Henry V ends with the Chorus speaking an epilogue in sonnet form. It offers a forward look that somewhat deflates the triumph of Agincourt. King Henry, the “star of England,” will live but a small time. “The world’s best garden,” having been brought to order by his charismatic arts, will soon be choked with weeds. His son will be crowned King of France and England whilst still an infant. So many rivals then had the managing of his state “That they lost France and made his England bleed, / Which oft our stage hath shown.” Shakespeare thus reminds his audience that his cycle of history plays is complete: the sequence from Richard II to Henry V at this point joins on to the earlier written tetralogy of the three parts of Henry the Sixth and Richard III. Sometimes gathered together in modern productions under a title such as The Wars of the Roses or The Plantagenets, these plays tell the story of England’s self-scarring and “dire division.”
In The First Part of Henry the Sixth, Henry V’s miraculous conquest of France goes into reverse, despite the exploits of the noble Talbot; meanwhile civil war brews at home. In The Second Part, the war with France is brought to an end by the marriage of King Henry VI to Margaret of Anjou, but the weak king cannot prevent the rise of the Yorkist faction. At the beginning of The Third Part, the succession is surrendered to Richard Duke of York, but his ascendancy is halted on a Yorkshire battlefield, where Queen Margaret brings his life to an undignified end; his sons spend the rest of the play avenging him—and of those sons, it is Richard of Gloucester, the future Richard III, who proves most unscrupulous and therefore most to be feared.
The Romantic poet and Shakespearean commentator Samuel Taylor Coleridge did not think well of this bloody triple-header. He said of the opening lines of The First Part, “if you do not feel the impossibility of this speech having been written by Shakespeare, all I dare suggest is, that you may have ears—for so has another animal—but an ear you cannot have.” To his own finely tuned ear for poetry, the rhythm of the verse was crude and far inferior to that of even Shakespeare’s earliest plays. Coleridge was lecturing on Shakespeare only a few years after the publication of Edmond Malone’s scholarly Dissertation on the Three Parts of King Henry VI, tending to show that these plays were not written originally by Shakespeare. Ever since Shakespeare rose in the course of the eighteenth century to his status as supreme cultural icon, there has been a tendency to assume that any less-than-perfect work—Titus Andronicus, say, or Pericles—must have been the product of some lesser dramatist, or at the very least that Shakespeare was merely patching up a rickety old play for which he was not originally responsible. In the case of the Henry the Sixth plays, support for the latter possibility seemed to come from the existence of early editions of versions of the second and third parts under the titles The First Part of the Contention of the two Famous Houses of York and Lancaster with the Death of the Good Duke Humphrey (published in 1594) and The True Tragedy of Richard Duke of York and the Death of Good King Henry the Sixth, with the Whole Contention between the two houses Lancaster and York (1595). Malone and his successors argued that these were the originals, written by another dramatist (probably one of the so-called university wits, Robert Greene or George Peele), and that Shakespeare merely undertook the work of a reviser. As for The First Part of Henry the Sixth, Malone regarded it as almost holly un-Shakespearean. Though grounded in textual scholarship, his arguments were driven by critical distaste for the plays’ style of verse, the “stately march” whereby “the sense concludes or pauses uniformly at the end of every line.”
More recently, scholars have suggested that The First Part of the Contention and Richard Duke of York are in fact texts of works by Shakespeare, albeit poorly transcribed ones. The titles The First Part and The Whole Contention strongly suggest that the plays that we now call The Second Part and The Third Part of Henry the Sixth originally constituted a two-part work. They were probably first produced in the early 1590s, when Christopher Marlowe’s mighty Tamburlaine the Great had established a vogue for two-part plays filled with battles, processions, and high-sounding verse.
What we now call The First Part of Henry the Sixth would then stand slightly apart. Since it appears to have been premiered—to considerable acclaim—in 1592, it was probably written after the two Wars of the Roses plays that are now called the second and third parts. Perhaps it was what in modern film parlance is called a “prequel,” designed to cash in on the success of a blockbuster. Its lack of unity and its use of different source materials for different scenes suggest that it may have been a collaborative work. Thomas Nashe, who also wrote in partnership with Marlowe, has been suggested as a prime contributor, but there may have been three or even four hands in the composition. The possibility that Shakespeare was not the principal author of the Talbot/Joan of Arc play would account for some of the inconsistencies in the sequence considered as a trilogy. Among these is the fact that in The Second Part Humphrey Duke of Gloucester is a statesmanlike figure, a Lord Protector worthy of his late brother Henry V, whereas in The First Part he is more rough-hewn, and the plot discrepancy whereby the surrender of Anjou and Maine, a condition of the marriage between King Henry VI and Margaret of Anjou, is much resented in The Second Part yet not challenged in the marriage negotiations in The First Part.
