John. The sword of Orleans hath not made me
smart,

These words of yours draw life-blood from my heart:
On that advantage, bought with such a shame
(To save a paltry life, and slay bright fame,)
Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly,
The coward horse, that bears me, fall and die:
And like' me to the peasant boys of France;
To be shame's scorn, and subject of mischance!
Surely, by all the glory you have won,
An if I fly, I am not Talbot's son:

Then talk no more of flight, it is no boot:
If son to Talbot, die at Talbot's foot.

Tal. Then follow thou thy desperate sire of Crete,
Thou Icarus; thy life to me is sweet:

If thou wilt fight, fight by thy father's side;
And, commendable prov'd, let's die in pride.

[Exeunt. SCENE VII-Another part of the same.Alarum: Excursions. Enter Talbot wounded, supported by a Servant.

Tal. Where is my other life?-mine own is gone:

Thou maiden youth, be vanquish'd by a maid:
But-with a proud, majestical high scorn,-
He answered thus; Young Talbot was not born
To be the pillage of a giglot wench:
So, rushing in the bowels of the French,
He left me proudly, as unworthy fight.

Bur. Doubtless he would have made a noble
knight:

See, where he lies inhersed in the arms
Of the most bloody nurser of his harms.

Bast. Hew them to pieces, hack their bones
asunder;

Whose life was England's glory, Gallia's wonder,
Char. O, no; forbear: for that which we have fled
During the life, let us not wrong it dead.

Enter Sir William Lucy, attended; a French
herald preceding.

Lucy. Herald,

Who hath obtain'd the glory of the day.
Conduct me to the dauphin's tent; to know

Char. On what submissive message art thou sent?
Lucy. Submission, dauphin? 'tis a mere French
word;

I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta'en,
And to survey the bodies of the dead,

Char. For prisoners ask'st thou? hell our prison is.
But tell me whom thou seek'st.

Lucy. Where is the great Alcides of the field, Valiant lord Talbot, earl of Shrewsbury; Created, for his rare success in arms,

O, where's young Talbot? where is valiant John ?-We English warriors wot not what it means.
Triumphant death, smear'd with captivity !2
Young Talbot's valour makes me smile at thee :-
When he perceiv'd me shrink, and on my knee,
His bloody sword he brandish'd over me,
And, like a hungry lion, did commence
Rough deeds of rage, and stern impatience;
But when my angry guardant stood alone,
Tend'ring my run, and assail'd of none,
Dizzy-ey'd fury, and great rage of heart,
Suddenly made him from my side to start
Into the clust'ring battle of the French:
And in that sea of blood my boy did drench
His overmounting spirit; and there died
My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride.

Enter Soldiers, bearing the body of John Talbot.
Serv. O my dear lord! lo, where your son is
borne !

Tal. Thou antic death, which laugh'st us here
to scorn,

Anon, from thy insulting tyranny,
Coupled in bonds of perpetuity,

Two Talbots, winged through the lither" sky,
In thy despite, shall 'scape mortality.-

Great earl of Washford, Waterford, and Valence;
Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield,
Lord Strange of Blackmere, lord Verdun of Alton,
Lord Cromwell of Wingfield, lord Furnival of

Sheffield,

The thrice victorious lord of Falconbridge;
Knight of the noble order of Saint George,
Worthy Saint Michael, and the golden fleece;
Great mareshal to Henry the Sixth,
Of all his wars within the realm of France?

