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

SUFFOLK. Sweet madam, give me hearing in a cause MARGARET. [Aside] Tush! women have been captivate ere now.

SUFFOLK. Lady, wherefore talk you so?

MARGARET. I cry you mercy, ‘tis but quid for quo.

SUFFOLK. Say, gentle Princess, would you not suppose Your bondage happy, to be made a queen?

MARGARET. To be a queen in bondage is more vile Than is a slave in base servility;

For princes should be free.

SUFFOLK. And so shall you,

If happy England’s royal king be free.

MARGARET. Why, what concerns his freedom unto me?

SUFFOLK. I’ll undertake to make thee Henry’s queen, To put a golden sceptre in thy hand

And set a precious crown upon thy head, If thou wilt condescend to be my-MARGARET. What?

SUFFOLK. His love.

MARGARET. I am unworthy to be Henry’s wife.

SUFFOLK. No, gentle madam; I unworthy am To woo so fair a dame to be his wife

And have no portion in the choice myself.

How say you, madam? Are ye so content?

MARGARET. An if my father please, I am content.

SUFFOLK. Then call our captains and our colours forth!

And, madam, at your father’s castle walls We’ll crave a parley to confer with him.

Sound a parley. Enter REIGNIER on the walls See, Reignier, see, thy daughter prisoner!

REIGNIER. To whom?

SUFFOLK. To me.

REIGNIER. Suffolk, what remedy?

I am a soldier and unapt to weep

Or to exclaim on fortune’s fickleness.

SUFFOLK. Yes, there is remedy enough, my lord.

Consent, and for thy honour give consent, Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king, Whom I with pain have woo’d and won thereto; And this her easy-held imprisonment

Hath gain’d thy daughter princely liberty.

REIGNIER. Speaks Suffolk as he thinks?

SUFFOLK. Fair Margaret knows

That Suffolk doth not flatter, face, or feign.

REIGNIER. Upon thy princely warrant I descend To give thee answer of thy just demand.

Exit REIGNIER from the walls SUFFOLK. And here I will expect thy coming.

Trumpets sound. Enter REIGNIER below REIGNIER. Welcome, brave Earl, into our territories; Command in Anjou what your Honour pleases.

SUFFOLK. Thanks, Reignier, happy for so sweet a child, Fit to be made companion with a king.

What answer makes your Grace unto my suit?

REIGNIER. Since thou dost deign to woo her little worth To be the princely bride of such a lord, Upon condition I may quietly

Enjoy mine own, the country Maine and Anjou, Free from oppression or the stroke of war, My daughter shall be Henry’s, if he please.

SUFFOLK. That is her ransom; I deliver her.

And those two counties I will undertake Your Grace shall well and quietly enjoy.

REIGNIER. And I again, in Henry’s royal name, As deputy unto that gracious king,

Give thee her hand for sign of plighted faith.

SUFFOLK. Reignier of France, I give thee kingly thanks, Because this is in traffic of a king.

[Aside] And yet, methinks, I could be well content To be mine own attorney in this case.

I’ll over then to England with this news, And make this marriage to be solemniz’d.

So, farewell, Reignier. Set this diamond safe In golden palaces, as it becomes.

REIGNIER. I do embrace thee as I would embrace The Christian prince, King Henry, were he here.

MARGARET. Farewell, my lord. Good wishes, praise, and prayers,

Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret. [She is going]

SUFFOLK. Farewell, sweet madam. But hark you, Margaret No princely commendations to my king?

MARGARET. Such commendations as becomes a maid, A virgin, and his servant, say to him.

SUFFOLK. Words sweetly plac’d and modestly directed.

But, madam, I must trouble you again

No loving token to his Majesty?

MARGARET. Yes, my good lord: a pure unspotted heart, Never yet taint with love, I send the King.

SUFFOLK. And this withal. [Kisses her]

MARGARET. That for thyself, I will not so presume To send such peevish tokens to a king.

Exeunt REIGNIER and MARGARET

SUFFOLK. O, wert thou for myself! But, Suffolk, stay; Thou mayst not wander in that labyrinth: There Minotaurs and ugly treasons lurk.

Solicit Henry with her wondrous praise.

Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount, And natural graces that extinguish art; Repeat their semblance often on the seas, That, when thou com’st to kneel at Henry’s feet, Thou mayst bereave him of his wits with wonder. Exit

SCENE 4.

Camp of the DUKE OF YORK in Anjou Enter YORK, WARWICK, and others YORK. Bring forth that sorceress, condemn’d to burn.

Enter LA PUCELLE, guarded, and a SHEPHERD

SHEPHERD. Ah, Joan, this kills thy father’s heart outright!

Have I sought every country far and near, And, now it is my chance to find thee out, Must I behold thy timeless cruel death?

Ah, Joan, sweet daughter Joan, I’ll die with thee!

PUCELLE. Decrepit miser! base ignoble wretch!

I am descended of a gentler blood;

Thou art no father nor no friend of mine.

SHEPHERD. Out, out! My lords, an please you, ‘tis not so; I did beget her, all the parish knows.

Her mother liveth yet, can testify

She was the first fruit of my bach’lorship.

WARWICK. Graceless, wilt thou deny thy parentage?

YORK. This argues what her kind of life hath been-Wicked and vile; and so her death concludes.

SHEPHERD. Fie, Joan, that thou wilt be so obstacle!

God knows thou art a collop of my flesh; And for thy sake have I shed many a tear.

Deny me not, I prithee, gentle Joan.

PUCELLE. Peasant, avaunt! You have suborn’d this man Of purpose to obscure my noble birth.

SHEPHERD. ‘Tis true, I gave a noble to the priest The morn that I was wedded to her mother.