There is a long tradition of attempting to establish literary authorship by stylistic tests—preference for feminine endings in verse lines, contractions (them versus ’em), frequency of grammatical function words, and so forth. The availability of large-scale databases of texts and computer programs to crunch them means that such tests are becoming ever more sophisticated and reliable. When several different tests give the same result, one can speak tentatively of the evidence attaining scientific standards of probability. Twenty-first-century stylometric research of this kind suggests that nearly all of The Second Part can be confidently attributed to Shakespeare, that there are some doubts about The Third Part and that Shakespeare probably wrote only a few scenes of The First Part. Perhaps the only thing that makes one hesitate about these results is that they seem too convenient, in that they so neatly mirror the consensus about the relative dramatic quality of the three plays: The Second Part has gloriously Shakespearean energy and variety, and it nearly always works superbly in the theater; The Third Part has some immensely powerful rhetorical encounters but many longueurs; The First Part is generally the least admired—save for the rose-plucking scene in the second act and the moving dialogue of Talbot and his son in the fourth-act battle, the very sequences that the computer tests ascribe to Shakespeare.
It cannot be determined whether the traces of non-Shakespearean language are the vestiges of older plays that Shakespeare was revising or whether they are signs of active collaboration. Nor do we know whether the plays were ever staged as a trilogy in Shakespeare’s lifetime. They only came to be labeled as such in the posthumously published 1623 Folio, where all his histories were collected and ordered by the chronology of their subject matter as opposed to their composition. Since the charismatic villain Richard of Gloucester appears in The Second Part and The Third Part, it becomes very tempting to think of the whole group as a tetralogy capped by The Tragedy of Richard the Third. Perhaps the best approach is to try to treat each of the plays both on its own terms—they were, after all, designed to be performed one at a time—and as part of Shakespeare’s unfolding panorama of English history.
Richard III, probably first staged between 1592 and 1594, does seem to represent a quantum leap in Shakespeare’s dramatic art. Whilst Crookback Richard has been a role that has made the names of great actors from David Garrick in the eighteenth century to Edmund Kean in the nineteenth to Antony Sher in the twentieth, the Henry the Sixth plays have not fared well on the English (or any other) stage. The second and third parts were given a few outings in a heavily adapted and compressed form between the Restoration and Regency periods, but almost three hundred years elapsed before there was a full-scale revival of the entire sequence, and even the twentieth century, which restored to favor such previously unpopular early Shakespearean plays as Love’s Labour’s Lost and Titus Andronicus, only saw some half-dozen major productions: those of F. R. Benson at the beginning of the century, Sir Barry Jackson shortly after World War II, John Barton and Peter Hall (rewritten and compressed into two plays under the title The Wars of the Roses) at Stratford-upon-Avon in the early 1960s, Terry Hands and Adrian Noble in succeeding decades at Stratford (the latter reducing the tetralogy to a trilogy entitled The Plantagenets), and Michael Bogdanov as part of a brave attempt to stage all of the history plays in modern dress, with a strong anti-Thatcherite political agenda, for the touring English Shakespeare Company in the 1980s.
The early-twenty-first century, however, witnessed a reversal of fortune: Michael Boyd directed a much-admired version with full texts under the title This England in the intimate space of the Swan theater in Stratford-upon-Avon, then on becoming artistic director of the Royal Shakespeare Company revived his productions on a larger stage. Edward Hall, meanwhile, followed his father, Peter, in reducing three to two, with an energetic version set in a slaughterhouse and entitled Rose Rage. In a new millennium, at a time of renewed religious war and deep uncertainty about the meaning of nation and national identity, Shakespeare’s exploration of the foundations of the fractured Tudor polity seemed powerfully prescient.
