 | The History of Henry the Fifth |  |
THE SECOND ACT.
Enter the King, Duke of Exeter, Duke of Bedford, Earl of Warwick, and Tudor.King.
My Lord of Warwick, you may give to all
The French of note the rites of Funeral;
It is a debt which to the dead we pay,
Rewarding Courage ev'n in those we slay.
Warwick.
It shall be done.
King.
Brother it will be fit
The Pris'ners you to stronger Guards commit;
They shall a Court within our Army see;
And in it nothing want but liberty.
Bed.
They shall be safe, yet have some freedom too.
King.
Uncle, the great request I make to you,
Is to preserve our wounded men with care;
'Tis by their courage we victorious are.
Exeter.
They shall be serv'd with all they can desire;
We must that valour serve which you admire.
Exeunt Exeter, Bedford, Warwick.
Tudor.
Though this great day, th'expecting world may see
Your Title both to France and Victory;
And though no Conquerour alive, or dead,
With nobler wreaths did ever crown his head;
Yet pardon me if I presume to say,
I see a sadness mis-becomes this day;
This day, in which your friends and foes confess,
Nothing can make you greater, nothing less;
So fixt are Fortunes Wheels they cannot turn,
Then, Sir, permit only the French to mourn;
The loss of York and Suffolk, though too great,
Should not out-weigh your Enemies defeat:
12
You would not Conquests make, but miracles;
Who in his Princes service finds a Grave,
Rather our envy than our grief should have,
And fighting in your sight, who for you dyes,
Is blest enough without such Obsequies:
If to their death such envy'd grief you give,
You'l make us then repent that we do live:
Sir, for the living's sake your grief decline,
And let your looks clear as your glories shine.
King.
So great a loss as is above relief,
Even on this day might justifie my grief:
He who of friendship knows the sacred ties,
Will value more his Friends than Victories;
But that just sorrow, which thou wouldst remove,
Is not a tribute paid to Death but Love;
If Fame, or Power, only in me did sway,
I could not have been seen in Clouds to day;
'Tis Love's fierce Fire which does my heart devour;
Less to be quench'd than heats of Fame or Power.
Tudor.
She must do more than Woman e're could do,
Resisting such a King and Conqu'rour too;
You, though her eyes should brightest beams emit,
May safe in shades under your Laurels sit.
King.
My Laurels might a safe refreshment prove
To any other heat but that of Love;
Their sacred force 'gainst Thunder only lies,
Not against lightning shot from conqu'ring eyes;
Whose pow'r, like that of lightning, I have felt;
My breast they wound not, yet my heart they melt.
Tudor.
May I not know who does my King subdue?
King.
Saying I love, I need not tell thee who:
VVho of the Planets speaks of brightest beams,
Need not say after, 'tis the Sun he means.
Tudor.
The Sun by all is mention'd at one rate,
But Fancy alters beauties estimate;
Were it not Fancy which that value gave,
All Lovers then would but one Mistress have.
King.
Such adoration Fancy cannot raise,
As to this beauty sight and reason pays;
For he whose heart Love can to ashes turn,
Must feel her eyes alone have right to burn:
But that this ignorance thou may'st decline,
Know I adore the Princess Katherine:
Loves Rebels by her eyes are kept in awe,
She reigns in France spight of the Salique Law.
Tudor.
Will not Loves heat make Glories flame expire?
King.
No, Tudor, it will rather raise it higher;
13
Who makes not glory first his Advocate.
This was the cause when Charls, her father, sent
Embassadours, my conquest to prevent;
And this bright beauty offer'd for my Bride,
But with her, as her Dowry, France deny'd;
I shun'd the match, knowing her beauties were
No price for Peace, but the reward of War;
My vows and passion she might justly scorn,
Did I not Crown her Queen where she was born;
And raise her boundless beauties to supply
What a rude Law does to her Sex deny.
Tudor.
Perhaps your flame had with more lustre shone,
Had you for it declin'd the Gallick Throne:
For love of her to quit in France your right
Is more then 'tis to conquer it in fight;
Nor can you hope her passions flame to raise
When with her Countries blood you stain your Bays.
