Dolph. Bastard of Orleance, thrice welcome to vs
Bast. Me thinks your looks are sad, your chear appal'd.Hath the late ouerthrow 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 Heauen,Ordayned is to rayse this tedious Siege,And driue the English forth the bounds of France:The spirit of deepe Prophecie she hath,Exceeding the nine Sibyls of old Rome:What's past, and what's to come, she can descry.Speake, shall I call her in? beleeue my words,For they are certaine, and vnfallible
Dolph. Goe call her in: but first, to try her skill,Reignier stand thou as Dolphin in my place;Question her prowdly, let thy Lookes be sterne,By this meanes shall we sound what skill she hath.Enter Ioane Puzel.
Reigneir. Faire Maid, is't thou wilt doe these wondrousfeats?Puzel. Reignier, is't thou that thinkest to beguile me?Where is the Dolphin? Come, come from behinde,I know thee well, though neuer seene before.Be not amaz'd, there's nothing hid from me;In priuate will I talke with thee apart:Stand back you Lords, and giue vs leaue a while
Reigneir. She takes vpon her brauely at first dash
Puzel. Dolphin, I am by birth a Shepheards Daughter,My wit vntrayn'd in any kind of Art:Heauen and our Lady gracious hath it pleas'dTo shine on my contemptible estate.Loe, whilest I wayted on my tender Lambes,And to Sunnes parching heat display'd my cheekes,Gods Mother deigned to appeare to me,And in a Vision full of Maiestie,Will'd me to leaue my base Vocation,And free my Countrey from Calamitie:Her ayde she promis'd, and assur'd successe.In compleat Glory shee reueal'd her selfe:And whereas I was black and swart before,With those cleare Rayes, which shee infus'd on me,That beautie am I blest with, which you may see.Aske me what question thou canst possible,And I will answer vnpremeditated:My Courage trie by Combat, if thou dar'st,And thou shalt finde that I exceed my Sex.Resolue on this, thou shalt be fortunate,If thou receiue me for thy Warlike Mate
Dolph. Thou hast astonisht me with thy high termes:Onely this proofe Ile 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
Puzel. I am prepar'd: here is my keene-edg'd Sword,Deckt with fine Flower-de-Luces on each side,The which at Touraine, in S[aint]. Katherines Church-yard,Out of a great deale of old Iron, I chose forth
Dolph. Then come a Gods name, I feare no woman
Puzel. And while I liue, Ile ne're flye from a man.
Here they fight, and Ioane de Puzel ouercomes.
Dolph. Stay, stay thy hands, thou art an Amazon,And fightest with the Sword of Debora
Puzel. Christs Mother helpes me, else I were tooweake
Dolph. Who e're helps thee, 'tis thou that must help me:Impatiently I burne with thy desire,My heart and hands thou hast at once subdu'd.Excellent Puzel, if thy name be so,Let me thy seruant, and not Soueraigne be,'Tis the French Dolphin sueth to thee thus
Puzel. I must not yeeld to any rights of Loue,For my Profession's sacred from aboue:When I haue chased all thy Foes from hence,Then will I thinke vpon a recompence
Dolph. Meane time looke gracious on thy prostrateThrall
Reigneir. My Lord me thinkes is very long in talke
Alans. Doubtlesse he shriues this woman to her smock,Else ne're could he so long protract his speech
Reigneir. Shall wee disturbe him, since hee keepes nomeane?Alan. He may meane more then we poor men do know,These women are shrewd tempters with their tongues
Reigneir. My Lord, where are you? what deuise you on?Shall we giue o're Orleance, or no?Puzel. Why no, I say: distrustfull Recreants,Fight till the last gaspe: Ile be your guard
Dolph. What shee sayes, Ile confirme: wee'le fightit out
Puzel. Assign'd am I to be the English Scourge.This night the Siege assuredly Ile rayse:Expect Saint Martins Summer, Halcyons dayes,Since I haue entred into these Warres.Glory is like a Circle in the Water,Which neuer ceaseth to enlarge it selfe,Till by broad spreading, it disperse to naught.With Henries death, the English Circle ends,Dispersed are the glories it included:Now am I like that prowd insulting Ship,Which Cęsar and his fortune bare at once
Dolph. Was Mahomet inspired with a Doue?Thou with an Eagle art inspired then.Helen, the Mother of Great Constantine,Nor yet S[aint]. Philips daughters were like thee.Bright Starre of Venus, falne downe on the Earth,How may I reuerently worship thee enough?Alanson. Leaue off delayes, and let vs rayse theSiege
Reigneir. Woman, do what thou canst to saue our honors,Driue them from Orleance, and be immortaliz'd
Dolph. Presently wee'le try: come, let's away about it,No Prophet will I trust, if shee proue false.
Exeunt.
Enter Gloster, with his Seruing-men.
Glost. I am come to suruey the Tower this day;Since Henries death, I feare there is Conueyance:Where be these Warders, that they wait not here?Open the Gates, 'tis Gloster that calls
1.Warder. Who's there, that knocks so imperiously?Glost.1.Man. It is the Noble Duke of Gloster
2.Warder. Who ere he be, you may not be let in
1.Man. Villaines, answer you so the Lord Protector?1.Warder. The Lord protect him, so we answer him,We doe no otherwise then wee are will'd
Glost. Who willed you? or whose will stands but mine?There's none Protector of the Realme, but I:Breake vp the Gates, Ile be your warrantize;Shall I be flowted thus by dunghill Groomes?
Glosters men rush at the Tower Gates, and Wooduile the Lieutenant speakes within.
Wooduile. What noyse is this? what Traytors hauewee here?Glost. Lieutenant, is it you whose voyce I heare?Open the Gates, here's Gloster that would enter
Wooduile. Haue patience Noble Duke, I may not open,The Cardinall of Winchester forbids:From him I haue expresse commandement,That thou nor none of thine shall be let in
Glost. Faint-hearted Wooduile, prizest him 'fore me?Arrogant Winchester, that haughtie Prelate,Whom Henry our late Soueraigne ne're could brooke?Thou art no friend to God, or to the King:Open the Gates, or Ile shut thee out shortly
Seruingmen. Open the Gates vnto the Lord Protector,Or wee'le burst them open, if that you come not quickly.Enter to the Protector at the Tower Gates, Winchester and his meninTawney Coates.
