The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare (moboreader .TXT) 📕

In iron walls they deem’d me not secure; So great fear of my name ‘mongst them was spread That they suppos’d I could rend bars of steel And spurn in pieces posts of adamant; Wherefore a guard of chosen shot I had That walk’d about me every minute-while; And if I did but stir out of my bed,

Ready they were to shoot me to the heart.

Enter the BOY with a linstock SALISBURY. I grieve to hear what torments you endur’d; But we will be reveng’d sufficiently.

Now it is suppertime in Orleans:

Here, through this grate, I count each one And view the Frenchmen how they fortify.

Let us look in; the sight will much delight thee.

Sir Thomas Gargrave and Sir William Glansdale, Let me have your express opinions

Where is best place to make our batt’ry next.

GARGRAVE. I think at the North Gate; for there stand lords.

GLANSDALE. And I here, at the bulwark of the bridge.

TALBOT. For aught I see, this city must be famish’d, Or with light skirmishes enfeebled.

[Here they shoot and SALISBURY and GARGRAVE

fall down]

SALISBURY. O Lord, have mercy on us, wretched sinners!

GARGRAVE. O Lord, have mercy on me, woeful man!

TALBOT. What chance is this that suddenly hath cross’d us?

Speak, Salisbury; at least, if thou canst speak.

How far’st thou, mirror of all martial men?

One of thy eyes and thy cheek’s side struck off!

Accursed tower! accursed fatal hand

That hath contriv’d this woeful tragedy!

In thirteen battles Salisbury o’ercame; Henry the Fifth he first train’d to the wars; Whilst any trump did sound or drum struck up, His sword did ne’er leave striking in the field.

Yet liv’st thou, Salisbury? Though thy speech doth fail, One eye thou hast to look to heaven for grace; The sun with one eye vieweth all the world.

Heaven, be thou gracious to none alive If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hands!

Bear hence his body; I will help to bury it.

Sir Thomas Gargrave, hast thou any life?

Speak unto Talbot; nay, look up to him.

Salisbury, cheer thy spirit with this comfort, Thou shalt not die whiles

He beckons with his hand and smiles on me, As who should say ‘When I am dead and gone, Remember to avenge me on the French.’

Plantagenet, I will; and like thee, Nero, Play on the lute, beholding the towns burn.

Wretched shall France be only in my name.

[Here an alarum, and it thunders and lightens]

What stir is this? What tumult’s in the heavens?

Whence cometh this alarum and the noise?

Enter a MESSENGER

MESSENGER. My lord, my lord, the French have gather’d head

The Dauphin, with one Joan la Pucelle join’d, A holy prophetess new risen up,

Is come with a great power to raise the siege.

[Here SALISBURY lifteth himself up and groans]

TALBOT. Hear, hear how dying Salisbury doth groan.

It irks his heart he cannot be reveng’d.

Frenchmen, I’ll be a Salisbury to you.

Pucelle or puzzel, dolphin or dogfish, Your hearts I’ll stamp out with my horse’s heels And make a quagmire of your mingled brains.

Convey me Salisbury into his tent,

And then we’ll try what these dastard Frenchmen dare.

Alarum. Exeunt

SCENE 5.

Before Orleans

Here an alarum again, and TALBOT pursueth the DAUPHIN and driveth him. Then enter JOAN LA PUCELLE

driving Englishmen before her. Then enter TALBOT

TALBOT. Where is my strength, my valour, and my force?

Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them; A woman clad in armour chaseth them.

Enter LA PUCELLE

Here, here she comes. I’ll have a bout with thee.

Devil or devil’s dam, I’ll conjure thee; Blood will I draw on thee-thou art a witch And straightway give thy soul to him thou serv’st.

PUCELLE. Come, come, ‘tis only I that must disgrace thee.

[Here they fight]

TALBOT. Heavens, can you suffer hell so to prevail?

My breast I’ll burst with straining of my courage.

And from my shoulders crack my arms asunder, But I will chastise this high minded strumpet.

[They fight again]

PUCELLE. Talbot, farewell; thy hour is not yet come.

I must go victual Orleans forthwith.

[A short alarum; then enter the town with soldiers]

O’ertake me if thou canst; I scorn thy strength.

Go, go, cheer up thy hungry starved men; Help Salisbury to make his testament.

This day is ours, as many more shall be. Exit TALBOT. My thoughts are whirled like a potter’s wheel; I know not where I am nor what I do.

A witch by fear, not force, like Hannibal, Drives back our troops and conquers as she lists.

So bees with smoke and doves with noisome stench Are from their hives and houses driven away.

They call’d us, for our fierceness, English dogs; Now like to whelps we crying run away.

[A short alarum]

Hark, countrymen! Either renew the fight Or tear the lions out of England’s coat; Renounce your soil, give sheep in lions’ stead: Sheep run not half so treacherous from the wolf, Or horse or oxen from the leopard,

As you fly from your oft subdued slaves.

[Alarum. Here another skirmish]

It will not be-retire into your trenches.

You all consented unto Salisbury’s death, For none would strike a stroke in his revenge.

Pucelle is ent’red into Orleans

In spite of us or aught that we could do.

O, would I were to die with Salisbury!

The shame hereof will make me hide my head.

Exit TALBOT. Alarum; retreat SCENE 6.

ORLEANS

Flourish. Enter on the walls, LA PUCELLE, CHARLES, REIGNIER, ALENCON, and soldiers PUCELLE. Advance our waving colours on the walls; Rescu’d is Orleans from the English.