King.
Dear Tudor, I perceive because thou art
A Subject thou mistak'st a Monarchs heart.
Those, who from Royal veins derive their blood,
Find only in a Throne what's great and good;
Sure Nature in her would much rather see
Her Son then Brother rule this Monarchy.
Tudor.
A Love like this was never known before,
The Father you'l depose, the Child adore.
Your Love will be in proofs of hatred shown;
You on her Countries ruines build her Throne;
This strange design, Sir, does my wonder raise.
King.
A Love like mine moves not in common waies:
Such unexampl'd things I'le strive to do,
That when I reach to what I now pursue,
When men name one who lov'd to a degree
Ne're known before, they'l say he lov'd like me.
Prepare thy self to go within an hour
To the French Court as my Embassadour;
And let them know if they resign up France,
(Mine both by Conquest and Inheritance)
They shun such force as cannot be withstood,
They shew their justice, and they spare their blood.
Success now asks but what I ask'd before.
Tudor.
He that at first ask'd all can ask no more.
Much is not in the proffer I shall make.
King.
Yes, it is much to ask what I can take,
And to accept from them that Crown which I
Have giv'n me from the hand of Victory.
Tudor, in this they cannot but confess,
I make my mercy hinder my success.
14
It might be then convenient that I try'd
T'obtain with France the Princess for your Bride:
Since you as well for her as France contend,
Without her you'l not reach your noblest end.
King.
She justly, Tudor, might my passion hate
If Love's high int'rest I should mix with state.
If I this great concern by Treaty move
'Twill be below her Beauty and my Love.
That blessing must in nobler ways be sought:
Though Heav'n may be bestow'd, 'tis never bought.
But that which chiefly makes me send thee now
Is that my Friend should let my Princess know
My flames are such as Martyr'd Saints sustain;
The glory of them takes away the pain.
[Exeunt.
Tudor.
Was ever such a Curse impos'd by Fate?
His favour wounds much deeper then his hate.
I must unworthy or else wretched prove,
Be false to Honour or else false to Love:
To which of both shall I precedence give?
I'm kill'd by this, by that unfit to live;
But stay! why should not I, even I alone,
Raise Love and Honour to a height unknown?
If, for his sake, my passion I forego,
In that great Act I pay him all I owe:
Who for his King against his Love does act
Pays Debts much greater then he can contract.
Nor are these all th'advantages will flow
From that great action I intend to do.
If I her right above my Love prefer
In that, by losing, I shall merit her.
And to obtain, not merit her, will prove
Less then to lose her and deserve her Love.
'Tis worthy of my flame, and of her eyes,
To make love be to love a sacrifice.
[Exeunt.
Enter Queen, Duke of Burgundy, the Constable, Earl of Charaloys, and Count de Chastel.
Queen.
The fatal cause why we assemble now
We by the worst of sad experience know.
Heav'n does, at once, on this our Empire showre
All the fierce marks of anger and of power.
The King, my Lord, whose head, and heart, and hand,
Should be imploy'd our ruine to withstand,
Under his old disease still worser grows;
Yields to his pain as France does to his Foes:
Yet is he not unhappy in that state
Which makes him not to feel the wounds of Fate.
15
In such a storm at Empires helm to sit,
Yet for that great and dang'rous place does press;
And, missing it, forsakes us in distress.
As these two miseries assault us here,
So th'English late success fills all with fear.
Yet, France, surviving such destructive blows,
Ev'n in her ruine still her greatness shows.
By your wise help she hopes yet to be freed;
And on your breasts she leans her weary head.
Shall we again by Battel try our Fate,
Or with the English King Capitulate?
Const.
Our shoulders but attend for heavier weight,
If in the Field we shun to try our Fate.
For doubtless, Madam, he less Vertue shows
Who yields to, than who falls by fortunes blows.
Rome, though she lost four Fields to Hannibal,
Her valour rais'd ev'n in her Fortunes fall.
