William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition

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1.2 Sound a flourish. Enter Charles the Dauphin, the Duke of Alençon, and René Duke of Anjou, marching with drummer and soldiers

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 Orléans

Otherwhiles the famished English, like pale ghosts,

Faintly besiege us one hour in a month.

ALENÇON

They want their porrage and their fat bull beeves.

Either they must be dieted like mules,

And have their provender tied to their mouths,

Or piteous they will look, like drowned mice.

RENÉ

Let’s raise the siege. Why live we idly here?

Talbot is taken, whom we wont to fear.

Remaineth none but mad-brained Salisbury,

And he may well in fretting spend his gall:

Nor men nor money hath he to make war.

CHARLES

Sound, sound, alarum! We will rush on them.

Now for the honour of the forlorn French,

Him I forgive my death that killeth me

When he sees me go back one foot or flee. Exeunt

1.3 Here alarum. The French are beaten back by the English with great loss. Enter Charles the Dauphin, the Duke of Alençon, and René Duke of Anjou

CHARLES

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.

RENÉ

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 Rolands bred

During the time Edward the Third did reign.

More truly now may this be verified,

For none but Samsons and Goliases

It sendeth forth to skirmish. One to ten?

Lean raw-boned rascals, who would e’er suppose

They had such courage and audacity?

CHARLES

Let’s leave this town, for they are hare-brained slaves,

And hunger will enforce them to be more eager.

Of old I know them: rather with their teeth

The walls they’ll tear down, than forsake the siege.

RENÉ

I think by some odd gimmers or device

Their arms are set, like clocks, still to strike on,

Else ne’er could they hold out so as they do.

By my consent we’ll even let them alone.

ALENÇON Be it SO.

Enter the Bastard of Orléans

BASTARD

Where’s the Prince Dauphin? I have news for him.

CHARLES

Bastard of Orléans, thrice welcome to us.

BASTARD

Methinks your looks are sad, your cheer appalled.

Hath the late overthrow wrought this offence?

Be not dismayed, 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.

CHARLES

Go call her in. Exit Bastard

But first, to try her skill,

René stand thou as Dauphin in my place.

Question her proudly; let thy looks be stern.

By this means shall we sound what skill she hath.

Enter ⌈the Bastard of Orléans with⌉ Joan la Pucelle, armed

RENÉ (as Charles)

Fair maid, is’t thou wilt do these wondrous feats?

JOAN

René, is’t thou that thinkest to beguile me?

Where is the Dauphin? (To Charles) Come, come from behind.

I know thee well, though never seen before.

Be not amazed. There’s nothing hid from me.

In private will I talk with thee apart.

Stand back you lords, and give us leave awhile.

René, Alençon ⌈and Bastard⌉ stand apart

RENÉ ⌈to Alençon and Bastard⌉

She takes upon her bravely, at first dash.

JOAN

Dauphin, I am by birth a shepherd’s daughter,

My wit untrained in any kind of art.

Heaven and our Lady gracious hath it pleased

To shine on my contemptible estate.

Lo, whilst I waited on my tender lambs,

And to sun’s parching heat displayed my cheeks,

God’s mother deigned to appear to me,

And in a vision, full of majesty,

Willed me to leave my base vocation

And free my country from calamity.

Her aid she promised, and assured success.

In complete glory she revealed herself—

And whereas I was black and swart before,

With those clear rays which she infused on me

That beauty am I blest with, which you may see.

Ask me what question thou canst possible,

And I will answer unpremeditated.

My courage try by combat, if thou dar’st,

And thou shalt find that I exceed my sex.

Resolve on this: thou shalt be fortunate,

If thou receive me for thy warlike mate.

CHARLES

Thou hast astonished me with thy high terms.

Only this proof I’ll of thy valour make:

In single combat thou shalt buckle with me.

An if thou vanquishest, thy words are true;

Otherwise, I renounce all confidence.

JOAN

I am prepared. Here is my keen-edged sword,

Decked with five flower-de-luces on each side—

The which at Touraine, in Saint Katherine’s churchyard,

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

CHARLES

Then come a God’s name. I fear no woman.

