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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?
Joan. 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
Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis?
O! were mine eyeballs into bullets turn'd,
That I in rage might shoot them at your faces.
O! that I could but call these dead to life,
It were enough to fright the realm of France.
Were but his picture left amongst 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.
Joan. I think this upstart is old Talbot's ghost,
He speaks with such a proud commanding
For God's sake, let him have 'em; to keep them here
SCENE 1.-London. The Palace.
Enter King HENRY, GLOUCESTER, and EXETER. K. Hen. Have you perus'd the letters from the pope,
The emperor, and the Earl of Armagnac ?
Glou. I have, my lord; and their intent is this:
They humbly sue unto your excellence
To have a godly peace concluded of
Between the realms of England and of France.
K. llen. How doth your grace affect their
Glou. 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.
Glou. 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
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 WINCHESTER in Cardinal's habit, a
Legate and two Ambassadors.
Ece. 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.'
K. Hen. My lords ambassadors, your several
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.
Glou. And for the proffer of my lord your master, I have inform'd 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 contract,
Bear her this jewel, pledge of my affection. And so, my lord protector, see them guarded And safely brought to Dover; where inship;'d Commit them to the fortune of the sea.
Exeunt King HENRY and Train; GLOUCESTER, EXETER, and Ambassadors. Win. Stay, 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.
SCENE II.-France. Plains in Anjou. Enter CHARLES, BURGUNDY, ALENÇON, JOAN LA PUCELLE, and Forces, marching.
Cha. These news, my lords, may cheer our drooping spirits:
'Tis said the stout Parisians do revolt
And turn again unto the war-like French.
Alen. Then march to Paris, royal Charles of
And keep not back your powers in dalliance.
Joan. Peace be amongst them if they turn to us;
Else, ruin combat with their palaces!
Enter a Scout.
Scout. Success unto our valiant general,
And happiness to his accomplices!
Cha. What tidings send our scouts? I prithee,
Scout. The English army, that divided was
Into two parties, is now conjoin'd in one,
And means to give you battle presently.
Cha. 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.
Joan. 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. Cha. Then on, my lords; and France be Exeunt. fortunate!
SCENE III.-The Same. Before Angiers.
Alarums. Excursions. Enter JOAN LA PUCELLE.
Joan. The regent conquers and the French-
Now help, ye charming spells and periapts ;
And ye choice spirits that admonish me
And give me signs of future accidents :
You speedy helpers, that are substitutes
Under the lordly monarch of the north,
Appear and aid me in this enterprise !
This speedy and quick appearance argues proof
Of your accustom'd diligence to me.
Now, ye familiar spirits, that are cull'd
Out of the powerful legions under earth,
Help me this once, that France may get the field.
They walk, 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.
My body shall
No hope to have redress?
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 all,
Before that England give the French the foil.
Now the time is come
See! they forsake me.
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.
Alarums. Enter French and English, fighting;
JOAN LA PUCELLE and YORK fight hand to
hand. JOAN LA PUCELLE is taken.
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. Joan. Chang'd to a worser shape thou canst not be.
York. O! Charles the Dauphin is a proper
And may ye both be suddenly surpris'd
By bloody hands, in sleeping on your beds!
York. Fell banning hag, enchantress, hold thy
Joan. I prithee, give me leave to curse awhile.
York. Curse, miscreant, when thou comest to
Alarums. Enter SUFFOLK, leading in Lady
Suf. 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.
I kiss these fingers for eternal peace,
And lay them gently on thy tender side.
Who art thou say, that I may honour thee. 50
Mar. Margaret my name, and daughter to a
The King of Naples, whosoe'er thou art.
Suf. 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 prisoner 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 mind.
Fie, de la Pole! disable not thyself;
Hast not a tongue? is she not here thy prisoner?
Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight?
Ay; beauty's princely majesty is such,
Confounds the tongue and makes the senses | And, madam, at your father's castle walls
We'll crave a parley, to confer with him.
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.
Suf. How canst thou tell she will deny thy suit,
Before thou make a trial of her love?
Mar. Why speak'st thou not? what ransom must I pay?
Suf. She's beautiful and therefore to be woo'd; She is a woman, therefore to be won.
Mar. Wilt thou accept of ransom, yea or no? Suf. Fond man! remember that thou hast a wife;
Then how can Margaret be thy paramour?
Mar. I were best to leave him, for he will not
Suf. There all is marr'd; there lies a cooling card.
Mar. He talks at random; sure, the man is mad.
Suf. And yet a dispensation may be had.
Mar. And yet I would that you would answer me.
Suf. I'll win this Lady Margaret. For whom?
Why, for my king: tush! that's a wooden thing.
Mar. He talks of wood: it is some carpenter.
Suf. 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 is he poor,
And our nobility will scorn the match.
Mar. Hear ye, captain? Are you not at leisure?
Suf. 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.
Suf. Lady, vouchsafe to listen what I say.
Mar. Perhaps I shall be rescu'd by the French;
And then I need not crave his courtesy.
Suf. Sweet madam, give me hearing in a
Mar. Tush! women have been captivate ere
Suf. Lady, wherefore talk you so?
Mar. I cry you mercy, 'tis but quid for quo.
Suf. 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.
And so shall you,
If happy England's royal king be free.