Her steady vertue did all storms suppress,
And made her Empress of the Universe:
I would not doubt but we at length should find
A Roman Fate, had we a Roman mind.
De Chast.
Those who too hastily with Victors treat,
Make them too proud who were before too great.
Such condiscention would to fear dispose
Your Subjects hearts, and elevate your Foes.
Let not Posterity have cause to say,
That you lost France, and lost her in one day.
Const.
The chance of Arms are still alternative;
Fortune one day does take, next day does give:
And all the English fame will be o'rethrown
If we of twenty Fields can win but one.
All thoughts of Treaties, Madam, then despise,
Which but excuses fear whilst we seem wise.
Burg.
Madam, what the great Constable does say
Becomes that place you rais'd him to this day:
He, who the head of all your Armies is,
Safe Counsels should obey but not advise.
If to my judgment you will please to trust,
Chuse not what great appears, but what is just.
Madam, it is alone by Arms you reign
O're Anjou, Normandy, and Aquitane.
Those three, the noblest Provinces of France,
Are th'English King's confest Inheritance.
What-ever of prescription Gown-men write,
Yet length of time changes not wrong to right:
Why should you not, er'e things are desp'rate grown,
By giving what is his, preserve your own?
16
A Gangreen; the corrupt will eat the sound.
Ear. of Char.
Justice is more then but an empty word:
Therefore, whilst that assists the English Sword,
Success will alwaies to their side resort;
And every Field will be an Agin-Court.
Burg.
Can Councils prosp'rous be or Armies strong,
Both aiming to perpetuate a wrong?
If after this fair offer he pursue
The War, our Swords will act what his does now.
If he accepts it (as no doubt he must)
You will be safe as soon as you are just.
Pursue the Acts of Justice; those alone
Have pow'r to save and to exalt a Throne.
Enter Blamount.
Blam.
Young Tudor is arriv'd, and craves to be
With speed admitted to your Majesty.
By those few words which have between us past
I find his message does require some haste.
Queen.
Know you what 'tis which does him hither bring?
Blam.
Some overtures of peace from th'English King.
Blamount whispers in the Queens Ear.
Queen.
Yes, I consent; and give her notice I
Expect she should receive him civilly.
[Exit Blamount.
My Lords, I find your judgments various are;
Two are for Treaty, th'other two for War.
Such reasons you for both opinions give,
That I, with reason, either may receive.
But Tudor being come does surely bring
Something important from the English King.
'Tis fit our resolutions we defer
Till I his bus'ness in his message hear.
[Exeunt.
Enter Princess Katherine, and Blamount.
Blam.
Madam, what I have said the Queen will own.
Prin. Kath.
What? That with Tudor I should speak alone?
Blam.
He for that honour, Madam, now does stay.
Prin. Kath.
Since by the Queen commanded, I obey.
[Exit Blamount.
Enter Tudor.
Tudor.
Though, Madam, this high honour does excel
What deeds can merit, or what words can tell,
It shall no cause of new presumption be;
I'le not repeat what you condemn'd in me.
I then presum'd to tell you of a Fire
Your Eyes did ina Subjects heart inspire;
17
Is that your beauties have subdu'd a King;
A King renown'd by all the voice of Fame;
The least he has of Monarch is the name.
He only Love and Glory does pursue;
Which makes him Conquer France and yield to you.
And by th'unhappi'st of his Subjects says,
He at your feet his Heart and Laurel lays.
Judge what his Vertues are, and what my Fate,
Which makes his Rival turn his Advocate.
Prin. Kath.
Tudor what first you spoke made me not fear
That Rival was a word I e're should hear.
For you in that repeat the past offence,
Which made me lately banish you from hence.
If, by his worth, your King claims my esteem,
Why grieve you that you plead to gain it him?
Tudor.
Ah, Madam, may I not your pardon crave
For grieving when I part from all I have?
A Father, when he sees his only Son
Condemn'd to death for what he could not shun
(Though to the right of justice he submit)
May well be pardon'd if he mourns for it.