The Henry the Sixth plays reveal Shakespeare learning his art with great rapidity. Poetic styles and stage business are snapped up from the university men, source material from the prose chronicles of English history. Edward Hall’s Union of the Two Noble and Illustrious Families of Lancaster and York (1548) is compressed in such a way as to give a pattern to the march of history. The action is concerned less with individual characters than with the roles that individuals play in the drama of the nation’s destiny. Shakespeare is quite willing to change someone’s age or even their nature in order to subordinate them to his overall scheme. The demonization of Richard of Gloucester is only the most striking example. Whereas we associate the mature Shakespeare with contemplation—King Harry or Prince Hamlet in troubled soliloquy—the driving force of these early plays is action. The First Part deploys a set of variations on an underlying structure in which dramatic action precedes explanation, then a scene will end with epigrammatic recapitulation; each scene is presented in such a way that a different character’s viewpoint is emphasized or a new aspect of an existing character developed. The scene with Talbot in the Countess of Auvergne’s castle, for instance, highlights the courtesy and prudence of a man who has previously been seen as the exemplar of heroic courage. It also provides a contrast against which the later confrontation of Suffolk and Margaret can be measured: Talbot is a relic from the days of Henry V and England’s conquest of France, while Suffolk is a harbinger of division and the Wars of the Roses.
In The Second Part, Shakespeare used a structural pattern to which he returned in later tragedies such as King Lear and Timon of Athens: the hero, Duke Humphrey of Gloucester, is progressively isolated as prominence is given to the legalistic conspiracies of his malicious enemies. But since the subject is the nation, not an individual hero, Humphrey is dispatched in the third act, and the remainder of the play turns to the subject of rebellion (Jack Cade’s proletarian rising in Act 4) and attempted usurpation (the altogether more dangerous Duke of York’s march on London). The Third Part begins in chaos, with each of the first two acts ending in a battle (at Wakefield, then Towton), then proceeds in an uneasy equilibrium that sees two kings alive simultaneously and their respective claims only resolved after a bewildering series of encounters, parleys and changes of allegiance.
Balanced scene structure is paralleled by formal rhetorical style. The formality of the world of these plays is also apparent from the use of dramatic tableaux. The civil strife of the Wars of the Roses could have no better epitome than the paired entrances in Act 2 Scene 5 of The Third Part, where a son that has killed his father appears at one stage door and a moment later a father that has killed his son emerges through the other. Their entry rudely interrupts King Henry’s meditation on how he only wants a quiet life, how he’d rather be a shepherd than a king. The aspirations of the weak but pious king are formally visualized in the stage direction for his next entry, in Act 3 Scene 1: “Enter King Henry, disguised, carrying a prayer-book.” Only in retreat and disguise can he fulfill his desire to be a holy man. And even then his peace lasts only an instant, for two gamekeepers overhear and apprehend him, taking him to captivity in the hands of usurping King Edward. By contrast, when Richard of Gloucester becomes King Richard in the next play, a prayer-book is itself a form of disguise.
The unifying theme that makes the plays work as a trilogy, whatever the circumstances of their origin, is the pitching of two world-pictures against each other. Opposites cannot coexist in harmony, so chaos ensues. In The First Part the opposition takes the form of French against English, Joan against Talbot, magical thinking against rationality, female against male, and implicitly Catholic against Protestant. The historical Talbot was a Catholic, but to an audience in the early 1590s, his plain-speaking Englishness and his heroic deeds on the continental mainland would inevitably have evoked the knightly warriors such as Sir Philip Sidney who fought with Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, in the religious wars of the 1580s in the Spanish Netherlands. Joan, meanwhile, is a figure familiar from anti-Catholic propaganda: a virgin branded whore (“pucelle” means “maiden” but “puzzel” connotes prostitute), a saint and martyr converted into a conjuror of devils, a figure linked to Papist veneration of the Virgin Mary by way of the suggestion of miraculous pregnancy.
The dialectic of The Second Part pits honest old Duke Humphrey of Gloucester and pious young King Henry VI against the scheming Plantagenets. Richard Duke of York’s brain, “more busy than the labouring spider,” “weaves tedious snares to trap” his enemies; his son Richard, future Duke of Gloucester and eventual Richard III, will develop both this kind of language and his father’s strategizing to chilling effect. As various characters shift allegiance between the houses of York and Lancaster, so audience sympathies shift as the fast-moving action unfolds: the power-hungry York of The Second Part becomes a figure of pathos when he is forced to wear a paper crown in the final moments before he is stabbed to death in The Third Part.
Shakespeare does not reveal his own allegiances, but he knows the direction in which history is moving. A key incident in this regard is the fake miracle of Simpcox in The Second Part: King Henry is taken in, a mark of his naive faith, whereas Humphrey of Gloucester adopts the sceptical, interrogative voice of a witchfinder—for which the contemporary equivalent would have been a seeker after closet Catholics. Revealingly, the source for this scene was not the pro-Tudor chronicle of Edward Hall but the anti-Catholic martyrology of John Foxe. Other “medieval,” and thus implicitly Catholic, elements are also subverted: the Duchess of Gloucester’s reliance on conjuration and the trial by combat between the armorer Horner and his man Peter both backfire.
