# The Complete Works of William Shakespeare ## Part 69 Book page: https://www.cyberlibrary.org/en/books/the-complete-works-of-william-shakespeare-100/index.md KING HENRY. Stoop then and set your knee against my foot; And in reguerdon of that duty done I girt thee with the valiant sword of York. Rise, Richard, like a true Plantagenet, And rise created princely Duke of York. PLANTAGENET. And so thrive Richard as thy foes may fall! And as my duty springs, so perish they That grudge one thought against your Majesty! ALL. Welcome, high prince, the mighty Duke of York! SOMERSET. [_Aside_.] Perish, base prince, ignoble Duke of York! GLOUCESTER. Now will it best avail your Majesty To cross the seas and to be crown’d in France. The presence of a king engenders love Amongst his subjects and his loyal friends, As it disanimates his enemies. KING HENRY. When Gloucester says the word, King Henry goes; For friendly counsel cuts off many foes. GLOUCESTER. Your ships already are in readiness. [_Sennet. Flourish. Exeunt all but Exeter._] EXETER. Ay, we may march in England or in France, Not seeing what is likely to ensue. This late dissension grown betwixt the peers Burns under feigned ashes of forged love, And will at last break out into a flame; As festered members rot but by degree Till bones and flesh and sinews fall away, So will this base and envious discord breed. And now I fear that fatal prophecy Which in the time of Henry named the Fifth Was in the mouth of every sucking babe: That Henry born at Monmouth should win all, And Henry born at Windsor lose all, Which is so plain that Exeter doth wish His days may finish ere that hapless time. [_Exit._] SCENE II. France. Before Rouen. Enter La Pucelle with four Soldiers with sacks upon their backs. PUCELLE. These are the city gates, the gates of Rouen, Through which our policy must make a breach. Take heed, be wary how you place your words; Talk like the vulgar sort of market men That come to gather money for their corn. If we have entrance, as I hope we shall, And that we find the slothful watch but weak, I’ll by a sign give notice to our friends, That Charles the Dauphin may encounter them. FIRST SOLDIER. Our sacks shall be a mean to sack the city, And we be lords and rulers over Rouen; Therefore we’ll knock. [_Knocks._] WATCH. [_Within_.] _Qui est la?_ PUCELLE. _Paysans, la pauvres gens de France:_ Poor market folks that come to sell their corn. WATCH. Enter, go in; the market bell is rung. PUCELLE. Now, Rouen, I’ll shake thy bulwarks to the ground. [_Exeunt._] Enter Charles, the Bastard of Orleans, Alençon, Reignier and forces. CHARLES. Saint Denis bless this happy stratagem, And once again we’ll sleep secure in Rouen. BASTARD. Here enter’d Pucelle and her practisants; Now she is there, how will she specify Here is the best and safest passage in? REIGNIER. By thrusting out a torch from yonder tower, Which, once discern’d, shows that her meaning is: No way to that, for weakness, which she enter’d. Enter La Pucelle, on the top, thrusting out a torch burning. PUCELLE. Behold, this is the happy wedding torch That joineth Rouen unto her countrymen, But burning fatal to the Talbonites. [_Exit._] BASTARD. See, noble Charles, the beacon of our friend; The burning torch, in yonder turret stands. CHARLES. Now shine it like a comet of revenge, A prophet to the fall of all our foes! REIGNIER. Defer no time, delays have dangerous ends; Enter and cry, “The Dauphin!” presently, And then do execution on the watch. [_Alarum. Exeunt._] An alarum. Enter Talbot in an excursion. TALBOT. France, thou shalt rue this treason with thy tears, If Talbot but survive thy treachery. Pucelle, that witch, that damned sorceress, Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares, That hardly we escaped the pride of France. [_Exit._] An alarum. Excursions. Bedford, brought in sick in a chair. Enter Talbot and Burgundy without: within, La Pucelle, Charles, Bastard, Alençon, and Reignier on the walls. PUCELLE. Good morrow, gallants! Want ye corn for bread? I think the Duke of Burgundy will fast Before he’ll buy again at such a rate. ’Twas full of darnel. Do you like the taste? BURGUNDY. Scoff on, vile fiend and shameless courtezan! I trust ere long to choke thee with thine own, And make thee curse the harvest of that corn. CHARLES. Your Grace may starve, perhaps, before that time. BEDFORD. O, let no words, but deeds, revenge this treason! PUCELLE. What will you do, good graybeard? Break a lance And run a tilt at Death within a chair? TALBOT. Foul fiend of France and hag of all despite, Encompass’d with thy lustful paramours, Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age And twit with cowardice a man half dead? Damsel, I’ll have a bout with