By double Dictates, Madam, I am led;
My loss makes me lament, my justice plead.
But all my sorrows soon will lose their name
If you raise him for whom I ruin'd am.
A Prince who only does, as his just due,
Deserve to love you, and be lov'd by you.
Prin. Kath.
Has yet the Queen ought of this business known?
Tudor.
I had but leave to wait on you alone.
Those common paths of Kings mine will not tread,
To see by Picture and by proxy wed.
He'l make his Court at an unusual rate;
His is a love of liking, not of state.
And says, he does not for a Mistress sue
To France, but humbly begs your self of you.
Prin. Kath.
I but by Picture did to him appear.
Tudor.
Yes, he has seen you in my Character.
'Tis far above the labour'd art of man
To draw a Mistress as a Lover can.
Your Picture took his sight; but you will find
My words alone did Captivate his mind.
Though you may think the pencils pow'r is great;
It aims to paint a fire, but not a heat;
Much less a heat which does from Love arise,
And which is kindled by his Mistress eyes.
The Pencil to my words resign'd the place;
Those drew your Soul, that painted but your face.
18
With greater lustre then your beauty shin'd;
That from the Charms of your discourse and shape
Men could no more then from your eyes escape.
And I may justly, Madam, be afraid
He saw, in me, you acted all I said;
And to revenge that which you call'd a crime
I on this Embassy am sent by him.
Prin. Kath.
Tudor, into a new relapse you fall;
You seem'd to mourn at your loves Funeral:
And I on that assurance pardon'd you.
Tudor.
I told you what was then, not what is now.
If other words have wander'd in my talk,
The Ghost then of my murder'd love did walk:
And like a Ghost to none it shall appear,
But before you, who are the Murtherer.
Prin. Kath.
If you'l to my esteem your self restore,
Let me, by it, be visited no more.
Tudor.
Madam, I'le strive t'obey you from this hour.
But, since the dead have o're their Ghosts no power,
If mine again the trespass should commit,
My last request is that you'l pardon it;
And to so sad a love some sorrow give,
Which troubles you when dead, as when alive.
But for my King I must my suit renew;
And beg to know what I must say from you.
If to accept his passion you incline,
You'l make his happiness your own and mine.
Since you deny what for my self I move,
Let me, against my self, successful prove.
Prin. Kath.
You may acquaint the King all you have said
Have in my thoughts a fit impression made:
That I (as all who have but heard his name)
Believe his merit has acquir'd his fame;
Though I with passion wish that he had chose
To raise his glory on remoter Foes.
I never more can his address receive
Till from the Queen he has procur'd me leave.
Tudor.
Why do you, Madam, words so cruel speak?
Make him not for you to another seek;
Since, in that way, should he successful prove
'Twill rather shew you can obey then love.
Only to you let him his blessings own.
Prin. Kath.
I have declar'd my resolution.
Tudor.
To what then must the wretched Tudor trust?
Prin. Kath.
To find his cure in what he grants is just.
Tudor.
How can that heal him which does make his wound?
Yet to obey you, Madam, he is bound.
19
Some dying sighs which may offend your Ear;
Forc'd from him by the fiercest griefs assault,
Be pleas'd to pity, not condemn the fault.
[Exit Tudor.
Prin. Kath.
Oh! why is Love call'd Natures highest Law,
When Title, Man's invention, does it awe?
But 'tis the strength which reason does impart
That makes my blood give rules thus to my heart.
If Nature reason on us did bestow,
Love, Natures dictate, twould not overthrow.
But reason is a bright resistless fire
Which Heav'n, not Nature, does in us inspire.
It is not Natures Child, but Natures King;
And o're loves height does us to glory bring.
As bodies are below, and Souls above
So much should reason be preferr'd to Love:
Since Glory is the Souls most proper Sphere,
It does but wander when it moves not there.
This makes that King, who Courts me, France subdue;
And makes me flye what else I would pursue.
| The History of Henry the Fifth | |