Mar. Why, what concerns his freedom unto me?
Suf. 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. I am unworthy to be Henry's wife.
Suf. 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?
Mar. An if my father please, I am content.
Suf. Then call our captains and our colours
I am a soldier, and unapt to weep
Or to exclaim on fortune's fickleness.
Suf. 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.
Reig. Speaks Suffolk as he thinks?
Fair Margaret knows
That Suffolk doth not flatter, face, or feign.
Reig. Upon thy princely warrant, I descend
To give thee answer of thy just demand.
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.
Suf. 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, 160
As deputy unto that gracious king,
Give thee her hand for sign of plighted faith.
Suf. Reignier of France, I give thee kingly
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.
Never yet taint with love, I send the king.
Suf. And this withal.
Mar. That for thyself: I will not so presume
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 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 may'st bereave him of his wits with
SCENE IV.-Camp of the Duke of YORK in
Enter YORK, WARWICK, and Others.
York. Bring forth that sorceress, condemn'd to burn.
Enter JOAN LA PUCELLE, guarded; and a
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.
Joan. 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
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
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,
Shep. Ah! Joan, this kills thy father's heart Although ye hale me to a violent death.
York. Now heaven forfend! the holy maid with child!
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 prithee, gentle Joan.
Joan. Peasant, avaunt! You have suborn'd
Of 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
Not me begotten of a shepherd swain,
But issu'd 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!
War. 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.
Joan. Will nothing turn your unrelenting
It was Alençon that enjoy'd my love.
York. Alençon! that notorious Machiavel: It dies an if it had a thousand lives.
War. The greatest miracle that e'erye 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.
War. Well, go to; we will have no bastards live;
Especially since Charles must father it.
Joan. You are deceiv'd; my child is none of his:
Joan. 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.
War. 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.
War. 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.
Joan. 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!
York. Break thou in pieces and consume to
Thou foul accursed minister of hell!
Had been a little ratsbane for thy sake!
Or else, when thou didst keep my lambs a-field,
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 lived too
Enter Cardinal BEAUFORT, attended.
Car. Lord regent, I do greet your excellence With letters of commission from the king.
To fill the world with vicious qualities.
Joan. First, let me tell you whom you have 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 10
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.
War. Be patient, York: if we conclude a peace, It shall be with such strict and severe covenants As little shall the Frenchmen gain thereby.
Only reserv'd, you claim no interest
In any of our towns of garrison.
York. Then swear allegiance to his majesty,
As thou art knight, never to disobey
Nor be rebellious to the crown of England,
Thou, nor thy nobles, to the crown of England.
So now dismiss your army when ye please;
Hang up your ensigns, let your drums be still,
For here we entertain a solemn peace. Exeunt.
Enter CHARLES, attended; ALENÇON, the Bastard of ORLEANS, REIGNIER, and Others.
Che. 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
The hollow passage of my poison'd voice,
By sight of these our baleful enemies.
Cha. '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
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.
Reig. 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.
Of beauteous Margaret hath astonish'd me:
Her virtues graced with external gifts
Do breed love's settled passions in my heart:
And like as rigour of tempestuous gusts
Provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide,
So am I driven by breath of her renown
Either to suffer shipwreck, or arrive
Where I may have fruition of her love.
Car. 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,
And 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.
Suf. Tush! my good lord, this superficial tale
Is but a preface of her worthy praise:
The chief perfections of that lovely dame,
Had I sufficient skill to utter them,
Would make a volume of enticing lines,
Able to ravish any dull conceit :
And, which is more, she is not so divine,
So full replete with choice of all delights,
Alen. Must he be then as shadow of himself? But with as humble lowliness of mind
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.
War. How say'st thou, Charles? shall our condition stand?
Cha. It shall;
Alen. To say the truth, it is your policy
To save your subjects from such massacre
And ruthless slaughters as are daily seen
By our proceeding in hostility;
And therefore take this compact of a truce,
Although you break it when your pleasure serves.
SCENE V.-London. The Palace.
Enter King HENRY, in conference with SUF FOLK; GLOUCESTER and EXETER following.
K. Hen. Your wondrous rare description, noble earl,
She is content to be at your command;
Command, I mean, of virtuous chaste intents,
To love and honour Henry as her lord.
K. Hen. And otherwise will Henry ne'er pre
Therefore, my lord protector, give consent
That Margaret may be England's royal queen.
Glou. So should I give consent to flatter sin. You know, my lord, your highness is betroth'd Unto another lady of esteem;
How shall we then dispense with that contract,
And not deface your honour with reproach?
Suf. As doth a ruler with unlawful oaths;
Or one that, at a triumph having vow'd
To try his strength, forsaketh yet the lists
By reason of his adversary's odds.
A poor earl's daughter is unequal odds,
And therefore may be broke without offence.
Glou. Why, what, I pray, is Margaret more
Her father is no better than an earl,
Although in glorious titles he excel.
Suf. Yes, my good lord, her father is a king,
The King of Naples and Jerusalem;
And of such great authority in France
As his alliance will confirm our peace,
And keep the Frenchmen in allegiance.
Glou. And so the Earl of Armagnac may do,
Because he is near kinsman unto Charles.
Exe. Beside, his wealth doth warrant a liberal
Where Reignier sooner will receive than give.