Puc. Here is a silly stately style indeed!
The Turk, that two and fifty kingdoms hath,
Writes not so tedious a style as this.-
Him, that thou magnifiest with all these titles,
Stinking, and fly-blown, lies here at our feet.
Lucy. Is Talbot slain; the Frenchmen's only

scourge,

O thou, whose wounds become hard-favour'd death, Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis?
Speak to thy father, ere thou vield thy breath: O, were mine eye-balls into bullets turn'd,
Brave death by speaking, whether he will, or no ; That I, in rage, might shoot them at your faces!
Imagine him a Frenchman, and thy foe.-
O, that I could but call these dead to life!
Poor boy! he smiles, methinks; as who should say-It were enough to fright the realm of France:
Had death been French, then death had died to-day.
Come, come, and lay him in his father's arms;
My spirit can no longer bear these harms.
Soldiers, adieu! I have what I would have,
Now my old arms are young John Talbot's grave.
[Dies.
Alarums. Exeunt Soldiers and Servant, leaving
the two bodies. Enter Charles, Alençon, Bur-
gundy, Bastard, La Pucelle, and forces.
Char. Had York and Somerset brought rescue in,
We should have found a bloody day of this.
Bast. How the young whelp of Talbot's, raging-
wood,'

Were but his picture left among you here,
It would amaze the proudest of you all.
Give me their bodies; that I may bear them hence,
And give them burial as beseems their worth.

Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood!
Puc. Once I encounter'd him, and thus I said,

(1) Liken me, reduce me to a level with.
(2) Death stained and dishonoured with captivity.
(3) Watching me with tenderness in my fall.'

Puc. I think, this upstart is old Talbot's ghost,
He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit.
They would but stink, and putrefy the air.
For God's sake, let him have 'em; to keep them here,
Char. Go, take their bodies hence.
Lucy.

I'll bear them hence:
But from their ashes shall be rear'd
A phoenix that shall make all France afeard.
Char. So we be rid of them, do with 'em what
thou wilt.

And now to Paris, in this conquering vein ;
All will be ours, now bloody Talbot's slain. [Exe.

(4) Flexible, yielding.
(5) Raving mad.
(7) Confound.

(6) Wanton.

Glo. Well, my good lord; and as the only means
To stop effusion of our Christian blood,
And 'stablish quietness on every side.

K. Hen. Ay, marry, uncle, for I always thought,
It was both impious and unnatural,
That such immanity' and bloody strife
Should reign among professors of one faith.

Glos. Beside, my lord,-the sooner to effect,
And surer bind, this knot of amity,-

The earl of Armagnac-near knit to Charles,
A man of great authority in France,-
Proffers his only daughter to your grace
In marriage, with a large and sumptuous dowry.
K. Hen. Marriage, uncle! alas! my years are

young;

And fitter is my study and my books,
Than wanton dalliance with a paramour.
Yet, call the ambassadors: and, as you please,
So let them have their answers every one;
I shall be well content with any choice,
Tends to God's glory, and my country's weal.
Enter a Legate, and two ambassadors, with Win-
chester, in a cardinal's habit.

Exe. What is my lord of Winchester install'd,
And call'd unto a cardinal's degree?
Then, I perceive, that will be verified,
Henry the Fifth did sometime prophesy,--

If once he come to be a cardinal,

He'll make his cap co-equal with the crown.

Humphrey of Gloster, thou shalt well perceive,
That, neither in birth, or for authority,
The bishop will be overborne by thee:
I'll either make thee stoop, and bend thy knee,
Or sack this country with a mutiny. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.-France. Plains in Anjou. Enter
Charles, Burgundy, Alençon, La Pucelle, and
forces, marching.

Char. These news, my lords, may cheer our
drooping spirits:

'Tis said, the stout Parisians do revolt,
And turn again unto the warlike French.
Alen. Then march to Paris, royal Charles of
France,

And keep not back your powers in dalliance.
Puc. Peace be amongst them, if they turn to us;
Else, ruin combat with their palaces!

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Success unto our valiant general,
And happiness to his accomplices!

Char. What tidings send our scouts? I pr'ythee,

speak.

Mess. The English army, that divided was
Into two parts, is now conjoin'd in one;
And means to give you battle presently.

Char. Somewhat too sudden, sirs, the warning is;
But we will presently provide for them.

Bur. I trust the ghost of Talbot is not there; Now he is gone, my lord, you need not fear.