you again, Or else let Talbot perish with this shame. PUCELLE. Are ye so hot? Yet, Pucelle, hold thy peace; If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow. [_The English whisper together in council._] God speed the Parliament! Who shall be the Speaker? TALBOT. Dare ye come forth and meet us in the field? PUCELLE. Belike your lordship takes us then for fools, To try if that our own be ours or no. TALBOT. I speak not to that railing Hecate, But unto thee, Alençon, and the rest; Will ye, like soldiers, come and fight it out? ALENÇON. Seignieur, no. TALBOT. Seignieur, hang! Base muleteers of France! Like peasant foot-boys do they keep the walls, And dare not take up arms like gentlemen. PUCELLE. Away, captains! Let’s get us from the walls, For Talbot means no goodness by his looks. Goodbye, my lord; we came but to tell you That we are here. [_Exeunt from the walls._] TALBOT. And there will we be too, ere it be long, Or else reproach be Talbot’s greatest fame! Vow, Burgundy, by honour of thy house, Prick’d on by public wrongs sustain’d in France, Either to get the town again or die. And I, as sure as English Henry lives, And as his father here was conqueror, As sure as in this late-betrayed town Great Coeur-de-lion’s heart was buried, So sure I swear to get the town or die. BURGUNDY. My vows are equal partners with thy vows. TALBOT. But, ere we go, regard this dying prince, The valiant Duke of Bedford. Come, my lord, We will bestow you in some better place, Fitter for sickness and for crazy age. BEDFORD. Lord Talbot, do not so dishonour me. Here will I sit before the walls of Rouen, And will be partner of your weal or woe. BURGUNDY. Courageous Bedford, let us now persuade you. BEDFORD. Not to be gone from hence; for once I read That stout Pendragon in his litter sick Came to the field and vanquished his foes. Methinks I should revive the soldiers’ hearts, Because I ever found them as myself. TALBOT. Undaunted spirit in a dying breast! Then be it so. Heavens keep old Bedford safe! And now no more ado, brave Burgundy, But gather we our forces out of hand And set upon our boasting enemy. [_Exeunt all but Bedford and Attendants._] An alarum. Excursions. Enter Sir John Fastolf and a Captain. CAPTAIN. Whither away, Sir John Fastolf, in such haste? FASTOLF. Whither away? To save myself by flight. We are like to have the overthrow again. CAPTAIN. What! Will you fly, and leave Lord Talbot? FASTOLF. Ay, All the Talbots in the world, to save my life. [_Exit._] CAPTAIN. Cowardly knight, ill fortune follow thee! [_Exit._] Retreat. Excursions. La Pucelle, Alençon and Charles fly. BEDFORD. Now, quiet soul, depart when heaven please, For I have seen our enemies’ overthrow. What is the trust or strength of foolish man? They that of late were daring with their scoffs Are glad and fain by flight to save themselves. [_Bedford dies, and is carried in by two in his chair._] An alarum. Enter Talbot, Burgundy and the rest. TALBOT. Lost, and recover’d in a day again! This is a double honour, Burgundy. Yet heavens have glory for this victory! BURGUNDY. Warlike and martial Talbot, Burgundy Enshrines thee in his heart, and there erects Thy noble deeds as valour’s monuments. TALBOT. Thanks, gentle Duke. But where is Pucelle now? I think her old familiar is asleep. Now where’s the Bastard’s braves, and Charles his gleeks? What, all amort? Rouen hangs her head for grief That such a valiant company are fled. Now will we take some order in the town, Placing therein some expert officers, And then depart to Paris to the King, For there young Henry with his nobles lie. BURGUNDY. What wills Lord Talbot pleaseth Burgundy. TALBOT. But yet, before we go, let’s not forget The noble Duke of Bedford late deceased, But see his exequies fulfill’d in Rouen. A braver soldier never couched lance, A gentler heart did never sway in court; But kings and mightiest potentates must die, For that’s the end of human misery. [_Exeunt._] SCENE III. The plains near Rouen. Enter Charles, the Bastard of Orleans, Alençon, La Pucelle and forces. PUCELLE. Dismay not, princes, at this accident, Nor grieve that Rouen is so recovered. Care is no cure, but rather corrosive, For things that are not to be remedied. Let frantic Talbot triumph for a while And like a peacock sweep along his tail; We’ll pull his plumes and take away his train, If Dauphin and the rest will be but ruled. CHARLES. We have been guided by thee hitherto, And of thy cunning had no diffidence. One sudden foil shall never breed distrust BASTARD. Search out thy wit for secret policies, And we will make thee famous through the world. ALENÇON. We’ll set thy statue in some holy place, And have thee reverenced like a blessed saint. Employ thee then, sweet