Protestantism, with its rejection of the hierarchies of saints and cardinals, its commitment to the Bible in the language of the people, was associated with a democratization of religious faith. The Second Part is the element of the trilogy that toys with the popular voice (hence its significant proportion of prose writing, which is entirely absent from the first and third parts), but it cannot be said to endorse a modern notion of democracy. Jack Cade is a highly attractive figure on stage because he speaks in the same language as the commoners in the audience; his clowning offers welcome respite from the high rhetoric and low cunning of the aristocrats, and such lines as “the first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers” elicit an approving laugh in every age. But Shakespeare, who made his living by the literacy that his father lacked, can hardly be said to approve of a character who orders the hanging of a village clerk for the crime of being able to read and write. And Cade’s vision of England is self-contradictory to the core:
This is a double-edged “reformation”: cheap bread, unwatered ale and the land held in common sound Utopian, but Cade does not really want representative government. He wants to be king himself. Shakespeare plays the same trick against the “commonwealth” idealism of the courtier Gonzalo twenty years later in The Tempest: “No sovereignty— / Yet he would be king on’t.” If Shakespeare has an Eden, it is not a place anterior to class distinction on the lines of the old rhyme “When Adam delved and Eve span / Who was then the gentleman?” but rather an English gentleman’s country estate, a place of peace and retreat where Cade is an intruder: the Kentish garden of Alexander Iden.
There is a primal quality to the three plays of Henry the Sixth. The basis of drama is agon, the Greek word for “struggle” or “contest.” According to Aristotle, the origin of tragedy was the moment when an actor split off from a chorus and began to enter into dialogue with them. Later came a second actor and a further opportunity for confrontation—the term for the first actor was “protagonist” and the second “deuteragonist.” Conversation in the theater of historical tragedy is always a form of agon, which rapidly escalates into emotional intensity (agony) and thence to physical violence. Shakespeare, with his highly self-conscious theatrical art, is always acutely aware of the several agons that coexist in the theater: between the actor and his role (the struggle to master a part), between the players and the audience (the struggle to grab attention, to move a crowd of onlookers to woe and wonder), within each individual character (the play of conflicting desires and duties), as well as between the characters in their dialogue and stage disposition.
War is the logical culmination of an agonistic world: it is the beginning and end of the three parts of Henry the Sixth. The process of escalation is such that The Third Part in particular portrays the complete breakdown of society. The play has the harrowing, relentless quality of Greek tragedy, where people live and die according to a code of revenge, the sins of the fathers are visited upon the children, and the language moves between rhetorical, proto-operatic arias of anger, anguish, invective, and rapid-fire one-line exchanges in which the brutal conflicts between Lancastrians and Yorkists, men and women, old and young, self-servers and seekers after justice, winners and losers, are stripped to their essentials. In this world, words are weapons, but just occasionally they are harbingers of hope, as when King Henry VI lays his hands on young Henry Richmond’s head and says:
Come hither, England’s hope. If secret powers
Suggest but truth to my divining thoughts,
This pretty lad will prove our country’s bliss.
His looks are full of peaceful majesty,
His head by nature framed to wear a crown,
His hand to wield a sceptre, and himself
Likely in time to bless a regal throne.
Make much of him, my lords, for this is he
Must help you more than you are hurt by me.
This anointing looks forward to the establishment of the Tudor dynasty when Richmond becomes Henry VII, Queen Elizabeth’s grandfather. But, as always seems to happen at moments of apparent stasis in these plays, a messenger then rushes on with the news that the rival king, Edward, has escaped. The violence continues apace. And before the final victory of Richmond at Bosworth Field, England must endure the darkness and blood of Crookback Richard’s reign, to which Shakespeare will turn his attention in his next tragedy.
AUTHORSHIP: Shakespeare clearly wrote at least some of the play, as witnessed by its inclusion in the Folio, but of the three Henry the Sixth plays this is the one that is most likely to be collaborative. A wide range of stylometric tests raise very severe doubts over the likelihood of sole Shakespearean authorship. Modern scholarship favors Thomas Nashe (who praised the Talbot scenes in a pamphlet of 1592) as the likeliest collaborator, but one or two other authorial hands may also be present. Robert Greene, Christopher Marlowe, George Peele and whichever dramatist wrote the chronicle play of Locrine have all been suggested. The scenes most likely to be Shakespeare’s are 2.4 (the roses in the Temple garden) and 4.2–4.7.32 (the battle scenes dominated by Talbot).