Puc. Of all base passions, fear is most accurs'd:Command the conquest, Charles, it shall be thine; Let Henry fret, and all the world repine.

Char. Then on, my lords; and France be for[Exeunt,

tunate!

SCENE III.-The same. Before Angiers.
Alarums: Excursions. Enter La Pucelle.
Puc. The regent conquers, and the Frenchmen
Av.-

Now help, ye charming spells, and periapts;2
And ye choice spirits that admonish me,

K. Hen. My lords ambassadors, your several suits And give me signs of future accidents!

Have been consider'd and debated on.

Your purpose is both good and reasonable:
And, therefore, are we certainly resolv'd
To draw conditions of a friendly peace;
Which, by my lord of Winchester, we mean
Shall be transported presently to France.

You speedy helpers, that are substitutes
Under the lordly monarch of the north,"
Appear, and aid me in this enterprise !
Enter Fiends,

[Thunder,

Glo. And for the proffer of my lord your master,-This speedy quick appearance argues proof

I have informed his highness so at large,
As-liking of the lady's virtuous gifts,
Her beauty, and the value of her dower,-
He doth intend she shall be England's queen.
K. Hen. In argument and proof of which con-
trách,

Bear her this jewel, [To the Amb.] pledge of my
affection.

And so, my lord protector, see them guarded,
And safely brought to Dover; where, inshipp'd,
Commit them to the fortune of the sea.

[Exeunt King Henry and train; Gloster,
Exeter, and Ambassadors.
Win. Stav, my lord legate; you shall first receive
The sum of money, which I promised
Should be deliver'd to his holiness
For clothing me in these grave ornaments.

Leg. I will attend upon your lordship's leisure.
Win. Now, Winchester will not submit, I trow,
Or be inferior to the proudest peer.

Of your accustom'd diligence to me.
Now, ve familiar spirits, that are cull'd
Out of the powerful regions under earth,
Help me this once, that France may get the field.
[They walk about, and speak not,

O, hold me not with silence over-long!
Where I was wont to feed you with my blood,
I'll lop a member off, and give it you,
In earnest of a further benefit;
So you do condescend to help me now.-

[They hang their heads,
No hope to have redress?-My body shall
Pay recompense, if you will grant my suit.
[They shake their heads,
Cannot my body, nor blood-sacrifice,
Entreat you to your wonted furtherance?
Then take my soul; my body, soul, and alt,
Before that England give the French the foil.

[They depart,

See! they forsake me. Now the time is come,

(3) The north was supposed to be the particular Thabitation of bad spirits,

Then how can Margaret be thy paramour?

[Aside.

Mar. I were best leave him, for he will not hear.
Suff. There all is marr'd; there lies a cooling card.
Mar. He talks at random: sure the man is mad.
Suff. And yet a dispensation may be had.

That France must vail' her lofty-plumed crest,
And let her head fall into England's lap.
My ancient incantations are too weak,
And hell too strong for me to buckle with:
Now, France, thy glory droopeth to the dust. [Ex.
Alarums. Enter French and English, fighting.
Mar. And yet I would that you would answer me.
La Pucelle and York fight hand to hand. La
Suff. I'll win this lady Margaret. For whom?
Pucelle is taken. The French fly.
Why, for my king: Tush! that's a wooden thing.
Mar. He talks of wood: It is some carpenter.
Suff. Yet so my fancy' may be satisfied,
And peace established between these realms.
But there remains a scruple in that too:
For though her father be the king of Naples,
Duke of Anjou and Maine, yet he is poor,
And our nobility will scorn the match.

York. Damsel of France, I think I have you fast:
Unchain your spirits now with spelling charms,
And try if they can gain your liberty.-
A goodly prize, fit for the devil's grace!
See how the ugly witch doth bend her brows,
As if, with Circe, she would change my shape.
Puc. Chang'd to a worser shape thou canst not be.
York. O, Charles the Dauphin is a proper man;
No shape but his can please your dainty eye.

Puc. A plaguing mischief light on Charles, and
thee!