JOAN

And while I live, I’ll ne’er fly from a man.

Here they fight and Joan la Pucelle overcomes

CHARLES

Stay, stay thy hands! Thou art an Amazon,

And fightest with the sword of Deborah.

JOAN

Christ’s mother helps me, else I were too weak.

CHARLES

Whoe‘er helps thee, ’tis thou that must help me.

Impatiently I burn with thy desire.

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.

JOAN

I must not yield to any rites of love,

For my profession’s sacred from above.

When I have chased all thy foes from hence,

Then will I think upon a recompense.

CHARLES

Meantime, look gracious on thy prostrate thrall.

RENÉ ⌈to the other lords apart⌉

My lord, methinks, is very long in talk.

ALENÇON

Doubtless he shrives this woman to her smock,

Else ne’er could he so long protract his speech.

RENÉ

Shall we disturb him, since he keeps no mean?

ALENÇON

He may mean more than we poor men do know.

These women are shrewd tempters with their tongues.

RENÉ (to Charles)

My lord, where are you? What devise you on?

Shall we give o’er Orléans, or no?

JOAN

Why, no, I say. Distrustful recreants,

Fight till the last gasp; I’ll be your guard.

CHARLES

What she says, I’ll confirm. We’ll fight it out.

JOAN

Assigned am I to be the English scourge.

This night the siege assuredly I’ll raise.

Expect Saint Martin’s summer, halcyon’s days,

Since I have entered into these wars.

Glory is like a circle in the water,

Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself

Till, by broad spreading, it disperse to naught.

With Henry’s death, the English circle ends.

Dispersed are the glories it included.

Now am I like that proud insulting ship

Which Caesar and his fortune bore at once.

CHARLES

Was Mohammed inspired with a dove?

Thou with an eagle art inspired then.

Helen, the mother of great Constantine,

Nor yet Saint Philip’s daughters were like thee.

Bright star of Venus, fall’n down on the earth,

How may I reverently worship thee enough?

ALENÇON

Leave off delays, and let us raise the siege.

RENÉ

Woman, do what thou canst to save our honours.

Drive them from Orléans, and be immortalized.

CHARLES

Presently we’ll try. Come, let’s away about it.

No prophet will I trust, if she prove false. Exeunt

1.4 Enter the Duke of Gloucester, with his Servingmen in blue coats

GLOUCESTER

I am come to survey the Tower this day.

Since Henry’s death, I fear there is conveyance.

Where be these warders, that they wait not here?

⌈A Servingman⌉ knocketh on the gates

Open the gates: ’tis Gloucester that calls.

FIRST WARDER ⌈within the Tower⌉

Who’s there that knocketh so imperiously?

GLOUCESTER’S FIRST MAN

It is the noble Duke of Gloucester.

SECOND WARDER ⌈within the Tower⌉

Whoe’er he be, you may not be let in.

GLOUCESTER’S FIRST MAN

Villains, answer you so the Lord Protector?

FIRST WARDER ⌈within the Tower⌉

The Lord protect him, so we answer him.

We do no otherwise than we are willed.

GLOUCESTER

Who willèd you? Or whose will stands, but mine?

There’s none Protector of the realm but I.

(To Servingmen) Break up the gates. I’ll be your

warrantize.

Shall I be flouted thus by dunghill grooms?

Gloucester’s men rush at the Tower gates

WOODVILLE ⌈within the Tower⌉

What noise is this? What traitors have we here?

GLOUCESTER

Lieutenant, is it you whose voice I hear?

Open the gates! Here’s Gloucester, that would enter.

WOODVILLE ⌈within the Tower⌉

Have patience, noble duke: I may not open.

My lord of Winchester forbids.

From him I have express commandëment

That thou, nor none of thine, shall be let in.

GLOUCESTER

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.

SERVINGMEN

Open the gates unto the Lord Protector,

Or we’ll burst them open, if that you come not quickly.

Enter, to the Lord Protector at the Tower gates, the Bishop of Winchester and his men in tawny coats

WINCHESTER

How now, ambitious vizier! What means this?