Winchest. How now ambitious Vmpheir, what meanesthis?Glost. Piel'd Priest, doo'st thou command me to beshut out?Winch. I doe, thou most vsurping Proditor,And not Protector of the King or Realme
Glost. Stand back thou manifest Conspirator,Thou that contriued'st to murther our dead Lord,Thou that giu'st Whores Indulgences to sinne,Ile canuas thee in thy broad Cardinalls Hat,If thou proceed in this thy insolence
Winch. Nay, stand thou back, I will not budge a foot:This be Damascus, be thou cursed Cain,To slay thy Brother Abel, if thou wilt
Glost. I will not slay thee, but Ile driue thee back:Thy Scarlet Robes, as a Childs bearing Cloth,Ile vse, to carry thee out of this place
Winch. Doe what thou dar'st, I beard thee to thyface
Glost. What? am I dar'd, and bearded to my face?Draw men, for all this priuiledged place,Blew Coats to Tawny Coats. Priest, beware your Beard,I meane to tugge it, and to cuffe you soundly.Vnder my feet I stampe thy Cardinalls Hat:In spight of Pope, or dignities of Church,Here by the Cheekes Ile drag thee vp and downe
Winch. Gloster, thou wilt answere this before thePope
Glost. Winchester Goose, I cry, a Rope, a Rope.Now beat them hence, why doe you let them stay?Thee Ile chase hence, thou Wolfe in Sheepes array.Out Tawney-Coates, out Scarlet Hypocrite.
Here Glosters men beat out the Cardinalls men, and enter in the hurly-burly the Maior of London, and his Officers.
Maior. Fye Lords, that you being supreme Magistrates,Thus contumeliously should breake the Peace
Glost. Peace Maior, thou know'st little of my wrongs:Here's Beauford, that regards nor God nor King,Hath here distrayn'd the Tower to his vse
Winch. Here's Gloster, a Foe to Citizens,One that still motions Warre, and neuer Peace,O're-charging your free Purses with large Fines;That seekes to ouerthrow Religion,Because he is Protector of the Realme;And would haue Armour here out of the Tower,To Crowne himselfe King, and suppresse the Prince
Glost. I will not answer thee with words, but blowes.
Here they skirmish againe.
Maior. Naught rests for me, in this tumultuous strife, But to make open Proclamation. Come Officer, as lowd as e're thou canst, cry: All manner of men, assembled here in Armes this day, against Gods Peace and the Kings, wee charge and command you, in his Highnesse Name, to repayre to your seuerall dwelling places, and not to weare, handle, or vse any Sword, Weapon, or Dagger hence-forward, vpon paine of death
Glost. Cardinall, Ile be no breaker of the Law:But we shall meet, and breake our minds at large
Winch. Gloster, wee'le meet to thy cost, be sure:Thy heart-blood I will haue for this dayes worke
Maior. Ile call for Clubs, if you will not away:This Cardinall's more haughtie then the Deuill
Glost. Maior farewell: thou doo'st but what thoumay'st
Winch. Abhominable Gloster, guard thy Head,For I intend to haue it ere long.
Exeunt.
Maior. See the Coast clear'd, and then we will depart.Good God, these Nobles should such stomacks beare,I my selfe fight not once in fortie yeere.
Exeunt.
Enter the Master Gunner of Orleance, and his Boy.
M.Gunner. Sirrha, thou know'st how Orleance is besieg'd,And how the English haue the Suburbs wonne
Boy. Father I know, and oft haue shot at them,How e're vnfortunate, I miss'd my ayme
M.Gunner. But now thou shalt not. Be thou rul'd by me:Chiefe Master Gunner am I of this Towne,Something I must doe to procure me grace:The Princes espyals haue informed me,How the English, in the Suburbs close entrencht,Went through a secret Grate of Iron Barres,In yonder Tower, to ouer-peere the Citie,And thence discouer, how with most aduantageThey may vex vs with Shot or with Assault.To intercept this inconuenience,A Peece of Ordnance 'gainst it I haue plac'd,And euen these three dayes haue I watcht,If I could see them. Now doe thou watch,For I can stay no longer.If thou spy'st any, runne and bring me word,And thou shalt finde me at the Gouernors.Enter.
Boy. Father, I warrant you, take you no care,Ile neuer trouble you, if I may spye them.Enter.
Enter Salisbury and Talbot on the Turrets, with others.
Salisb. Talbot, my life, my ioy, againe return'd?How wert thou handled, being Prisoner?Or by what meanes got's thou to be releas'd?Discourse I prethee on this Turrets top
Talbot. The Earle of Bedford had a Prisoner,Call'd the braue Lord Ponton de Santrayle,For him was I exchang'd, and ransom'd.But with a baser man of Armes by farre,Once in contempt they would haue barter'd me:Which I disdaining, scorn'd, and craued death,Rather then I would be so pil'd esteem'd:In fine, redeem'd I was as I desir'd.But O, the trecherous Falstaffe wounds my heart,Whom with my bare fists I would execute,If I now had him brought into my power
Salisb. Yet tell'st thou not, how thou wert entertain'd
Tal. With scoffes and scornes, and contumelious taunts,In open Market-place produc't they me,To be a publique spectacle to all:Here, sayd they, is the Terror of the French,The Scar-Crow that affrights our Children so.Then broke I from the Officers that led me,And with my nayles digg'd stones out of the ground,To hurle at the beholders of my shame.My grisly countenance made others flye,None durst come neere, for feare of suddaine death.In Iron Walls they deem'd me not secure:So great feare of my Name 'mongst them were spread,That they suppos'd I could rend Barres of Steele,And spurne in pieces Posts of Adamant.Wherefore a guard of chosen Shot I had,That walkt about me euery Minute while:And if I did but stirre out of my Bed,Ready they were to shoot me to the heart.Enter the Boy with a Linstock.
Salisb. I grieue to heare what torments you endur'd,But we will be reueng'd sufficiently.Now it is Supper time in Orleance:Here, through this Grate, I count each one,And view the Frenchmen how they fortifie:Let vs looke in, the sight will much delight thee:Sir Thomas Gargraue, and Sir William Glansdale,Let me haue your expresse opinions,Where is best place to make our Batt'ry next?Gargraue. I thinke at the North Gate, for there standsLords
Glansdale. And I heere, at the Bulwarke of theBridge
Talb. For ought I see, this Citie must be famisht,Or with light Skirmishes enfeebled.
Here they shot, and Salisbury falls downe.
Salisb. O Lord haue mercy on vs, wretched sinners
Gargraue. O Lord haue mercy on me, wofull man
Talb. What chance is this, that suddenly hath crost vs?Speake Salisbury; at least, if thou canst, speake:How far'st thou, Mirror of all Martiall men?One of thy Eyes, and thy Cheekes side struck off?Accursed Tower, accursed fatall Hand,That hath contriu'd this wofull Tragedie.In thirteene Battailes, Salisbury o'recame:Henry the Fift he first trayn'd to the Warres.Whil'st any Trumpe did sound, or Drum struck vp,His Sword did ne're leaue striking in the field.Yet liu'st thou Salisbury? though thy speech doth fayle,One Eye thou hast to looke to Heauen for grace.The Sunne with one Eye vieweth all the World.Heauen be thou gracious to none aliue,If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hands.Beare hence his Body, I will helpe to bury it.Sir Thomas Gargraue, hast thou any life?Speake vnto Talbot, nay, looke vp to him.Salisbury cheare thy Spirit with this comfort,Thou shalt not dye whiles-He beckens with his hand, and smiles on me:As who should say, When I am dead and gone,Remember to auenge me on the French.Plantaginet I will, and like thee,Play on the Lute, beholding the Townes burne:Wretched shall France be onely in my Name.