And may ye both be suddenly surpris'd
By bloody hands in sleeping on your beds!

York. Fell, banning hag! enchantress, hold thy

tongue.

Puc. I pr'ythee, give me leave to curse a while.
York. Curse, miscreant, when thou comest to the
stake.
[Exeunt.
Alarums. Enter Suffolk, leading in Lady Mar-
garet.

Suff. Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner.
[Gazes on her.

O fairest beauty, do not fear, nor fly;
For I will touch thee but with reverent hands,
And lay them gently on thy tender side.

I kiss these fingers [Kissing her hand.] for eternal

peace :

Who art thou? say, that I may honour thee.

Mar. Margaret my name: and daughter to a king, The king of Naples, whosoe'er thou art.

Suff. An earl I am, and Suffolk am I call'd.

Be not offended, nature's miracle,
Thou art allotted to be ta'en by me:
So doth the swan her downy cygnets save,
Keeping them prisoners underneath her wings.
Yet, if this servile usage once offend,
Go, and be free again as Suffolk's friend.

[She turns away as going.
O, stay!-I have no power to let her pass;
My hand would free her, but my heart says-no.
As plays the sun upon the glassy streams,
Twinkling another counterfeited beam,

So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes.
Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak:
I'll call for pen and ink, and write my inind:
Fie, De la Poole! disable not thyself;3
Hast not a tongue? is she not here thy prisoner?
Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight?
Av; beauty's princely majesty is such,
Confounds the tongue, and makes the senses rough.
Mar. Say, earl of Suffolk,-if thy name be so,-
What ransom must I pay before I pass?
For, I perceive, I am thy prisoner.

Suff. How canst thou tell, she will deny thy suit,
Before thou make a trial of her love? [Aside.
Mar. Why speak'st thou not? what ransom must
I pay?

Suff. She's beautiful; and therefore to be woo'd:
She is a woman; therefore to be won. [Aside.
Mar. Wilt thou accept of ransom, vea, or no?
Suff. Fond man! remember, that thou hast a wife;

Lower. (2) To ban is to curse,
'Do not represent thyself so weak.'

[Aside. Mar. Hear ye, captain? Are you not at leisure? Suff. It shall be so, disdain they ne'er so much: Henry is youthful, and will quickly yield.— Madam, I have a secret to reveal.

Mar. What though I be enthrall'd? he seems a knight,

And will not any way dishonour me.

[Aside. Suff. Lady, vouchsafe to listen what I say. Mur. Perhaps I shall be rescu'd by the French; And then I need not crave his courtesy. [Aside. Suff. Sweet madam, give me hearing in a cause-Mar. Tush! women have been captivate ere [Aside.

now.

Suff. Lady, wherefore talk you so?
Mar. I cry you mercy, 'tis but quid for quo.
Suff. Say, gentle princess, would you not suppose
Your bondage happy, to be made a queen?
Mar. To be a queen in bondage, is more vile,
Than is a slave in base servility;
For princes should be free.

Suff

And so shall you,

If happy England's royal king be free.
Mar. Why, what concerns his freedom unto me?
Suff. 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-
Mar.

Suff. His love.

What?

Mar. I am unworthy to be Henry's wife.
Suff. 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 you so content?
Mar. An if my father please, I am content.
Suff. 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.
[Troops come forward.

A parley sounded. Enter Reignier on the walls.
Suff. See, Reignier, see, thy daughter prisoner,
Reig. To whom?
Suff
Reig.

To me.

Suffolk, what remedy?

I am a soldier; and unapt to weep,
Or to exclaim on fortune's fickleness.

Suff. 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 apd won thereto;
And this her easy-held imprisonment
Hath gain'd thy daughter princely liberty.

(4) An awkward business, an undertaking nol likely to succeed.

(5) Love,

24

Reig. Speaks Suffolk as he thinks?
Suff
That Suffolk doth not flatter, face,' or eign.
Fair Margaret knos,
Reig. Upon thy princely warrant, I descend,
To give thee answer of thy just demand.