GLOUCESTER

Peeled priest, dost thou command me to be shut out?

WINCHESTER

I do, thou most usurping proditor,

And not ‘Protector’, of the King or realm.

GLOUCESTER

Stand back, thou manifest conspirator.

Thou that contrived’st to murder our dead lord,

Thou that giv’st whores indulgences to sin,

If thou proceed in this thy insolence—

WINCHESTER

Nay, stand thou back! I will not budge a foot.

This be Damascus, be thou cursed Cain,

To slay thy brother Abel, if thou wilt.

GLOUCESTER

I will not slay thee, but I’ll drive thee back.

Thy purple robes, as a child’s bearing-cloth,

I’ll use to carry thee out of this place.

WINCHESTER

Do what thou dar’st, I beard thee to thy face.

GLOUCESTER

What, am I dared and bearded to my face?

Draw, men, for all this privileged place.

All draw their swords

Blue coats to tawny coats!—Priest, beware your

beard.

I mean to tug it, and to cuff you soundly.

Under my feet I’ll stamp thy bishop’s mitre.

In spite of Pope, or dignities of church,

Here by the cheeks I’ll drag thee up and down.

WINCHESTER

Gloucester, thou wilt answer this before the Pope.

GLOUCESTER

Winchester goose! I cry, ‘A rope, a rope!’

(To his Servingmen)

Now beat them hence. Why do you let them stay?

(To Winchester)

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

Out, tawny coats! Out, cloaked hypocrite!

Here Gloucester’s men beat out the Bishop’s men.

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.

GLOUCESTER

Peace, mayor, thou know’st little of my wrongs.

Here’s Beaufort—that regards nor God nor king-

Hath here distrained the Tower to his use.

WINCHESTER (to Mayor)

Here’s Gloucester—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.

GLOUCESTER

I will not answer thee with words but blows.

Here the factions skirmish again

MAYOR

Naught rests for me, in this tumultuous strife,

But to make open proclamation.

Come, officer, as loud as e’er thou canst, cry.

OFFICER All manner of men, assembled here in arms this day against God’s peace and the King’s, we charge and command you in his highness’ name to repair to your several dwelling places, and not to wear, handle, or use any sword, weapon, or dagger henceforward, upon pain of death.

The skirmishes cease

GLOUCESTER

Bishop, I’ll be no breaker of the law.

But we shall meet and break our minds at large.

WINCHESTER

Gloucester, we’ll meet to thy 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.

(Aside) This bishop is more haughty than the devil.

GLOUCESTER

Mayor, farewell. Thou dost but what thou mayst.

WINCHESTER

Abominable Gloucester, guard thy head,

For I intend to have it ere long.

Exeunt both factions severally

MAYOR (to Officers)

See the coast cleared, and then we will depart.—

Good God, these nobles should such stomachs bear!

I myself fight not once in forty year.

Exeunt

1.5 Enter the Master Gunner of Orleans with his Boy

MASTER GUNNER

Sirrah, thou know’st how Orléans is besieged,

And how the English have the suburbs won.

BOY

Father, I know, and oft have shot at them;

Howe’er, unfortunate, I missed my aim.

MASTER GUNNER

But now thou shalt not. Be thou ruled by me.

Chief Master Gunner am I of this town;

Something I must do to procure me grace.

The Prince’s spials have informed me

How the English, in the suburbs close entrenched,

Wont, through a secret grate of iron bars

In yonder tower, to overpeer the city,

And thence discover how with most advantage

They may vex us with shot or with assault.

To intercept this inconvenience,

A piece of ordnance ‘gainst it I have placed,

And even these three days have I watched, if I could

see them.

Now do thou watch, for I can stay no longer.

If thou spy’st any, run and bring me word,

And thou shalt find me at the governor’s.

BOY

Father, I warrant you, take you no care—

⌈Exit Master Gunner at one door⌉

I’ll never trouble you, if I may spy them.

Exit ⌈at the other door⌉

1.6 Enter the Earl of Salisbury and Lord Talbot above on the turrets with others, among them Sir Thomas Gargrave and Sir William Glasdale

SALISBURY

Talbot, my life, my joy, again returned?