Here an Alarum, and it Thunders and Lightens.
What stirre is this? what tumult's in the Heauens?Whence commeth this Alarum, and the noyse?Enter a Messenger.
Mess. My Lord, my Lord, the French haue gather'd head.The Dolphin, with one Ioane de Puzel ioyn'd,A holy Prophetesse, new risen vp,Is come with a great Power, to rayse the Siege.
Here Salisbury lifteth himselfe vp, and groanes.
Talb. Heare, heare, how dying Salisbury doth groane,It irkes his heart he cannot be reueng'd.Frenchmen, Ile be a Salisbury to you.Puzel or Pussel, Dolphin or Dog-fish,Your hearts Ile stampe out with my Horses heeles,And make a Quagmire of your mingled braines.Conuey me Salisbury into his Tent,And then wee'le try what these dastard Frenchmen dare.
Alarum. Exeunt.
Here an Alarum againe, and Talbot pursueth the Dolphin, anddriueth him:Then enter Ioane de Puzel, driuing Englishmen before her. ThenenterTalbot.
Talb. Where is my strength, my valour, and my force?Our English Troupes retyre, I cannot stay them,A Woman clad in Armour chaseth them.Enter Puzel.
Here, here shee comes. Ile haue a bowt with thee:Deuill, or Deuils Dam, Ile coniure thee:Blood will I draw on thee, thou art a Witch,And straightway giue thy Soule to him thou seru'st
Puzel. Come, come, 'tis onely I that must disgracethee.
Here they fight.
Talb. Heauens, can you suffer Hell so to preuayle?My brest Ile burst with straining of my courage,And from my shoulders crack my Armes asunder,But I will chastise this high-minded Strumpet.
They fight againe.
Puzel. Talbot farwell, thy houre is not yet come,I must goe Victuall Orleance forthwith:
A short Alarum: then enter the Towne with Souldiers.
O're-take me if thou canst, I scorne thy strength.Goe, goe, cheare vp thy hungry-starued men,Helpe Salisbury to make his Testament,This Day is ours, as many more shall be.Enter.
Talb. My thoughts are whirled like a Potters Wheele,I know not where I am, nor what I doe:A Witch by feare, not force, like Hannibal,Driues back our troupes, and conquers as she lists:So Bees with smoake, and Doues with noysome stench,Are from their Hyues and Houses driuen away.They call'd vs, for our fiercenesse, English Dogges,Now like to Whelpes, we crying runne away.
A short Alarum.
Hearke Countreymen, eyther renew the fight,Or teare the Lyons out of Englands Coat;Renounce your Soyle, giue Sheepe in Lyons stead:Sheepe run not halfe so trecherous from the Wolfe,Or Horse or Oxen from the Leopard,As you flye from your oft-subdued slaues.
Alarum. Here another Skirmish.
It will not be, retyre into your Trenches:You all consented vnto Salisburies death,For none would strike a stroake in his reuenge.Puzel is entred into Orleance,In spight of vs, or ought that we could doe.O would I were to dye with Salisbury,The shame hereof, will make me hide my head.
Exit Talbot.
Alarum, Retreat, Flourish.
Enter on the Walls, Puzel, Dolphin, Reigneir, Alanson, andSouldiers.
Puzel. Aduance our wauing Colours on the Walls,Rescu'd is Orleance from the English.Thus Ioane de Puzel hath perform'd her word
Dolph. Diuinest Creature, Astrea's Daughter,How shall I honour thee for this successe?Thy promises are like Adonis Garden,That one day bloom'd, and fruitfull were the next.France, triumph in thy glorious Prophetesse,Recouer'd is the Towne of Orleance,More blessed hap did ne're befall our State
Reigneir. Why ring not out the Bells alowd,Throughout the Towne?Dolphin command the Citizens make Bonfires,And feast and banquet in the open streets,To celebrate the ioy that God hath giuen vs
Alans. All France will be repleat with mirth and ioy,When they shall heare how we haue play'd the men
Dolph. 'Tis Ioane, not we, by whom the day is wonne:For which, I will diuide my Crowne with her,And all the Priests and Fryers in my Realme,Shall in procession sing her endlesse prayse.A statelyer Pyramis to her Ile reare,Then Rhodophe's or Memphis euer was.In memorie of her, when she is dead,Her Ashes, in an Vrne more preciousThen the rich-iewel'd Coffer of Darius,Transported, shall be at high FestiualsBefore the Kings and Queenes of France.No longer on Saint Dennis will we cry,But Ioane de Puzel shall be France's Saint.Come in, and let vs Banquet Royally,After this Golden Day of Victorie.
Flourish. Exeunt.
Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
Enter a Sergeant of a Band, with two Sentinels.
Ser. Sirs, take your places, and be vigilant:If any noyse or Souldier you perceiueNeere to the walles, by some apparant signeLet vs haue knowledge at the Court of Guard
Sent. Sergeant you shall. Thus are poore Seruitors(When others sleepe vpon their quiet beds)Constrain'd to watch in darknesse, raine, and cold.Enter Talbot, Bedford, and Burgundy, with scaling Ladders: TheirDrummesbeating a Dead March.
Tal. Lord Regent, and redoubted Burgundy,By whose approach, the Regions of Artoys,Wallon, and Picardy, are friends to vs:This happy night, the Frenchmen are secure,Hauing all day carows'd and banquetted,Embrace we then this opportunitie,As fitting best to quittance their deceite,Contriu'd by Art, and balefull Sorcerie
Bed. Coward of France, how much he wrongs his fame,Dispairing of his owne armes fortitude,To ioyne with Witches, and the helpe of Hell
Bur. Traitors haue neuer other company.But what's that Puzell whom they tearme so pure?Tal. A Maid, they say
Bed. A Maid? And be so martiall?Bur. Pray God she proue not masculine ere long:If vnderneath the Standard of the FrenchShe carry Armour, as she hath begun
Tal. Well, let them practise and conuerse with spirits.God is our Fortresse, in whose conquering nameLet vs resolue to scale their flinty bulwarkes
Bed. Ascend braue Talbot, we will follow thee
Tal. Not altogether: Better farre I guesse,That we do make our entrance seuerall wayes:That if it chance the one of vs do faile,The other yet may rise against their force
Bed. Agreed; Ile to yond corner
Bur. And I to this
Tal. And heere will Talbot mount, or make his graue.Now Salisbury, for thee and for the rightOf English Henry, shall this night appeareHow much in duty, I am bound to both
Sent. Arme, arme, the enemy doth make assault.
Cry, S[aint]. George, A Talbot.
