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FIRST PART

OF

KING HENRY VI.

DRAMATIS PERSONE.

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Charles, Dauphin, and afterwards King of France.

Reignier, Duke of Anjou, and King of Naples. Dukes of Burgundy and Alençon." Bastard of Orleans.

Governor of Paris. Master Gunner of Orleans, and his Son.

General of the French Forces in Bordeaux.

A French Sergeant. A Porter. An old Shep-
pherd, Father to Joan la Pucelle.
Margaret, Daughter to Reignier.
Countess of Auvergne.

Joan la Pucelle, commonly called Joan of Arc. Fiends appearing to La Pucelle, Lords, Warders of the Tower, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, and several Attendants both on the English and French.

SCENE, partly in England, and partly in
France.

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Winchester.

KING HENRY VI.

He was a king, bless'd of the King of kings.
Unto the French the dreadful judgment day
So dreadful will not be, as was his sight.
The battles of the Lord of hosts he fought:
The church's prayers made him so prosperous.
Gloster.

The church! where is it? Had not church

men pray'd,

His thread of life had not so soon decay'd:
None do you like but an effeminate prince,
Whom, like a school-boy, you may over-awe.
Winchester.

Gloster, whate'er we like, thou art protector,
And lookest to command the prince, and realm.
Thy wife is proud; she holdeth thee in awe,
More than God, or religious churchmen may.

Gloster.

Name not religion, for thou lov'st the flesh; And ne'er throughout the year to church thou Except it be to pray against thy foes. [go'st,

Bedford.

Cease, cease these jars, and rest your minds
in peace!

Let's to the altar: Heralds, wait on us. -
Instead of gold, we'll offer up our arms,
Since arms avail not, now that Henry's dead.
Posterity, await for wretched years,

When at their mother's moist eyes babes shall
Our isle be made a nourish of salt tears, [suck,
And none but women left to wail the dead.-
Henry the fifth thy ghost I invocate;
Prosper this realm, keep it from civil broils!
Combat with adverse planets in the heavens !
A far more glorious star thy soul will make,
Than Julius Cæsar, or bright.

Enter a Messenger.
Messenger.

My honourable lords, health to you all.
Sad tidings bring I to you out of France,
Of loss, of slaughter, and discomfiture:
Guienne, Champaigne, Rheims, Orleans,
Paris, Guysors, Poictiers, are all quite lost.
Bedford.

What say'st thou, man, before dead Henry's

corse?

Speak softly, or the loss of those great towns Will make him burst his lead, and rise from death.

Gloster.

Is Paris lost? is Rouen yielded up?

If Henry were recall'd to life again,

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The Dauphin crowned king! all fly to him! O! whither shall we fly from this reproach? Gloster.

We will not fly, but to our enemies' throats.—
Bedford, if thou be slack, I'll fight it out.
Bedford.

Gloster, why doubt'st thou of my forwardness?
Wherewith already France is over-run.
An army have I muster'd in my thoughts,

Enter a third Messenger.

Third Messenger.

My gracious lords, to add to your laments,
Wherewith you now bedew king Henry's hearse,
I must inform you of a dismal fight,

Betwixt the stout lord Talbot and the French.
Winchester.

What! wherein Talbot overcame? is't so?

Third Messenger.

O, no! wherein lord Talbot was o'erthrown:
The circumstance I'll tell you more at large.
The tenth of August last, this dreadful lord,
Retiring from the siege of Orleans,

By three-and-twenty thousand of the French
Having full scarce six thousand in his troop,
Was round encompassed and set upon.
He wanted pikes to set before his archers;
No leisure had he to enrank his men;
Instead whereof, sharp stakes, pluck'd out of
hedges,

They pitched in the ground confusedly,
To keep the horsemen off from breaking in.

These news would cause him once more yield More than three hours the fight continued;

the ghost.

Exeter.

How were they lost? what treachery was us'd?

Messenger

No treachery; but want of men and money.
Among the soldiers this is muttered,-
That here you maintain several factions;
And whilst a field should be despatch'd and
You are disputing of your generals.
One would have lingering wars with little cost;
[fought,
Another would fly swift, but wanteth wings;
A third man thinks, without expense at all,
By guileful fair words peace may be obtain'd.
Awake, awake, English nobility!

Let not sloth dim your honours new-begot:
Cropp'd are the flower-de-luces in your arms;
Of England's coat one half is cut away.

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Here, there, and every where, enrag'd he slew.
The French exclaim'd, the devil was in arms;
All the whole army stood agaz'd on him.
A Talbot! A Talbot! cried out amain,
His soldiers, spying his undaunted spirit,
Here had the conquest fully been seal'd up,
And rush'd into the bowels of the battle.
If sir John Fastolfe had not play'd the coward:
He being in the vaward, plac'd behind
With purpose to relieve and follow them,
Cowardly fled, not having struck one stroke.
Hence grew the general wreck and massacre:
Enclosed were they with their enemies.
A base Walloon, to win the Dauphin's grace,
Thrust Talbot with a spear into the back;
Whom all France, with their chief assembled
strength,

Durst not presume to look once in the face.
Bedford.