Suff. And here I will expect thy coming.
[Exil, from the walls.
Trumpets sounded. Enter Reignier, below.
Reig. Welcome, brave earl, into our territo-

ries;

Command in Anjou what your honour pleases.
Suff. Thanks, Reignier, happy for so sweet a
child,

Fit to be made companion with a king:
What answer makes your grace unto my suit?
Reig. 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 county Maine, and Anjou,
Free from oppression, or the stroke of war,
My daughter shall be Henry's, if he please.

Suff. That is her ransom, I deliver her;
And those two counties, I will undertake,
Your grace shall well and quietly enjoy.
Reig. And I again,-in Henry's royal name,
As deputy unto that gracious king,

Give thee her hand, for sign of plighted faith.
Suff. 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.

;

Reig. I do embrace thee, as I would embrace The Christian prince, king Henry, were he here. Mar. Farewell, my lord! Good wishes, praise, and prayers,

[Going.

Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret.
Suff. Farewell, sweet madam! But, hark you,
Margaret;

No princely commendations to my king?

Mar. Such commendations as become a maid, A virgin, and his servant, say to him.

Suff. Words sweetly plac'd, and modestly di-
rected.

But, madam, I must trouble you again,-
No loving token to his majesty?

Mar. Yes, my good lord; a pure unspotted
heart,

Never yet taint with love, I send the king.
Suff. And this withal.
Mar. That for thyself;-I will not so presume,
[Kisses her.
To send such peevish' tokens to a king.
[Exeunt Reignier and Margaret.
Suf. O, wert thou for myself!-But, Suffolk,

stay;

Thou may'st not wander in that labyrinth;
There Minotaurs, and ugly treasons, lurk.
Solicit Henry with her wond'rous praise:
Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount;
Mad,' natural graces that extinguish art;
Repeat their semblance often on the seas,
That, when thou com'st to kneel at Henry's feet,
Thou may'st bereave him of his wits with wonder.
[Exit.

(1) Play the hypocrite.

(2) Childish.

(3) Wild.

(4) Untimely.

(5) Miser here simply means a miserable creature.

Act V. SCENE IV.-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. Shep. Ah, Joan! this kills thy father's heart outright!

And, now it is my chance to find thee out,
Have I sought every country far and near,
Must I behold thy timeless cruel death?'
Ah, Joan, sweet daughter Joan, I'll die with thee!
Puc. Decrepit miser!" base ignoble wretch!
I am descended of a gentler blood;
Thou art no father, nor no friend, of mine.
Shep. 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 bachelorship.
War. Graceless! wilt thou deny thy parentage?
York. This argues what her kind of life hath been;
Wicked and vile; and so her death concludes.

Shep. 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 pr'ythee, gentle Joan.

Puc. Peasant, avaunt!-You have suborn'd this

man,

On purpose to obscure my noble birth.

Shep. '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 a-field,
Dost thou deny thy father, cursed drab !
I wish some ravenous wolf had eaten thee!
O, burn her, burn her; hanging is too good. [Exit.
To fill the world with vicious qualities.
York. Take her away; for she hath liv'd too long,

Puc. First, let me tell you whom you have con-
demn'd:

Not me begotten of a shepherd swain,
Virtuous, and holy; chosen from above,
But issu'd from the progeny of kings;
By inspiration of celestial grace,
To work exceeding miracles on earth.
But vou,-that are polluted with your lusts,
I never had to do with wicked spirits:
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
No, misconceived! Joan of Arc hath been
To compass wonders, but by help of devils.
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.
War. And hark ye, sirs; because she is a maid,
Spare for no faggots, let there be enough:
Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake,
That so her torture may be shortened.

Puc. Will nothing turn your unrelenting hearts?—
Then, Joan, discover thine infirmity;

(6) A corruption of obstinate.

(7) 'No, ye misconceivers, ye who mistake me

and my qualities.'