The French leape ore the walles in their shirts. Enter seuerallwayes,Bastard, Alanson, Reignier, halfe ready, and halfe vnready.
Alan. How now my Lords? what all vnreadie so?Bast. Vnready? I and glad we scap'd so well
Reig. 'Twas time (I trow) to wake and leaue our beds,Hearing Alarums at our Chamber doores
Alan. Of all exploits since first I follow'd Armes,Nere heard I of a warlike enterprizeMore venturous, or desperate then this
Bast. I thinke this Talbot be a Fiend of Hell
Reig. If not of Hell, the Heauens sure fauour him
Alans. Here commeth Charles, I maruell how he sped?Enter Charles and Ioane.
Bast. Tut, holy Ioane was his defensiue Guard
Charl. Is this thy cunning, thou deceitfull Dame?Didst thou at first, to flatter vs withall,Make vs partakers of a little gayne,That now our losse might be ten times so much?Ioane. Wherefore is Charles impatient with his friend?At all times will you haue my Power alike?Sleeping or waking, must I still preuayle,Or will you blame and lay the fault on me?Improuident Souldiors, had your Watch been good,This sudden Mischiefe neuer could haue falne
Charl. Duke of Alanson, this was your default,That being Captaine of the Watch to Night,Did looke no better to that weightie Charge
Alans. Had all your Quarters been as safely kept,As that whereof I had the gouernment,We had not beene thus shamefully surpriz'd
Bast. Mine was secure
Reig. And so was mine, my Lord
Charl. And for my selfe, most part of all this NightWithin her Quarter, and mine owne Precinct,I was imploy'd in passing to and fro,About relieuing of the Centinels.Then how, or which way, should they first breake in?Ioane. Question (my Lords) no further of the case,How or which way; 'tis sure they found some place,But weakely guarded, where the breach was made:And now there rests no other shift but this,To gather our Souldiors, scatter'd and disperc't,And lay new Platformes to endammage them.
Exeunt.
Alarum. Enter a Souldier, crying, a Talbot, a Talbot: they flye, leauing their Clothes behind.
Sould. Ile be so bold to take what they haue left:The Cry of Talbot serues me for a Sword,For I haue loaden me with many Spoyles,Vsing no other Weapon but his Name.Enter.
Enter Talbot, Bedford, Burgundie.
Bedf. The Day begins to breake, and Night is fled,Whose pitchy Mantle ouer-vayl'd the Earth.Here sound Retreat, and cease our hot pursuit.
Retreat.
Talb. Bring forth the Body of old Salisbury,And here aduance it in the Market-Place,The middle Centure of this cursed Towne.Now haue I pay'd my Vow vnto his Soule:For euery drop of blood was drawne from him,There hath at least fiue Frenchmen dyed to night.And that hereafter Ages may beholdWhat ruine happened in reuenge of him,Within their chiefest Temple Ile erectA Tombe, wherein his Corps shall be interr'd:Vpon the which, that euery one may reade,Shall be engrau'd the sacke of Orleance,The trecherous manner of his mournefull death,And what a terror he had beene to France.But Lords, in all our bloudy Massacre,I muse we met not with the Dolphins Grace,His new-come Champion, vertuous Ioane of Acre,Nor any of his false Confederates
Bedf. 'Tis thought Lord Talbot, when the fight began,Rows'd on the sudden from their drowsie Beds,They did amongst the troupes of armed men,Leape o're the Walls for refuge in the field
Burg. My selfe, as farre as I could well discerne,For smoake, and duskie vapours of the night,Am sure I scar'd the Dolphin and his Trull,When Arme in Arme they both came swiftly running,Like to a payre of louing Turtle-Doues,That could not liue asunder day or night.After that things are set in order here,Wee'le follow them with all the power we haue.Enter a Messenger.
Mess. All hayle, my Lords: which of this Princely trayneCall ye the Warlike Talbot, for his ActsSo much applauded through the Realme of France?Talb. Here is the Talbot, who would speak with him?Mess. The vertuous Lady, Countesse of Ouergne,With modestie admiring thy Renowne,By me entreats (great Lord) thou would'st vouchsafeTo visit her poore Castle where she lyes,That she may boast she hath beheld the man,Whose glory fills the World with lowd report
Burg. Is it euen so? Nay, then I see our WarresWill turne vnto a peacefull Comick sport,When Ladyes craue to be encountred with.You may not (my Lord) despise her gentle suit
Talb. Ne're trust me then: for when a World of menCould not preuayle with all their Oratorie,Yet hath a Womans kindnesse ouer-rul'd:And therefore tell her, I returne great thankes,And in submission will attend on her.Will not your Honors beare me company?Bedf. No, truly, 'tis more then manners will:And I haue heard it sayd, Vnbidden GuestsAre often welcommest when they are gone
Talb. Well then, alone (since there's no remedie)I meane to proue this Ladyes courtesie.Come hither Captaine, you perceiue my minde.
Whispers.
Capt. I doe my Lord, and meane accordingly.
Exeunt.
Enter Countesse.
Count. Porter, remember what I gaue in charge,And when you haue done so, bring the Keyes to me
Port. Madame, I will.Enter.
Count. The Plot is layd, if all things fall out right,I shall as famous be by this exploit,As Scythian Tomyris by Cyrus death.Great is the rumour of this dreadfull Knight,And his atchieuements of no lesse account:Faine would mine eyes be witnesse with mine eares,To giue their censure of these rare reports.Enter Messenger and Talbot.
Mess. Madame, according as your Ladyship desir'd,By Message crau'd, so is Lord Talbot come
Count. And he is welcome: what? is this the man?Mess. Madame, it is
Count. Is this the Scourge of France?Is this the Talbot, so much fear'd abroad?That with his Name the Mothers still their Babes?I see Report is fabulous and false.I thought I should haue seene some Hercules,A second Hector, for his grim aspect,And large proportion of his strong knit Limbes.Alas, this is a Child, a silly Dwarfe:It cannot be, this weake and writhled shrimpeShould strike such terror to his Enemies
Talb. Madame, I haue beene bold to trouble you:But since your Ladyship is not at leysure,Ile sort some other time to visit you
Count. What meanes he now?Goe aske him, whither he goes?Mess. Stay my Lord Talbot, for my Lady craues,To know the cause of your abrupt departure?Talb. Marry, for that shee's in a wrong beleefe,I goe to certifie her Talbot's here.Enter Porter with Keyes.