M M

Bedford.

Is Talbot slain? then, I will slay myself, For living idly here in pomp and ease, Whilst such a worthy leader, wanting aid, Unto his dastard foe-men is betray'd. Third Messenger.

O, no! he lives; but is took prisoner, And lord Scales with him, and lord Hungerford: Most of the rest slaughter'd, or took, likewise. Bedford.

His ransom there is none but I shall pay.
I'll hale the Dauphin headlong from his throne;
His crown shall be the ransom of my friend:
Four of their lords I'll change for one of ours.-
Farewell, my masters; to my task will I.
Bonfires in France forthwith I am to make,
To keep our great Saint George's feast withal:
Ten thousand soldiers with me I will take,
Whose bloody deeds shall make all Europe quake.
Third Messenger.

So you had need; for Orleans is besieg'd.
The English army is grown weak and faint;
The earl of Salisbury craveth supply,
And hardly keeps his men from mutiny,
Since they, so few, watch such a multitude.
Exeter.

Remember, lords, your oaths to Henry sworn,
Either to quell the Dauphin utterly,
Or bring him in obedience to your yoke.

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Who ever saw the like? what men have I!Dogs! cowards! dastards!-I would ne'er have fled,

But that they left me 'midst my enemies.
Reignier.

Salisbury is a desperate homicide;
He fighteth as one weary of his life:
The other lords, like lions wanting food,
Do rush upon us as their hungry prey.
Alençon

Froissart, a countryman of ours, records,
England all Olivers and Rowlands bred,
During the time Edward the third did reign.
More truly now may this be verified;
For none but Samsons, and Goliasses,
It sendeth forth to skirmish. One to ten!
Lean raw-bon'd rascals! who would e'er sup-
They had such courage and audacity? [pose

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[Exit.

Be it so.

Each hath his place and function to attend: I am left out; for me nothing remains. But long I will not be Jack-out-of-office: The king from Eltham I intend to send, And sit at chiefest stern of public weal."

[Exit.

SCENE II. France. Before Orleans. Flourish. Enter Charles, with his Forces; Alençon, Reignier, and others. Charles

Mars his true moving, even as in the heavens, So in the earth, to this day is not known. Late did he shine upon the English side; Now we are victors, upon us he smiles. What towns of any moment but we have? At pleasure here we lie near Orleans; [ghosts, Otherwhiles, the famish'd English, like pale Faintly besiege us one hour in a month. Alencon.

They want their porridge, and their fat bullbeeves:

Either they must be dieted like mules,
And have their provender tied to their mouths,
Or piteous they will look like drowned mice.

Reignier
Let's raise the siege. Why live we idly here?
Talbot is taken whom we wont to fear:
Remaineth none but mad-brain'd Salisbury,
And he may well in fretting spend his gall;"
Nor men, nor money, hath he to make war.

Alençon.

Enter the Bastard of Orleans.
Bastard.

Where's the prince Dauphin? I have news for him.

Charles.

Bastard of Orleans, thrice welcome to us.

Bastard. Methinks, your looks are sad, your cheer appall'd:

Hath the late overthrow wrought this offence?
Be not dismay'd, for succour is at hand:
A holy maid hither with me I bring,
Which, by a vision sent to her from heaven,
Ordained is to raise this tedious siege,
And drive the English forth the bounds of France.
The spirit of deep prophecy she hath,
Exceeding the nine sibyls of old Rome;
What's past and what's to come, she can descry.
Speak, shall I call her in? Believe my words,
For they are certain and unfallible.

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Pucelle.

Dauphin, I am by birth a shepherd's daughter, My wit untrain'd in any kind of art. Heaven and our Lady gracious hath it pleas'd To shine on my contemptible estate: Lo! whilst I waited on my tender lambs, And to sun's parching heat display'd my cheeks, God's Mother deigned to appear to me; And, in a vision full of majesty, Will'd me to leave my base vocation, And free my country from calamity. Her aid she promis'd, and assured success: In complete glory she reveal'd herself; And, whereas I was black and swart before, With those clear rays which she infus'd on me, That beauty am I bless'd with, which you may

see.

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Pucelle

I am prepar'd. Here is my keen-edg'd sword, Deck'd with five flower-de-luces on each side; The which at Touraine, in Saint Katharine's churchyard,

Out of a great deal of old iron I chose forth.

Charles. Then, come o' God's name: I fear no woman. Pucelle.

And, while I live, I'll ne'er fly from a man.
[They fight.

Charles.
Stay, stay thy hands! thou art an Amazon,
And fightest with the sword of Deborah.

Pucelle.

Christ's Mother helps me, else I were too weak. Charles.