Kneel down and take my blessing, good my girl.

Wilt thou not stoop? Now cursed be the time Of thy nativity. I would the milk

Thy mother gave thee when thou suck’dst her breast Had been a little ratsbane for thy sake.

Or else, when thou didst keep my lambs afield, I wish some ravenous wolf had eaten thee.

Dost thou deny thy father, cursed drab?

O, burn her, burn her! Hanging is too good. Exit YORK. Take her away; for she hath liv’d too long, To fill the world with vicious qualities.

PUCELLE. First let me tell you whom you have condemn’d: Not me begotten of a shepherd swain,

But issued from the progeny of kings; Virtuous and holy, chosen from above

By inspiration of celestial grace,

To work exceeding miracles on earth.

I never had to do with wicked spirits.

But you, that are polluted with your lusts, Stain’d with the guiltless blood of innocents, Corrupt and tainted with a thousand vices, Because you want the grace that others have, You judge it straight a thing impossible To compass wonders but by help of devils.

No, misconceived! Joan of Arc hath been A virgin from her tender infancy,

Chaste and immaculate in very thought; Whose maiden blood, thus rigorously effus’d, Will cry for vengeance at the gates of heaven.

YORK. Ay, ay. Away with her to execution!

WARWICK. And hark ye, sirs; because she is a maid, Spare for no fagots, let there be enow.

Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake, That so her torture may be shortened.

PUCELLE. Will nothing turn your unrelenting hearts?

Then, Joan, discover thine infirmity

That warranteth by law to be thy privilege: I am with child, ye bloody homicides; Murder not then the fruit within my womb, Although ye hale me to a violent death.

YORK. Now heaven forfend! The holy maid with child!

WARWICK. The greatest miracle that e’er ye wrought: Is all your strict preciseness come to this?

YORK. She and the Dauphin have been juggling.

I did imagine what would be her refuge.

WARWICK. Well, go to; we’ll have no bastards live; Especially since Charles must father it.

PUCELLE. You are deceiv’d; my child is none of his: It was Alencon that enjoy’d my love.

YORK. Alencon, that notorious Machiavel!

It dies, an if it had a thousand lives.

PUCELLE. O, give me leave, I have deluded you.

‘Twas neither Charles nor yet the Duke I nam’d, But Reignier, King of Naples, that prevail’d.

WARWICK. A married man! That’s most intolerable.

YORK. Why, here’s a girl! I think she knows not well There were so many-whom she may accuse.

WARWICK. It’s sign she hath been liberal and free.

YORK. And yet, forsooth, she is a virgin pure.

Strumpet, thy words condemn thy brat and thee.

Use no entreaty, for it is in vain.

PUCELLE. Then lead me hence-with whom I leave my curse:

May never glorious sun reflex his beams Upon the country where you make abode; But darkness and the gloomy shade of death Environ you, till mischief and despair Drive you to break your necks or hang yourselves!

Exit, guarded YORK. Break thou in pieces and consume to ashes, Thou foul accursed minister of hell!

Enter CARDINAL BEAUFORT, attended CARDINAL. Lord Regent, I do greet your Excellence With letters of commission from the King.

For know, my lords, the states of Christendom, Mov’d with remorse of these outrageous broils, Have earnestly implor’d a general peace Betwixt our nation and the aspiring French; And here at hand the Dauphin and his train Approacheth, to confer about some matter.

YORK. Is all our travail turn’d to this effect?

After the slaughter of so many peers, So many captains, gentlemen, and soldiers, That in this quarrel have been overthrown And sold their bodies for their country’s benefit, Shall we at last conclude effeminate peace?

Have we not lost most part of all the towns, By treason, falsehood, and by treachery, Our great progenitors had conquered?

O Warwick, Warwick! I foresee with grief The utter loss of all the realm of France.

WARWICK. Be patient, York. If we conclude a peace, It shall be with such strict and severe covenants As little shall the Frenchmen gain thereby.

Enter CHARLES, ALENCON, BASTARD, REIGNIER, and others CHARLES. Since, lords of England, it is thus agreed That peaceful truce shall be proclaim’d in France, We come to be informed by yourselves

What the conditions of that league must be.

YORK. Speak, Winchester; for boiling choler chokes The hollow passage of my poison’d voice, By sight of these our baleful enemies.

CARDINAL. Charles, and the rest, it is enacted thus: That, in regard King Henry gives consent, Of mere compassion and of lenity,

To ease your country of distressful war, An suffer you to breathe in fruitful peace, You shall become true liegemen to his crown; And, Charles, upon condition thou wilt swear To pay him tribute and submit thyself, Thou shalt be plac’d as viceroy under him, And still enjoy thy regal dignity.

ALENCON. Must he be then as shadow of himself?

Adorn his temples with a coronet

And yet, in substance and authority,

Retain but privilege of a private man?

This proffer is absurd and reasonless.

CHARLES. ‘Tis known already that I am possess’d With more than half the Gallian territories, And therein reverenc’d for their lawful king.

Shall I, for lucre of the rest unvanquish’d, Detract so much from that prerogative As to be call’d but viceroy of the whole?

No, Lord Ambassador; I’ll rather keep That which I have than, coveting for more, Be cast from possibility of all.

YORK. Insulting Charles! Hast thou by secret means Us’d intercession to obtain a league, And now the matter grows to compromise Stand’st thou aloof upon comparison?

Either accept the title thou usurp’st, Of benefit proceeding from our king

And not of any challenge of desert,

Or we will plague thee with incessant wars.

REIGNIER. [To CHARLES] My lord, you do not well in obstinacy

To cavil in the course of this contract.

If once it be neglected, ten to one

We shall not find like opportunity.

ALENCON. [To CHARLES] To say the truth,