Count. If thou be he, then art thou Prisoner
Talb. Prisoner? to whom?Count. To me, blood-thirstie Lord:And for that cause I trayn'd thee to my House.Long time thy shadow hath been thrall to me,For in my Gallery thy Picture hangs:But now the substance shall endure the like,And I will chayne these Legges and Armes of thine,That hast by Tyrannie these many yeeresWasted our Countrey, slaine our Citizens,And sent our Sonnes and Husbands captiuate
Talb. Ha, ha, ha
Count. Laughest thou Wretch?Thy mirth shall turne to moane
Talb. I laugh to see your Ladyship so fond,To thinke, that you haue ought but Talbots shadow,Whereon to practise your seueritie
Count. Why? art not thou the man?Talb. I am indeede
Count. Then haue I substance too
Talb. No, no, I am but shadow of my selfe:You are deceiu'd, my substance is not here;For what you see, is but the smallest part,And least proportion of Humanitie:I tell you Madame, were the whole Frame here,It is of such a spacious loftie pitch,Your Roofe were not sufficient to contayn't
Count. This is a Riddling Merchant for the nonce,He will be here, and yet he is not here:How can these contrarieties agree?Talb. That will I shew you presently.
Winds his Horne, Drummes strike vp, a Peale of Ordenance: EnterSouldiors.
How say you Madame? are you now perswaded,That Talbot is but shadow of himselfe?These are his substance, sinewes, armes, and strength,With which he yoaketh your rebellious Neckes,Razeth your Cities, and subuerts your Townes,And in a moment makes them desolate
Count. Victorious Talbot, pardon my abuse,I finde thou art no lesse then Fame hath bruited,And more then may be gathered by thy shape.Let my presumption not prouoke thy wrath,For I am sorry, that with reuerenceI did not entertaine thee as thou art
Talb. Be not dismay'd, faire Lady, nor misconsterThe minde of Talbot, as you did mistakeThe outward composition of his body.What you haue done, hath not offended me:Nor other satisfaction doe I craue,But onely with your patience, that we mayTaste of your Wine, and see what Cates you haue,For Souldiers stomacks alwayes serue them well
Count. With all my heart, and thinke me honored,To feast so great a Warrior in my House.
Exeunt.
Enter Richard Plantagenet, Warwick, Somerset, Poole, and others.
Yorke. Great Lords and Gentlemen,What meanes this silence?Dare no man answer in a Case of Truth?Suff. Within the Temple Hall we were too lowd,The Garden here is more conuenient
York. Then say at once, if I maintain'd the Truth:Or else was wrangling Somerset in th' error?Suff. Faith I haue beene a Truant in the Law,And neuer yet could frame my will to it,And therefore frame the Law vnto my will
Som. Iudge you, my Lord of Warwicke, then betweenevs
War. Between two Hawks, which flyes the higher pitch,Between two Dogs, which hath the deeper mouth,Between two Blades, which beares the better temper,Between two Horses, which doth beare him best,Between two Girles, which hath the merryest eye,I haue perhaps some shallow spirit of Iudgement:But in these nice sharpe Quillets of the Law,Good faith I am no wiser then a Daw
York. Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbearance:The truth appeares so naked on my side,That any purblind eye may find it out
Som. And on my side it is so well apparrell'd,So cleare, so shining, and so euident,That it will glimmer through a blind-mans eye
York. Since you are tongue-ty'd, and so loth to speake,In dumbe significants proclayme your thoughts:Let him that is a true-borne Gentleman,And stands vpon the honor of his birth,If he suppose that I haue pleaded truth,From off this Bryer pluck a white Rose with me
Som. Let him that is no Coward, nor no Flatterer,But dare maintaine the partie of the truth,Pluck a red Rose from off this Thorne with me
War. I loue no Colours: and without all colourOf base insinuating flatterie,I pluck this white Rose with Plantagenet
Suff. I pluck this red Rose, with young Somerset,And say withall, I thinke he held the right
Vernon. Stay Lords and Gentlemen, and pluck no moreTill you conclude, that he vpon whose sideThe fewest Roses are cropt from the Tree,Shall yeeld the other in the right opinion
Som. Good Master Vernon, it is well obiected:If I haue fewest, I subscribe in silence
York. And I
Vernon. Then for the truth, and plainnesse of the Case,I pluck this pale and Maiden Blossome here,Giuing my Verdict on the white Rose side
Som. Prick not your finger as you pluck it off,Least bleeding, you doe paint the white Rose red,And fall on my side so against your will
Vernon. If I, my Lord, for my opinion bleed,Opinion shall be Surgeon to my hurt,And keepe me on the side where still I am
Som. Well, well, come on, who else?Lawyer. Vnlesse my Studie and my Bookes be false,The argument you held, was wrong in you;In signe whereof, I pluck a white Rose too
Yorke. Now Somerset, where is your argument?Som. Here in my Scabbard, meditating, thatShall dye your white Rose in a bloody red
York. Meane time your cheeks do counterfeit our Roses:For pale they looke with feare, as witnessingThe truth on our side
Som. No Plantagenet:Tis not for feare, but anger, that thy cheekesBlush for pure shame, to counterfeit our Roses,And yet thy tongue will not confesse thy error
Yorke. Hath not thy Rose a Canker, Somerset?Som. Hath not thy Rose a Thorne, Plantagenet?Yorke. I, sharpe and piercing to maintaine his truth,Whiles thy consuming Canker eates his falsehood
Som. Well, Ile find friends to weare my bleeding Roses,That shall maintaine what I haue said is true,Where false Plantagenet dare not be seene
Yorke. Now by this Maiden Blossome in my hand,I scorne thee and thy fashion, peeuish Boy
Suff. Turne not thy scornes this way, Plantagenet
Yorke. Prowd Poole, I will, and scorne both him and thee
Suff. Ile turne my part thereof into thy throat
Som. Away, away, good William de la Poole,We grace the Yeoman, by conuersing with him
Warw. Now by Gods will thou wrong'st him, Somerset:His Grandfather was Lyonel Duke of Clarence,Third Sonne to the third Edward King of England:Spring Crestlesse Yeomen from so deepe a Root?Yorke. He beares him on the place's Priuiledge,Or durst not for his crauen heart say thus
Som. By him that made me, Ile maintaine my wordsOn any Plot of Ground in Christendome.Was not thy Father, Richard, Earle of Cambridge,For Treason executed in our late Kings dayes?And by his Treason, stand'st not thou attainted,Corrupted, and exempt from ancient Gentry?His Trespas yet liues guiltie in thy blood,And till thou be restor'd, thou art a Yeoman
Yorke. My Father was attached, not attainted,Condemn'd to dye for Treason, but no Traytor;And that Ile proue on better men then Somerset,Were growing time once ripened to my will.For your partaker Poole, and you your selfe,Ile note you in my Booke of Memorie,To scourge you for this apprehension:Looke to it well, and say you are well warn'd
Som. Ah, thou shalt finde vs ready for thee still:And know vs by these Colours for thy Foes,For these, my friends in spight of thee shall weare
Yorke. And by my Soule, this pale and angry Rose,As Cognizance of my blood-drinking hate,Will I for euer, and my Faction weare,Vntill it wither with me to my Graue,Or flourish to the height of my Degree
Suff. Goe forward, and be choak'd with thy ambition:And so farwell, vntill I meet thee next.Enter.