Whoe'er helps thee, 'tis thou that must help Impatiently I burn with thy desire; [me.

My heart and hands thou hast at once subdued.
Excellent Pucelle, if thy name be so,
Let me thy servant, and not sovereign, be:
'Tis the French Dauphin sueth to thee thus.

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Alençon.

531

Doubtless he shrives this woman to her smock, Else ne'er could he so long protract his speech. Reignier.

Shall we disturb him, since he keeps r.o mean? Alençon.

He may mean more than we poor men do know:

These women are shrewd tempters with their tongues.

Reignier.

My lord, where are you? what devise you on? Shall we give over Orleans, or no?

Pucelle.

Why, no, I say: distrustful recreants! Fight till the last gasp; I will be your guard. Charles.

What she says, I'll confirm: we'll fight it out.

Pucelle.

Assign'd am I to be the English scourge. This night the siege assuredly I'll raise: Expect Saint Martin's summer, halcyon days, Since I have entered into these wars. Glory is like a circle in the water, Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself, With Henry's death the English circle ends, Till by broad spreading it disperse to nought. Dispersed are the glories it included. Now am I like that proud insulting ship, Which Cesar and his fortune bare at once. Charles.

Was Mahomet inspired with a dove?
Thou with an eagle art inspired, then.
Helen, the mother of great Constantine,
Bright star of Venus, fall'n down on the earth,
Nor yet S. Philip's daughters were like thee.
How may I reverently worship thee enough?
Alençon.

Leave off delays, and let us raise the siege.
Reignier.
Woman, do what thou canst to save our
honours.

Drive them from Orleans, and be immortaliz'd.

Charles.

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Second Warder,

Whoe'er he be, you may not be let in.

First Servant.

[Within.

Villains, answer you so the lord protector?

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The Lord protect him! so we answer him; We do no otherwise than we are will'd.

Gloster

Who willed you? or whose will stands but mine ?

There's

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Lieutenant, is it you whose voice I hear? Open the gates! here's Gloster that would enter. Woodville. [Within.

Have patience, noble duke; I may not open; The cardinal of Winchester forbids: From him I have express commandement, That thou, nor none of thine, shall be let in. Gloster.

Faint-hearted Woodville, prizest him 'fore me? Arrogant Winchester, that haughty prelate, Whom Henry, our late sovereign, ne'er could brook?

Thou art no friend to God, or to the king;
Open the gates, or I'll shut thee out shortly.

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Thee I'll chase hence, thou wolf in sheep's array.

Out, tawney coats!— out, scarlet hypocrite! Hero Gloster's Men beat out the Cardinal's Men, and enter in the hurly-burly the Mayor of London and his Officers.

Mayor.

Fie, lords that you, being supreme magistrates,

Thus contumeliously should break the peace! Gloster.

Peace, mayor! thou know'st little of my

wrongs.

Here's Beaufort, that regards nor God nor king, Hath here distrain'd the Tower to his use. Winchester.

Here's Gloster too, a foe to citizens; One that still motions war, and never peace, O'ercharging your free purses with large fines; That seeks to overthrow religion, Because he is protector of the realm;

And would have armour, here, out of the Tower, To crown himself king, and suppress the prince. Glostor.

I will not answer thee with words, but blows. [Here they skirmish again. Mayor.

Nought rests for me, in this tumultuous strife, But to make open prociamation.Come, officer: as loud as e'er thou canst cry.

Officer.

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Gloster, we'll meet, to thy dear cost be sure: Thy heart-blood I will have for this day's work. Mayor.

I'll call for clubs, if you will not away.

Nay, stand thou back; I will not budge a foot: This cardinal's more haughty than the devil. This be Damascus, be thou cursed Cain, To slay thy brother, Abel, if thou wilt.

Gloster.

I will not slay thee, but I'll drive thee back. Thy scarlet robes, as a child's bearing-cloth I'll use to carry thee out of this place.

Winchester.

Do what thou dar'st; I'll beard thee to thy face. Gloster.

What! am I dar'd, and bearded to my face?Draw, men, for all this privileged place; Blue coats to tawney coats. Priest, beware your beard;

[Gloster and his Men attack the Bishop. I mean to tug it, and to cuff you soundly. Under my feet I stamp thy cardinal's hat, In spite of pope or dignities of church; Here by the cheeks I'll drag thee up and down. Winchester.

Gloster, thou'lt answer this before the pope. Gloster.

Winchester goose! I cry a rope! a rope! Now beat them hence, why do you let them. stay?

Gloster.

Mayor, farewell: thou dost but what thou may'st.

Winchester.

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Sirrah, thou know'st how Orleans is besieg'd, And how the English have the suburbs won. Son. Father, I know; and oft have shot at them, Howe'er unfortunate I miss'd my aim. Master-Gunner.

But now thou shalt not. Be thou rul'd by me:

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