University of Virginia Library

Actus Tertius.

Scena Prima.

Flourish. Enter King, Exeter, Gloster, Winchester, Warwick, Somerset, Suffolk, Richard Plantagenet. Gloster offers to put vp a Bill: Winchester snatches 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 cōmands my patiēce,
Or thou should'st finde thou hast dis-honor'd me.
Thinke not, although in Writing I preferr'd
The manner of thy vile outragious Crymes,
That therefore I haue forg'd, or am not able
Verbatim 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 beseemes
A 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 exempt
From enuious mallice of thy swelling heart.

Winch.
Gloster, I doe defie thee. Lords vouchsafe
To 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 aduance
Or rayse my selfe? but keepe my wonted Calling.
And for Dissention, who preferreth Peace
More 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 man
Iust, 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 Nayles
Shall 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, behold
My 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 repulse
To 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 Priest
Should euer get that priuiledge of me.

Warw.
Behold my Lord of Winchester, the Duke
Hath 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 thee
Loue 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 occasions
At 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 loue
Amongst 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.

Exit.

Scœna 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.

Exit.
An Alarum: Excursions. Bedford brought in sicke in a Chayre.
Enter Talbot and Burgonie without: within, Pucell, Charles, Bastard, and Reigneir 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 that time.

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 you
That 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.

Burg.
My Vowes are equall partners with thy Vowes.

Talb.
But ere we goe, regard this dying Prince,
The valiant Duke of Bedford: Come my Lord,
We will bestow you in some better place,
Fitter for sicknesse, and for crasie age.

Bedf.
Lord Talbot, doe not so dishonour me:
Here will I sit before the Walls of Roan,
And will be partner of your weale or woe.

Burg.
Couragious Bedford, let vs now perswade you.

Bedf.
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.
Me thinkes I should reuiue the Souldiors hearts,
Because I euer found them as my selfe.

Talb.
Vndaunted spirit in a dying breast,
Then be it so: Heauens keepe old Bedford safe.
And now no more adoe, braue Burgonie,
But gather we our Forces out of hand,
And set vpon our boasting Enemie.

Exit.
An Alarum: Excursions. Enter Sir Iohn Falstaffe, and a Captaine.
Capt.
Whither away Sir Iohn Falstaffe, in such haste?

Falst.
Whither away? to saue my selfe by flight,
We are like to haue the ouerthrow againe.

Capt.
What? will you flye, and leaue Lord Talbot?

Falst.
I, all the Talbots in the World, to saue my life.

Exit.
Capt.
Cowardly Knight, ill fortune follow thee.

Exit.
Retreat. Excursions. Pucell, Alanson, and Charles flye.
Bedf.
Now quiet Soule, depart when Heauen please,
For I haue seene our Enemies ouerthrow.
What is the trust or strength of foolish man?
They that of late were daring with their scoffes,
Are glad and faine by slight to saue themselues.

Bedford dyes, and is carryed in by two in his Chaire.
An Alarum. Enter Talbot, Burgonie, and the rest.
Talb.
Lost, and recouered in a day againe,
This is a double Honor, Burgonie:
Yet Heauens haue glory for this Victorie.

Burg.
Warlike and Martiall Talbot, Burgonie
Inshrines thee in his heart, and there erects
Thy noble Deeds, as Valors Monuments.

Talb.
Thanks gentle Duke: but where is Pucel now?
I thinke her old Familiar is asleepe.
Now where's the Bastards braues, and Charles his glikes?
What all amort? Roan hangs her head for griefe,
That such a valiant Company are fled.
Now will we take some order in the Towne,
Placing therein some expert Officers,
And then depart to Paris, to the King,
For there young Henry with his Nobles lye.

Burg.
What wills Lord Talbot, pleaseth Burgonie.

Talb.
But yet before we goe, let's not forget
The Noble Duke of Bedford, late deceas'd,
But see his Exequies fulfill'd in Roan.
A brauer Souldier neuer couched Launce,
A gentler Heart did neuer sway in Court.
But Kings and mightiest Potentates must die,
For that's the end of humane miserie.

Exeunt.

Scæna Tertia.

Enter Charles, Bastard, Alanson, Pucell.
Pucell.
Dismay not (Princes) at this accident,
Nor grieue that Roan is so recouered:
Care is no cure, but rather corrosiue,
For things that are not to be remedy'd.
Let frantike Talbot triumph for a while,
And like a Peacock sweepe along his tayle,
Wee'le pull his Plumes, and take away his Trayne,
If Dolphin and the rest will be but rul'd.

Charles.
We haue been guided by thee hitherto,
And of thy Cunning had no diffidence,
One sudden Foyle shall neuer breed distrust.

Bastard.
Search out thy wit for secret pollicies,
And we will make thee famous through the World.

Alans.
Wee'le set thy Statue in some holy place,
And haue thee reuerenc't like a blessed Saint.
Employ thee then, sweet Virgin, for our good.

Pucell.
Then thus it must be, this doth Ioane deuise:
By faire perswasions, mixt with sugred words,
We will entice the Duke of Burgonie
To leaue the Talbot, and to follow vs.

Charles.
I marry Sweeting, if we could doe that,
France were no place for Henryes Warriors,
Nor should that Nation boast it so with vs,
But be extirped from our Prouinces.

Alans.
For euer should they be expuls'd from France,
And not haue Title of an Earledome here.

Pucell.
Your Honors shall perceiue how I will worke,
To bring this matter to the wished end.
Drumme sounds a farre off.
Hearke, by the sound of Drumme you may perceiue
Their Powers are marching vnto Paris-ward.
Here sound an English March.
There goes the Talbot, with his Colours spred,
And all the Troupes of English after him.
French March.
Now in the Rereward comes the Duke and his:
Fortune in fauor makes him lagge behinde.
Summon a Parley, we will talke with him.

Trumpets sound a Parley.
Charles.
A Parley with the Duke of Burgonie.

Burg.
Who craues a Parley with the Burgonie?

Pucell.
The Princely Charles of France, thy Countreyman.

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

Charles.
Speake Pucell, and enchaunt him with thy words.

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

Burg.
Speake on, but be not ouer-tedious.

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

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

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

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

Pucell.
Done like a Frenchman: turne and turne againe.

Charles.
Welcome braue Duke, thy friendship makes vs fresh.

Bastard.
And doth beget new Courage in our Breasts.

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

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

Exeunt.

Scœna Quarta.

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

King.
Is this the Lord Talbot, Vnckle Gloucester,
That hath so long beene resident in France?

Glost.
Yes, if it please your Maiestie, my Liege.

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

Senet. Flourish. Exeunt.
Manet Vernon and Basset.
Vern.
Now Sir, to you that were so hot at Sea,
Disgracing of these Colours that I weare,
In honor of my Noble Lord of Yorke
Dar'st thou maintaine the former words thou spak'st?

Bass.
Yes Sir, as well as you dare patronage
The enuious barking of your sawcie Tongue,
Against my Lord the Duke of Somerset.

Uern.
Sirrha, thy Lord I honour as he is.

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

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

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

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

Exeunt.