Som. Haue with thee Poole: Farwell ambitious Richard.Enter.
Yorke. How I am brau'd, and must perforce endureit?Warw. This blot that they obiect against your House,Shall be whipt out in the next Parliament,Call'd for the Truce of Winchester and Gloucester:And if thou be not then created Yorke,I will not liue to be accounted Warwicke.Meane time, in signall of my loue to thee,Against prowd Somerset, and William Poole,Will I vpon thy partie weare this Rose.And here I prophecie: this brawle to day,Growne to this faction in the Temple Garden,Shall send betweene the Red-Rose and the White,A thousand Soules to Death and deadly Night
Yorke. Good Master Vernon, I am bound to you,That you on my behalfe would pluck a Flower
Ver. In your behalfe still will I weare the same
Lawyer. And so will I
Yorke. Thankes gentle.Come, let vs foure to Dinner: I dare say,This Quarrell will drinke Blood another day.
Exeunt.
Enter Mortimer, brought in a Chayre, and Iaylors.
Mort. Kind Keepers of my weake decaying Age,Let dying Mortimer here rest himselfe.Euen like a man new haled from the Wrack,So fare my Limbes with long Imprisonment:And these gray Locks, the Pursuiuants of death,Nestor-like aged, in an Age of Care,Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer.These Eyes like Lampes, whose wasting Oyle is spent,Waxe dimme, as drawing to their Exigent.Weake Shoulders, ouer-borne with burthening Griefe,And pyth-lesse Armes, like to a withered Vine,That droupes his sappe-lesse Branches to the ground.Yet are these Feet, whose strength-lesse stay is numme,(Vnable to support this Lumpe of Clay)Swift-winged with desire to get a Graue,As witting I no other comfort haue.But tell me, Keeper, will my Nephew come?Keeper. Richard Plantagenet, my Lord, will come:We sent vnto the Temple, vnto his Chamber,And answer was return'd, that he will come
Mort. Enough: my Soule shall then be satisfied.Poore Gentleman, his wrong doth equall mine.Since Henry Monmouth first began to reigne,Before whose Glory I was great in Armes,This loathsome sequestration haue I had;And euen since then, hath Richard beene obscur'd,Depriu'd of Honor and Inheritance.But now, the Arbitrator of Despaires,Iust Death, kinde Vmpire of mens miseries,With sweet enlargement doth dismisse me hence:I would his troubles likewise were expir'd,That so he might recouer what was lost.Enter Richard.
Keeper. My Lord, your louing Nephew now is come
Mor. Richard Plantagenet, my friend, is he come?Rich. I, Noble Vnckle, thus ignobly vs'd,Your Nephew, late despised Richard, comes
Mort. Direct mine Armes, I may embrace his Neck,And in his Bosome spend my latter gaspe.Oh tell me when my Lippes doe touch his Cheekes,That I may kindly giue one fainting Kisse.And now declare sweet Stem from Yorkes great Stock,Why didst thou say of late thou wert despis'd?Rich. First, leane thine aged Back against mine Arme,And in that ease, Ile tell thee my Disease.This day in argument vpon a Case,Some words there grew 'twixt Somerset and me:Among which tearmes, he vs'd his lauish tongue,And did vpbrayd me with my Fathers death;Which obloquie set barres before my tongue,Else with the like I had requited him.Therefore good Vnckle, for my Fathers sake,In honor of a true Plantagenet,And for Alliance sake, declare the causeMy Father, Earle of Cambridge, lost his Head
Mort. That cause (faire Nephew) that imprison'd me,And hath detayn'd me all my flowring Youth,Within a loathsome Dungeon, there to pyne,Was cursed Instrument of his decease
Rich. Discouer more at large what cause that was,For I am ignorant, and cannot guesse
Mort. I will, if that my fading breath permit,And Death approach not, ere my Tale be done.Henry the Fourth, Grandfather to this King,Depos'd his Nephew Richard, Edwards Sonne,The first begotten, and the lawfull HeireOf Edward King, the Third of that Descent.During whose Reigne, the Percies of the North,Finding his Vsurpation most vniust,Endeuour'd my aduancement to the Throne.The reason mou'd these Warlike Lords to this,Was, for that (young Richard thus remou'd,Leauing no Heire begotten of his Body)I was the next by Birth and Parentage:For by my Mother, I deriued amFrom Lionel Duke of Clarence, third SonneTo King Edward the Third; whereas hee,From Iohn of Gaunt doth bring his Pedigree,Being but fourth of that Heroick Lyne.But marke: as in this haughtie great attempt,They laboured, to plant the rightfull Heire,I lost my Libertie, and they their Liues.Long after this, when Henry the Fift(Succeeding his Father Bullingbrooke) did reigne;Thy Father, Earle of Cambridge, then deriu'dFrom famous Edmund Langley, Duke of Yorke,Marrying my Sister, that thy Mother was;Againe, in pitty of my hard distresse,Leuied an Army, weening to redeeme,And haue install'd me in the Diademe:But as the rest, so fell that Noble Earle,And was beheaded. Thus the Mortimers,In whom the Title rested, were supprest
Rich. Of which, my Lord, your Honor is the last
Mort. True; and thou seest, that I no Issue haue,And that my fainting words doe warrant death:Thou art my Heire; the rest, I wish thee gather:But yet be wary in thy studious care
Rich. Thy graue admonishments preuayle with me:But yet me thinkes, my Fathers executionWas nothing lesse then bloody Tyranny
Mort. With silence, Nephew, be thou pollitick,Strong fixed is the House of Lancaster,And like a Mountaine, not to be remou'd.But now thy Vnckle is remouing hence,As Princes doe their Courts, when they are cloy'dWith long continuance in a setled place
Rich. O Vnckle, would some part of my young yeeresMight but redeeme the passage of your Age
Mort. Thou do'st then wrong me, as y slaughterer doth,Which giueth many Wounds, when one will kill.Mourne not, except thou sorrow for my good,Onely giue order for my Funerall.And so farewell, and faire be all thy hopes,And prosperous be thy Life in Peace and Warre.
Dyes.
Rich. And Peace, no Warre, befall thy parting Soule.In Prison hast thou spent a Pilgrimage,And like a Hermite ouer-past thy dayes.Well, I will locke his Councell in my Brest,And what I doe imagine, let that rest.Keepers conuey him hence, and I my selfeWill see his Buryall better then his Life.Enter.
Here dyes the duskie Torch of Mortimer,Choakt with Ambition of the meaner sort.And for those Wrongs, those bitter Iniuries,Which Somerset hath offer'd to my House,I doubt not, but with Honor to redresse.And therefore haste I to the Parliament,Eyther to be restored to my Blood,Or make my will th' aduantage of my good.Enter.