Thus Joan la Pucelle hath perform’d her word.

CHARLES. Divinest creature, Astraea’s daughter, How shall I honour thee for this success?

Thy promises are like Adonis’ gardens, That one day bloom’d and fruitful were the next.

France, triumph in thy glorious prophetess.

Recover’d is the town of Orleans.

More blessed hap did ne’er befall our state.

REIGNIER. Why ring not out the bells aloud throughout the town?

Dauphin, command the citizens make bonfires And feast and banquet in the open streets To celebrate the joy that God hath given us.

ALENCON. All France will be replete with mirth and joy When they shall hear how we have play’d the men.

CHARLES. ‘Tis Joan, not we, by whom the day is won; For which I will divide my crown with her; And all the priests and friars in my realm Shall in procession sing her endless praise.

A statelier pyramis to her I’ll rear

Than Rhodope’s of Memphis ever was.

In memory of her, when she is dead,

Her ashes, in an urn more precious

Than the rich jewel’d coffer of Darius, Transported shall be at high festivals Before the kings and queens of France.

No longer on Saint Denis will we cry, But Joan la Pucelle shall be France’s saint.

Come in, and let us banquet royally

After this golden day of victory. Flourish. Exeunt

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ACT II. SCENE 1.

Before Orleans

Enter a FRENCH SERGEANT and two SENTINELS

SERGEANT. Sirs, take your places and be vigilant.

If any noise or soldier you perceive

Near to the walls, by some apparent sign Let us have knowledge at the court of guard.

FIRST SENTINEL. Sergeant, you shall. [Exit SERGEANT]

Thus are poor servitors,

When others sleep upon their quiet beds, Constrain’d to watch in darkness, rain, and cold.

Enter TALBOT, BEDFORD, BURGUNDY, and forces, with scaling-ladders; their drums beating a dead march

TALBOT. Lord Regent, and redoubted Burgundy, By whose approach the regions of Artois, Wallon, and Picardy, are friends to us, This happy night the Frenchmen are secure, Having all day carous’d and banqueted; Embrace we then this opportunity,

As fitting best to quittance their deceit, Contriv’d by art and baleful sorcery.

BEDFORD. Coward of France, how much he wrongs his fame, Despairing of his own arm’s fortitude, To join with witches and the help of hell!

BURGUNDY. Traitors have never other company.

But what’s that Pucelle whom they term so pure?

TALBOT. A maid, they say.

BEDFORD. A maid! and be so martial!

BURGUNDY. Pray God she prove not masculine ere long, If underneath the standard of the French She carry armour as she hath begun.

TALBOT. Well, let them practise and converse with spirits: God is our fortress, in whose conquering name Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks.

BEDFORD. Ascend, brave Talbot; we will follow thee.

TALBOT. Not all together; better far, I guess, That we do make our entrance several ways; That if it chance the one of us do fail The other yet may rise against their force.

BEDFORD. Agreed; I’ll to yond corner.

BURGUNDY. And I to this.

TALBOT. And here will Talbot mount or make his grave.

Now, Salisbury, for thee, and for the right Of English Henry, shall this night appear How much in duty I am bound to both.

[The English scale the walls and cry ‘Saint George!

a Talbot!’]

SENTINEL. Arm! arm! The enemy doth make assault.

The French leap o’er the walls in their shirts.

Enter, several ways, BASTARD, ALENCON, REIGNIER, half ready and half unready ALENCON. How now, my lords? What, all unready so?

BASTARD. Unready! Ay, and glad we ‘scap’d so well.

REIGNIER. ‘Twas time, I trow, to wake and leave our beds, Hearing alarums at our chamber doors.

ALENCON. Of all exploits since first I follow’d arms Ne’er heard I of a warlike enterprise More venturous or desperate than this.

BASTARD. I think this Talbot be a fiend of hell.

REIGNIER. If not of hell, the heavens, sure, favour him ALENCON. Here cometh Charles; I marvel how he sped.

Enter CHARLES and LA PUCELLE

BASTARD. Tut! holy Joan was his defensive guard.

CHARLES. Is this thy cunning, thou deceitful dame?

Didst thou at first, to flatter us withal, Make us partakers of a little gain

That now our loss might be ten times so much?

PUCELLE. Wherefore is Charles impatient with his friend?

At all times will you have my power alike?

Sleeping or waking, must I still prevail Or will you blame and lay the fault on me?

Improvident soldiers! Had your watch been good This sudden mischief never could have fall’n.

CHARLES. Duke of Alencon, this was your default That, being captain of the watch tonight, Did look no better to that weighty charge.

ALENCON. Had all your quarters been as safely kept As that whereof I had the government, We had not been thus shamefully surpris’d.

BASTARD. Mine was secure.

REIGNIER. And so was mine, my lord.

CHARLES. And, for myself, most part of all this night, Within her quarter and mine own precinct I was employ’d in passing to and fro

About relieving of the sentinels.

Then how or which way should they first break in?

PUCELLE. Question, my lords, no further of the case, How or which way; ‘tis sure they found some place But weakly guarded, where the breach was made.

And now there rests no other shift but this To gather our soldiers, scatter’d and dispers’d, And lay new platforms to endamage them.

Alarum. Enter an ENGLISH SOLDIER, crying ‘A Talbot! A Talbot!’ They fly, leaving their clothes behind SOLDIER. I’ll be so