virgin, for our good. PUCELLE. Then thus it must be; this doth Joan devise: By fair persuasions mix’d with sugar’d words We will entice the Duke of Burgundy To leave the Talbot and to follow us. CHARLES. Ay, marry, sweeting, if we could do that, France were no place for Henry’s warriors; Nor should that nation boast it so with us, But be extirped from our provinces. ALENÇON. For ever should they be expulsed from France, And not have title of an earldom here. PUCELLE. Your honours shall perceive how I will work To bring this matter to the wished end. [_Drum sounds afar off._] Hark! By the sound of drum you may perceive Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward. [_Here sound an English march._] There goes the Talbot, with his colours spread, And all the troops of English after him. [_French march._] Now in the rearward comes the Duke and his. Fortune in favour makes him lag behind. Summon a parley; we will talk with him. [_Trumpets sound a parley._] CHARLES. A parley with the Duke of Burgundy! Enter Burgundy. BURGUNDY. Who craves a parley with the Burgundy? PUCELLE. The princely Charles of France, thy countryman. BURGUNDY. What say’st thou, Charles? for I am marching hence. CHARLES. Speak, Pucelle, and enchant him with thy words. PUCELLE. Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France, Stay, let thy humble handmaid speak to thee. BURGUNDY. Speak on, but be not over-tedious. PUCELLE. Look on thy country, look on fertile France, And see the cities and the towns defaced By wasting ruin of the cruel foe. As looks the mother on her lowly babe When death doth close his tender dying eyes, See, see the pining malady of France; Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds, Which thou thyself hast given her woeful breast. O, turn thy edged sword another way; Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that help. One drop of blood drawn from thy country’s bosom Should grieve thee more than streams of foreign gore. Return thee therefore with a flood of tears, And wash away thy country’s stained spots. BURGUNDY. Either she hath bewitch’d me with her words, Or nature makes me suddenly relent. PUCELLE. Besides, all French and France exclaims on thee, Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny. Who join’st thou with but with a lordly nation That will not trust thee but for profit’s 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 fugitive? Call we to mind, and mark but this for proof: Was not the Duke of Orleans thy foe? And was he not in England prisoner? But when they heard he was thine enemy, They set him free without his ransom paid, In spite of Burgundy and all his friends. See then, thou fight’st against thy countrymen, And join’st with them will be thy slaughtermen. Come, come, return; return, thou wandering lord; Charles and the rest will take thee in their arms. BURGUNDY. I am vanquished; these haughty words of hers Have batter’d me like roaring cannon-shot, And made me almost yield upon my knees. Forgive me, country, and sweet countrymen! And, lords, accept this hearty kind embrace. My forces and my power of men are yours. So, farewell, Talbot; I’ll no longer trust thee. PUCELLE. [_Aside_.] Done like a Frenchman: turn and turn again. CHARLES. Welcome, brave Duke! Thy friendship makes us fresh. BASTARD. And doth beget new courage in our breasts. ALENÇON. Pucelle hath bravely play’d her part in this, And doth deserve a coronet of gold. CHARLES. Now let us on, my lords, and join our powers, And seek how we may prejudice the foe. [_Exeunt._] SCENE IV. Paris. The Palace. Enter the King, Gloucester, Bishop of Winchester, Exeter, York, Warwick and Vernon; Suffolk, Somerset, Basset and others. To them, with his soldiers, Talbot. TALBOT. My gracious Prince, and honourable peers, Hearing of your arrival in this realm, I have awhile given truce unto my wars To do my duty to my sovereign; In sign whereof, this arm, that hath reclaim’d To your obedience fifty fortresses, Twelve cities and seven walled towns of strength, Beside five hundred prisoners of esteem, Lets fall his sword before your Highness’ feet, And with submissive loyalty of heart Ascribes the glory of his conquest got First to my God, and next unto your Grace. [_Kneels_.] KING HENRY. Is this the Lord Talbot, uncle Gloucester, That hath so long been resident in France? GLOUCESTER. Yes, if it please your Majesty, my liege. KING HENRY. Welcome, brave captain and victorious lord! When I was young, as yet I am not old, I do remember how my father said A stouter champion never handled sword. Long since we were resolved of your truth, Your faithful service, and your toil in war; Yet never have you tasted our reward, Or been reguerdon’d with so much as thanks. Because till