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Flourish. Enter King, Exeter, Gloster, Winchester, Warwick.Somerset,Suffolk, Richard Plantagenet. Gloster offers to put vp a Bill:Winchestersnatches it, teares it.
Winch. Com'st thou with deepe premeditated Lines?With written Pamphlets, studiously deuis'd?Humfrey of Gloster, if thou canst accuse,Or ought intend'st to lay vnto my charge,Doe it without inuention, suddenly,As I with sudden, and extemporall speech,Purpose to answer what thou canst obiect
Glo. Presumptuous Priest, this place co[m]mands my patie[n]ce,Or thou should'st finde thou hast dis-honor'd me.Thinke not, although in Writing I preferr'dThe manner of thy vile outragious Crymes,That therefore I haue forg'd, or am not ableVerbatim to rehearse the Methode of my Penne.No Prelate, such is thy audacious wickednesse,Thy lewd, pestiferous, and dissentious prancks,As very Infants prattle of thy pride.Thou art a most pernitious Vsurer,Froward by nature, Enemie to Peace,Lasciuious, wanton, more then well beseemesA man of thy Profession, and Degree.And for thy Trecherie, what's more manifest?In that thou layd'st a Trap to take my Life,As well at London Bridge, as at the Tower.Beside, I feare me, if thy thoughts were sifted,The King, thy Soueraigne, is not quite exemptFrom enuious mallice of thy swelling heart
Winch. Gloster, I doe defie thee. Lords vouchsafeTo giue me hearing what I shall reply.If I were couetous, ambitious, or peruerse,As he will haue me: how am I so poore?Or how haps it, I seeke not to aduanceOr rayse my selfe? but keepe my wonted Calling.And for Dissention, who preferreth PeaceMore then I doe? except I be prouok'd.No, my good Lords, it is not that offends,It is not that, that hath incens'd the Duke:It is because no one should sway but hee,No one, but hee, should be about the King;And that engenders Thunder in his breast,And makes him rore these Accusations forth.But he shall know I am as good
Glost. As good?Thou Bastard of my Grandfather
Winch. I, Lordly Sir: for what are you, I pray,But one imperious in anothers Throne?Glost. Am I not Protector, sawcie Priest?Winch. And am not I a Prelate of the Church?Glost. Yes, as an Out-law in a Castle keepes,And vseth it, to patronage his Theft
Winch. Vnreuerent Glocester
Glost. Thou art reuerent,Touching thy Spirituall Function, not thy Life
Winch. Rome shall remedie this
Warw. Roame thither then.My Lord, it were your dutie to forbeare
Som. I, see the Bishop be not ouer-borne:Me thinkes my Lord should be Religious,And know the Office that belongs to such
Warw. Me thinkes his Lordship should be humbler,It fitteth not a Prelate so to plead
Som. Yes, when his holy State is toucht so neere
Warw. State holy, or vnhallow'd, what of that?Is not his Grace Protector to the King?Rich. Plantagenet I see must hold his tongue,Least it be said, Speake Sirrha when you should:Must your bold Verdict enter talke with Lords?Else would I haue a fling at Winchester
King. Vnckles of Gloster, and of Winchester,The speciall Watch-men of our English Weale,I would preuayle, if Prayers might preuayle,To ioyne your hearts in loue and amitie.Oh, what a Scandall is it to our Crowne,That two such Noble Peeres as ye should iarre?Beleeue me, Lords, my tender yeeres can tell,Ciuill dissention is a viperous Worme,That gnawes the Bowels of the Common-wealth.
A noyse within, Downe with the Tawny-Coats.
King. What tumult's this?Warw. An Vprore, I dare warrant,Begun through malice of the Bishops men.
A noyse againe, Stones, Stones.
Enter Maior.
Maior. Oh my good Lords, and vertuous Henry,Pitty the Citie of London, pitty vs:The Bishop, and the Duke of Glosters men,Forbidden late to carry any Weapon,Haue fill'd their Pockets full of peeble stones;And banding themselues in contrary parts,Doe pelt so fast at one anothers Pate,That many haue their giddy braynes knockt out:Our Windowes are broke downe in euery Street,And we, for feare, compell'd to shut our Shops.Enter in skirmish with bloody Pates.
King. We charge you, on allegeance to our selfe,To hold your slaughtring hands, and keepe the Peace:Pray' Vnckle Gloster mittigate this strife
1.Seruing. Nay, if we be forbidden Stones, wee'le fall to it with our Teeth
2.Seruing. Doe what ye dare, we are as resolute.
Skirmish againe.
Glost. You of my household, leaue this peeuish broyle,And set this vnaccustom'd fight aside
3.Seru. My Lord, we know your Grace to be a manIust, and vpright; and for your Royall Birth,Inferior to none, but to his Maiestie:And ere that we will suffer such a Prince,So kinde a Father of the Common-weale,To be disgraced by an Inke-horne Mate,Wee and our Wiues and Children all will fight,And haue our bodyes slaughtred by thy foes
1.Seru. I, and the very parings of our NaylesShall pitch a Field when we are dead.
Begin againe.
Glost. Stay, stay, I say:And if you loue me, as you say you doe,Let me perswade you to forbeare a while
King. Oh, how this discord doth afflict my Soule.Can you, my Lord of Winchester, beholdMy sighes and teares, and will not once relent?Who should be pittifull, if you be not?Or who should study to preferre a Peace,If holy Church-men take delight in broyles?Warw. Yeeld my Lord Protector, yeeld Winchester,Except you meane with obstinate repulseTo slay your Soueraigne, and destroy the Realme.You see what Mischiefe, and what Murther too,Hath beene enacted through your enmitie:Then be at peace, except ye thirst for blood
Winch. He shall submit, or I will neuer yeeld
Glost. Compassion on the King commands me stoupe,Or I would see his heart out, ere the PriestShould euer get that priuiledge of me
Warw. Behold my Lord of Winchester, the DukeHath banisht moodie discontented fury,As by his smoothed Browes it doth appeare:Why looke you still so sterne, and tragicall?Glost. Here Winchester, I offer thee my Hand
King. Fie Vnckle Beauford, I haue heard you preach,That Mallice was a great and grieuous sinne:And will not you maintaine the thing you teach?But proue a chiefe offendor in the same
Warw. Sweet King: the Bishop hath a kindly gyrd:For shame my Lord of Winchester relent;What, shall a Child instruct you what to doe?Winch. Well, Duke of Gloster, I will yeeld to theeLoue for thy Loue, and Hand for Hand I giue
Glost. I, but I feare me with a hollow Heart.See here my Friends and louing Countreymen,This token serueth for a Flagge of Truce,Betwixt our selues, and all our followers:So helpe me God, as I dissemble not
Winch. So helpe me God, as I intend it not
King. Oh louing Vnckle, kinde Duke of Gloster,How ioyfull am I made by this Contract.Away my Masters, trouble vs no more,But ioyne in friendship, as your Lords haue done
1.Seru. Content, Ile to the Surgeons
2.Seru. And so will I
3.Seru. And I will see what Physick the Tauerne affords.