How wert thou handled, being prisoner?

Or by what means got’st thou to be released?

Discourse, I prithee, on this turret’s top.

TALBOT

The Duke of Bedford had a prisoner,

Called the brave Lord Ponton de Santrailles;

For him was I exchanged and ransomed.

But with a baser man-of-arms by far

Once in contempt they would have bartered me—

Which I, disdaining, scorned, and craved death

Rather than I would be so pilled esteemed.

In fine, redeemed I was, as I desired.

But O, the treacherous Fastolf wounds my heart,

Whom with my bare fists I would execute

If I now had him brought into my power.

SALISBURY

Yet tell’st thou not how thou wert entertained.

TALBOT

With scoffs and scorns and contumelious taunts.

In open market place produced they me,

To be a public spectacle to all.

‘Here’, said they, ‘is the terror of the French,

The scarecrow that affrights our children so.’

Then broke I from the officers that led me

And with my nails digged stones out of the ground

To hurl at the beholders of my shame.

My grisly countenance made others fly.

None durst come near, for fear of sudden death.

In iron walls they deemed me not secure:

So great fear of my name ’mongst them were spread

That they supposed I could rend bars of steel

And spurn in pieces posts of adamant.

Wherefore a guard of chosen shot I had

That walked about me every minute while;

And if I did but stir out of my bed,

Ready they were to shoot me to the heart.

The Boy ⌈passes over the stage⌉ with a linstock

SALISBURY

I grieve to hear what torments you endured.

But we will be revenged sufficiently.

Now it is supper time in Orléans.

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 Glasdale,

Let me have your express opinions

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

⌈They look through the grate⌉

GARGRAVE

I think at the north gate, for there stands Lou.

GLASDALE

And I here, at the bulwark of the Bridge.

TALBOT

For aught I see, this city must be famished

Or with light skirmishes enfeebled.

Here they shoot off chambers ⌈within⌉ 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 crossed 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 contrived this woeful tragedy!

In thirteen battles Salisbury o’ercame;

Henry the Fifth he first trained 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.—

Sir Thomas Gargrave, hast thou any life?

Speak unto Talbot. Nay, look up to him.—

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

⌈Exit one with Gargrave’s body⌉

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 gathered head.

The Dauphin, with one Joan la Pucelle joined,

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 revenged.

Frenchmen, I’ll be a Salisbury to you.

Pucelle or pucelle, Dauphin or dog-fish,

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 carrying Salisbury

1.7 Here an alarum again, and Lord Talbot pursueth the Dauphin and driveth him. Then enter Joan la Pucelle driving Englishmen before her and ⌈exeunt⌉. Then enter Lord 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 men.

Enter Joan la Pucelle

Here, here she comes. (To Joan) 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.

JOAN

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

JOAN

Talbot, farewell. Thy hour is not yet come.

I must go victual Orléans forthwith.

A short alarum, then ⌈the French pass over the stage and⌉ 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 into the town

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 called us, for our fierceness, English dogs;

Now, like to whelps, we crying run away.

A short alarum. ⌈Enter English soldiers⌉

Hark, countrymen: either renew the fight

Or tear the lions out of England’s coat.

Renounce your style; 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-subduèd 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 entered into Orléans

In spite of us or aught that we could do.

⌈Exeunt Soldiers⌉

O would I were to die with Salisbury!

The shame hereof will make me hide my head.

Exit. Alarum. Retreat

1.8 Flourish. Enter on the walls Joan la Pucelle, Charles the Dauphin, René Duke of Anjou, the Duke of Alençon and French Soldiers ⌈with colours⌉

JOAN

Advance our waving colours on the walls;

Rescued is Orléans from the English.

Thus Joan la Pucelle hath performed her word.

CHARLES

Divinest creature, Astraea’s daughter,

How shall I honour thee for this success?

Thy promises are like Adonis’ garden,

That one day bloomed and fruitful were the next.

France, triumph in thy glorious prophetess!

Recovered is the town of Orléans.

More blessed hap did ne’er befall our state.