now we never saw your face. Therefore, stand up; and for these good deserts We here create you Earl of Shrewsbury; And in our coronation take your place. [_Sennet. Flourish. Exeunt all but Vernon and Basset._] VERNON. Now, sir, to you that were so hot at sea, Disgracing of these colours that I wear In honour of my noble Lord of York, Dar’st thou maintain the former words thou spak’st? BASSET. Yes, sir, as well as you dare patronage The envious barking of your saucy tongue Against my lord the Duke of Somerset. VERNON. Sirrah, thy lord I honour as he is. BASSET. Why, what is he? As good a man as York. VERNON. Hark ye; not so: in witness, take ye that. [_Strikes him._] BASSET. Villain, thou knowest the law of arms is such That whoso draws a sword, ’tis present death, Or else this blow should broach thy dearest blood. But I’ll unto his Majesty, and crave I may have liberty to venge this wrong; When thou shalt see I’ll meet thee to thy cost. VERNON. Well, miscreant, I’ll be there as soon as you; And, after, meet you sooner than you would. [_Exeunt._] ACT IV SCENE I. Paris. The Palace. Enter the King, Gloucester, Bishop of Winchester, Talbot, Exeter, York, and Warwick; Suffolk, Somerset, the Governor of Paris, and others. GLOUCESTER. Lord bishop, set the crown upon his head. WINCHESTER. God save King Henry, of that name the Sixth! GLOUCESTER. Now, Governor of Paris, take your oath, That you elect no other king but him; Esteem none friends but such as are his friends, And none your foes but such as shall pretend Malicious practices against his state: This shall ye do, so help you righteous God! Enter Sir John Fastolf. FASTOLF. My gracious sovereign, as I rode from Calais, To haste unto your coronation, A letter was deliver’d to my hands, Writ to your Grace from th’ Duke of Burgundy. TALBOT. Shame to the Duke of Burgundy and thee! I vow’d, base knight, when I did meet thee next, To tear the Garter from thy craven’s leg, [_Plucking it off_.] Which I have done, because unworthily Thou wast installed in that high degree. Pardon me, princely Henry, and the rest. This dastard, at the battle of Patay, When but in all I was six thousand strong And that the French were almost ten to one, Before we met or that a stroke was given, Like to a trusty squire did run away; In which assault we lost twelve hundred men; Myself and divers gentlemen beside Were there surprised and taken prisoners. Then judge, great lords, if I have done amiss, Or whether that such cowards ought to wear This ornament of knighthood, yea or no? GLOUCESTER. To say the truth, this fact was infamous And ill beseeming any common man, Much more a knight, a captain, and a leader. TALBOT. When first this Order was ordain’d, my lords, Knights of the Garter were of noble birth, Valiant and virtuous, full of haughty courage, Such as were grown to credit by the wars; Not fearing death nor shrinking for distress, But always resolute in most extremes. He then that is not furnish’d in this sort Doth but usurp the sacred name of knight, Profaning this most honourable Order, And should, if I were worthy to be judge, Be quite degraded, like a hedge-born swain That doth presume to boast of gentle blood. KING HENRY. Stain to thy countrymen, thou hear’st thy doom! Be packing, therefore, thou that wast a knight; Henceforth we banish thee on pain of death. [_Exit Fastolf._] And now, my Lord Protector, view the letter Sent from our uncle, Duke of Burgundy. GLOUCESTER. What means his Grace, that he hath changed his style? No more but, plain and bluntly, “To the King”! Hath he forgot he is his sovereign? Or doth this churlish superscription Pretend some alteration in good will? What’s here? [_Reads_] “I have, upon especial cause, Moved with compassion of my country’s wrack, Together with the pitiful complaints Of such as your oppression feeds upon, Forsaken your pernicious faction And join’d with Charles, the rightful King of France.” O monstrous treachery! Can this be so, That in alliance, amity, and oaths, There should be found such false dissembling guile? KING HENRY. What! Doth my uncle Burgundy revolt? GLOUCESTER. He doth, my lord, and is become your foe. KING HENRY. Is that the worst this letter doth contain? GLOUCESTER. It is the worst, and all, my lord, he writes. KING HENRY. Why, then, Lord Talbot there shall talk with him And give him chastisement for this abuse. How say you, my lord, are you not content? TALBOT. Content, my liege! Yes, but that I am prevented, I should have begg’d I might have been employ’d. KING HENRY. Then gather strength and march unto him straight; Let him perceive how ill we brook his treason, And what offence it is to flout his friends. TALBOT. I go, my lord, in heart desiring still You may behold