Exeunt.
Warw. Accept this Scrowle, most gracious Soueraigne,Which in the Right of Richard Plantagenet,We doe exhibite to your Maiestie
Glo. Well vrg'd, my Lord of Warwick: for sweet Prince,And if your Grace marke euery circumstance,You haue great reason to doe Richard right,Especially for those occasionsAt Eltam Place I told your Maiestie
King. And those occasions, Vnckle, were of force:Therefore my louing Lords, our pleasure is,That Richard be restored to his Blood
Warw. Let Richard be restored to his Blood,So shall his Fathers wrongs be recompenc't
Winch. As will the rest, so willeth Winchester
King. If Richard will be true, not that all alone,But all the whole Inheritance I giue,That doth belong vnto the House of Yorke,From whence you spring, by Lineall Descent
Rich. Thy humble seruant vowes obedience,And humble seruice, till the point of death
King. Stoope then, and set your Knee against my Foot,And in reguerdon of that dutie done,I gyrt thee with the valiant Sword of Yorke:Rise Richard, like a true Plantagenet,And rise created Princely Duke of Yorke
Rich. And so thriue Richard, as thy foes may fall,And as my dutie springs, so perish they,That grudge one thought against your Maiesty
All. Welcome high Prince, the mighty Duke of Yorke
Som. Perish base Prince, ignoble Duke of Yorke
Glost. Now will it best auaile your Maiestie,To crosse the Seas, and to be Crown'd in France:The presence of a King engenders loueAmongst his Subiects, and his loyall Friends,As it dis-animates his Enemies
King. When Gloster sayes the word, King Henry goes,For friendly counsaile cuts off many Foes
Glost. Your Ships alreadie are in readinesse.
Senet. Flourish. Exeunt.
Manet Exeter.
Exet. I, we may march in England, or in France,Not seeing what is likely to ensue:This late dissention growne betwixt the Peeres,Burnes vnder fained ashes of forg'd loue,And will at last breake out into a flame,As festred members rot but by degree,Till bones and flesh and sinewes fall away,So will this base and enuious discord breed.And now I feare that fatall Prophecie,Which in the time of Henry, nam'd the Fift,Was in the mouth of euery sucking Babe,That Henry borne at Monmouth should winne all,And Henry borne at Windsor, loose all:Which is so plaine, that Exeter doth wish,His dayes may finish, ere that haplesse time.Enter.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Pucell disguis'd, with foure Souldiors with Sacks vpon their backs.
Pucell. These are the Citie Gates, the Gates of Roan,Through which our Pollicy must make a breach.Take heed, be wary how you place your words,Talke like the vulgar sort of Market men,That come to gather Money for their Corne.If we haue entrance, as I hope we shall,And that we finde the slouthfull Watch but weake,Ile by a signe giue notice to our friends,That Charles the Dolphin may encounter them
Souldier. Our Sacks shall be a meane to sack the City,And we be Lords and Rulers ouer Roan,Therefore wee'le knock.
Knock.
Watch. Che la
Pucell. Peasauns la pouure gens de Fraunce,Poore Market folkes that come to sell their Corne
Watch. Enter, goe in, the Market Bell is rung
Pucell. Now Roan, Ile shake thy Bulwarkes to the ground.
Exeunt.
Enter Charles, Bastard, Alanson.
Charles. Saint Dennis blesse this happy Stratageme,And once againe wee'le sleepe secure in Roan
Bastard. Here entred Pucell, and her Practisants:Now she is there, how will she specifie?Here is the best and safest passage in
Reig. By thrusting out a Torch from yonder Tower,Which once discern'd, shewes that her meaning is,No way to that (for weaknesse) which she entred.Enter Pucell on the top, thrusting out a Torch burning.
Pucell. Behold, this is the happy Wedding Torch,That ioyneth Roan vnto her Countreymen,But burning fatall to the Talbonites
Bastard. See Noble Charles the Beacon of our friend,The burning Torch in yonder Turret stands
Charles. Now shine it like a Commet of Reuenge,A Prophet to the fall of all our Foes
Reig. Deferre no time, delayes haue dangerous ends,Enter and cry, the Dolphin, presently,And then doe execution on the Watch.
Alarum.
An Alarum. Talbot in an Excursion.
Talb. France, thou shalt rue this Treason with thy teares,If Talbot but suruiue thy Trecherie.Pucell that Witch, that damned Sorceresse,Hath wrought this Hellish Mischiefe vnawares,That hardly we escap't the Pride of France.Enter.
An Alarum: Excursions. Bedford brought in sicke in a Chayre.
Enter Talbot and Burgonie without: within, Pucell, Charles,Bastard, andReigneir on the Walls.
Pucell. God morrow Gallants, want ye Corn for Bread?I thinke the Duke of Burgonie will fast,Before hee'le buy againe at such a rate.'Twas full of Darnell: doe you like the taste?Burg. Scoffe on vile Fiend, and shamelesse Curtizan,I trust ere long to choake thee with thine owne,And make thee curse the Haruest of that Corne
Charles. Your Grace may starue (perhaps) before thattime
Bedf. Oh let no words, but deedes, reuenge this Treason
Pucell. What will you doe, good gray-beard?Breake a Launce, and runne a-Tilt at Death,Within a Chayre
Talb. Foule Fiend of France, and Hag of all despight,Incompass'd with thy lustfull Paramours,Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant Age,And twit with Cowardise a man halfe dead?Damsell, Ile haue a bowt with you againe,Or else let Talbot perish with this shame
Pucell. Are ye so hot, Sir: yet Pucell hold thy peace,If Talbot doe but Thunder, Raine will follow.
They whisper together in counsell.
God speed the Parliament: who shall be the Speaker?Talb. Dare yee come forth, and meet vs in the field?Pucell. Belike your Lordship takes vs then for fooles,To try if that our owne be ours, or no
Talb. I speake not to that rayling Hecate,But vnto thee Alanson, and the rest.Will ye, like Souldiors, come and fight it out?Alans. Seignior no
Talb. Seignior hang: base Muleters of France,Like Pesant foot-Boyes doe they keepe the Walls,And dare not take vp Armes, like Gentlemen
Pucell. Away Captaines, let's get vs from the Walls,For Talbot meanes no goodnesse by his Lookes.God b'uy my Lord, we came but to tell youThat wee are here.
Exeunt. from the Walls.
Talb. And there will we be too, ere it be long,Or else reproach be Talbots greatest fame.Vow Burgonie, by honor of thy House,Prickt on by publike Wrongs sustain'd in France,Either to get the Towne againe, or dye.And I, as sure as English Henry liues,And as his Father here was Conqueror;As sure as in this late betrayed Towne,Great Cordelions Heart was buryed;So sure I sweare, to get the Towne, or dye