. O no, he lives, but is took prisoner, And Lord Scales with him, and Lord Hungerford; Most of the rest slaughter’d or took likewise.

BEDFORD. His ransom there is none but I shall pay. I’ll hale the Dauphin headlong from his throne; His crown shall be the ransom of my friend; Four of their lords I’ll change for one of ours. Farewell, my masters; to my task will I; Bonfires in France forthwith I am to make To keep our great Saint George’s feast withal. Ten thousand soldiers with me I will take, Whose bloody deeds shall make all Europe quake.

MESSENGER. So you had need; for Orleans is besieg’d The English army is grown weak and faint; The Earl of Salisbury craveth supply And hardly keeps his men from mutiny, Since they, so few, watch such a multitude.

[_He exits._]

EXETER. Remember, lords, your oaths to Henry sworn, Either to quell the Dauphin utterly, Or bring him in obedience to your yoke.

BEDFORD. I do remember it, and here take my leave To go about my preparation.

[_Exit._]

GLOUCESTER. I’ll to the Tower with all the haste I can To view th’ artillery and munition; And then I will proclaim young Henry king.

[_Exit._]

EXETER. To Eltham will I, where the young King is, Being ordain’d his special governor; And for his safety there I’ll best devise.

[_Exit._]

WINCHESTER. Each hath his place and function to attend. I am left out; for me nothing remains. But long I will not be Jack out of office. The King from Eltham I intend to steal, And sit at chiefest stern of public weal.

[_Exeunt._]

SCENE II. France. Before Orleans

Sound a Flourish. Enter Charles, Alençon and Reignier, marching with Drum and Soldiers.

CHARLES. Mars his true moving, even as in the heavens So in the earth, to this day is not known. Late did he shine upon the English side; Now we are victors; upon us he smiles. What towns of any moment but we have? At pleasure here we lie near Orleans, Otherwhiles the famish’d English, like pale ghosts, Faintly besiege us one hour in a month.

ALENÇON. They want their porridge and their fat bull beeves. Either they must be dieted like mules And have their provender tied to their mouths, Or piteous they will look, like drowned mice.

REIGNIER. Let’s raise the siege. Why live we idly here? Talbot is taken, whom we wont to fear. Remaineth none but mad-brain’d Salisbury, And he may well in fretting spend his gall; Nor men nor money hath he to make war.

CHARLES. Sound, sound alarum! We will rush on them. Now for the honour of the forlorn French! Him I forgive my death that killeth me When he sees me go back one foot or fly.

[_Exeunt._]

Here alarum; they are beaten back by the English, with great loss. Re-enter Charles, Alençon and Reignier.

CHARLES. Who ever saw the like? What men have I! Dogs, cowards, dastards! I would ne’er have fled But that they left me ’midst my enemies.

REIGNIER. Salisbury is a desperate homicide; He fighteth as one weary of his life. The other lords, like lions wanting food, Do rush upon us as their hungry prey.

ALENÇON. Froissart, a countryman of ours, records, England all Olivers and Rowlands bred During the time Edward the Third did reign. More truly now may this be verified; For none but Samsons and Goliases It sendeth forth to skirmish. One to ten! Lean raw-bon’d rascals! Who would e’er suppose They had such courage and audacity?

CHARLES. Let’s leave this town; for they are hare-brain’d slaves, And hunger will enforce them to be more eager. Of old I know them; rather with their teeth The walls they’ll tear down than forsake the siege.

REIGNIER. I think by some odd gimmers or device Their arms are set like clocks, still to strike on; Else ne’er could they hold out so as they do. By my consent, we’ll even let them alone.

ALENÇON. Be it so.

Enter the Bastard of Orleans.

BASTARD. Where’s the Prince Dauphin? I have news for him.

CHARLES. Bastard of Orleans, thrice welcome to us.

BASTARD. Methinks your looks are sad, your cheer appall’d. Hath the late overthrow wrought this offence? Be not dismay’d, for succour is at hand. A holy maid hither with me I bring, Which, by a vision sent to her from heaven Ordained is to raise this tedious siege And drive the English forth the bounds of France. The spirit of deep prophecy she hath, Exceeding the nine sibyls of old Rome. What’s past and what’s to come she can descry. Speak, shall I call her in? Believe my words, For they are certain and unfallible.

CHARLES. Go, call her in.

[_Exit Bastard._]

But first, to try her skill, Reignier, stand thou as Dauphin in my place; Question her proudly; let thy looks be stern. By this means shall we sound what skill she hath.

Re-enter the Bastard of Orleans, with Joan la Pucelle.

REIGNIER. Fair maid, is ’t thou wilt do these wondrous feats?

PUCELLE. Reignier is ’t thou that thinkest to beguile me? Where is the Dauphin? Come, come from behind; I know thee well, though never seen before. Be not amazed, there’s nothing hid from me. In private will I talk with thee apart. Stand back, you lords, and give us leave awhile.

REIGNIER. She takes upon her bravely at first dash.

PUCELLE. Dauphin, I am by birth a shepherd’s daughter, My wit untrain’d in any kind of art. Heaven and our Lady gracious hath it pleased To shine on my contemptible estate. Lo, whilst I waited on my tender lambs, And to sun’s parching heat display’d my cheeks, God’s mother deigned to appear to me, And in a vision full of majesty Will’d me to leave my base vocation And free my country from calamity. Her aid she promised and assured success. In complete glory she reveal’d herself; And, whereas I was black and swart before, With those clear rays which she infused on me That beauty am I blest with which you may see. Ask me what question thou canst possible, And I will answer unpremeditated. My courage try by combat, if thou dar’st, And thou shalt find that I exceed my sex. Resolve on this; thou shalt be fortunate If thou receive me for thy warlike mate.

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.