confusion of your foes. [_Exit._] Enter Vernon and Basset. VERNON. Grant me the combat, gracious sovereign. BASSET. And me, my lord, grant me the combat too. YORK. This is my servant; hear him, noble prince. SOMERSET. And this is mine, sweet Henry, favour him. KING HENRY. Be patient, lords, and give them leave to speak. Say, gentlemen, what makes you thus exclaim, And wherefore crave you combat, or with whom? VERNON. With him, my lord, for he hath done me wrong. BASSET. And I with him, for he hath done me wrong. KING HENRY. What is that wrong whereof you both complain? First let me know, and then I’ll answer you. BASSET. Crossing the sea from England into France, This fellow here, with envious carping tongue, Upbraided me about the rose I wear, Saying the sanguine colour of the leaves Did represent my master’s blushing cheeks When stubbornly he did repugn the truth About a certain question in the law Argued betwixt the Duke of York and him; With other vile and ignominious terms. In confutation of which rude reproach, And in defence of my lord’s worthiness, I crave the benefit of law of arms. VERNON. And that is my petition, noble lord; For though he seem with forged quaint conceit To set a gloss upon his bold intent, Yet know, my lord, I was provoked by him, And he first took exceptions at this badge, Pronouncing that the paleness of this flower Bewray’d the faintness of my master’s heart. YORK. Will not this malice, Somerset, be left? SOMERSET. Your private grudge, my Lord of York, will out, Though ne’er so cunningly you smother it. KING HENRY. Good Lord, what madness rules in brainsick men, When for so slight and frivolous a cause Such factious emulations shall arise! Good cousins both, of York and Somerset, Quiet yourselves, I pray, and be at peace. YORK. Let this dissension first be tried by fight, And then your Highness shall command a peace. SOMERSET. The quarrel toucheth none but us alone; Betwixt ourselves let us decide it then. YORK. There is my pledge; accept it, Somerset. VERNON. Nay, let it rest where it began at first. BASSET. Confirm it so, mine honourable lord. GLOUCESTER. Confirm it so! Confounded be your strife! And perish ye, with your audacious prate! Presumptuous vassals, are you not ashamed With this immodest clamorous outrage To trouble and disturb the King and us? And you, my lords, methinks you do not well To bear with their perverse objections, Much less to take occasion from their mouths To raise a mutiny betwixt yourselves. Let me persuade you take a better course. EXETER. It grieves his Highness. Good my lords, be friends. KING HENRY. Come hither, you that would be combatants: Henceforth I charge you, as you love our favour, Quite to forget this quarrel and the cause. And you, my lords, remember where we are: In France, amongst a fickle wavering nation; If they perceive dissension in our looks, And that within ourselves we disagree, How will their grudging stomachs be provoked To willful disobedience, and rebel! Beside, what infamy will there arise When foreign princes shall be certified That for a toy, a thing of no regard, King Henry’s peers and chief nobility Destroy’d themselves and lost the realm of France! O, think upon the conquest of my father, My tender years, and let us not forgo That for a trifle that was bought with blood! Let me be umpire in this doubtful strife. I see no reason if I wear this rose, [_Putting on a red rose._] That anyone should therefore be suspicious I more incline to Somerset than York. Both are my kinsmen, and I love them both. As well they may upbraid me with my crown Because, forsooth, the King of Scots is crown’d. But your discretions better can persuade Than I am able to instruct or teach; And therefore, as we hither came in peace, So let us still continue peace and love. Cousin of York, we institute your Grace To be our Regent in these parts of France; And, good my Lord of Somerset, unite Your troops of horsemen with his bands of foot; And like true subjects, sons of your progenitors, Go cheerfully together and digest Your angry choler on your enemies. Ourself, my Lord Protector, and the rest After some respite will return to Calais; From thence to England, where I hope ere long To be presented, by your victories, With Charles, Alençon, and that traitorous rout. [_Flourish. Exeunt all but York, Warwick, Exeter and Vernon._] WARWICK. My Lord of York, I promise you the King Prettily, methought, did play the orator. YORK. And so he did; but yet I like it not, In that he wears the badge of Somerset. WARWICK. Tush, that was but his fancy; blame him not; I dare presume, sweet prince, he thought no harm. YORK. An if I wist he did—but let it rest; Other affairs must now be managed. [_Exeunt all but Exeter._]