PLOT: Following the death of his father, Henry V, the young Henry VI is proclaimed king under the protectorship of his uncles, the Dukes of Gloucester and Exeter. There is conflict between Gloucester and his long-term rival, the Bishop of Winchester, and their respective supporters. Richard Plantagenet, having established a claim to the throne through the Mortimer line of his family, declares his animosity toward the Duke of Somerset. Each adopts a rose as an emblem for his faction: white for York, red for Lancaster. Charles the Dauphin, fortified by his alliance with the mysterious maid Joan la Pucelle (Joan of Arc), dominates the battles in France. The Duke of Bedford, Henry’s uncle, is killed. The English captain Talbot—a legendary warrior, much feared by the French—is also killed. His death occurs as a direct result of the continuing enmity between York and Somerset, both of whom failed to supply reinforcements to the English troops. Fortunes turn and Joan is captured and burned. An uneasy peace is concluded between England and France. In light of this, Gloucester engineers a politically astute marriage between Henry and the Earl of Armagnac’s daughter. Meanwhile, in France, Suffolk is enchanted by Margaret, the daughter of the Duke of Anjou. Suffolk woos Margaret to be Henry’s queen and in order to gain her father’s consent cedes the newly conquered French territories of Anjou and Maine. Suffolk returns to England and persuades Henry, against opposition from the court, to marry Margaret and make her Queen of England.
MAJOR PARTS: (with percentage of lines/number of speeches/scenes on stage) Talbot (15%/59/12), Joan la Pucelle (9%/46/10), Richard Plantagenet, later Duke of York (7%/56/7), Duke of Gloucester (7%/48/7), King Henry VI (7%/29/5), Earl of Suffolk (6%/41/3), Charles, King of France (5%/41/8), Winchester (4%/27/6), Edmund Mortimer (3%/9/1), Sir William Lucy (3%/14/3), Duke of Bedford (3%/19/4), Earl of Warwick (3%/24/4), Duke of Somerset (2%/ 27/4), Duke of Exeter (2%/11/5), Reignier (2%/24/6), Duke of Alençon (2%/18/7), John Talbot (2%/11/2), Countess of Auvergne (2%/13/1), Duke of Burgundy (2%/17/6).
LINGUISTIC MEDIUM: 100% verse.
DATE: 1592. Generally assumed to be the “harey the vi” performed at the Rose Theatre in March 1592 (marked as “ne”—new?—by proprietor Philip Henslowe). Nashe’s pamphlet Pierce Penniless (registered for publication August 1592) refers to the Talbot scenes inspiring “the tears of ten thousand spectators.”
SOURCES: Different chronicle sources seem to have been used, perhaps by the play’s different authors. So, for example, Edward Hall’s The Union of the Two Noble and Illustre Famelies of Lancastre and Yorke (1548) is the main source for the civil contention in England, whereas the account of Joan of Arc draws on Holinshed’s Chronicles (1587 edition). Strikingly, the scenes most likely to be Shakespeare’s—the Temple garden and Talbot with his son—seem to be pure dramatic invention, with no source in the chronicles.
TEXT: 1623 Folio is the only text. There is dispute over whether it was set from (multi-?) authorial holograph or scribal copy, and the extent to which it was influenced by the playhouse bookkeeper. Some textual inconsistencies (e.g., whether Winchester is a bishop or a cardinal) may have been the result of different authors making different assumptions. The Folio editors introduced act and scene divisions that are perhaps more literary than theatrical.
TRILOGY?: Modern scholarship leans to the view that the plays the Folio calls the second and third parts of Henry the Sixth were originally a two-part “Wars of the Roses” drama (The First Part of the Contention and The True Tragedy of Richard Duke of York) and that this play was a (collaborative) “prequel,” written later to cash in on their success. This argument supposes that the three plays only became a “trilogy” when they were renamed and ordered by historical sequence in the 1623 Folio. Some scholars, however, adhere to the minority view that all three parts were written in sequence as a trilogy.
GENEALOGY: See this page.
AUTHORSHIP: Inclusion in the Folio is a presumption in favor of Shakespeare’s authorship, but stylometric tests raise some doubts about his sole authorship. Peele, Greene and Nashe have been suggested as possible contributors. There is no scholarly consensus on the question, which is closely related to the problem of the nature of the Quarto text (see below), but of the three Henry the Sixth plays this is the one with the strongest probability of near-exclusive Shakespearean authorship.
PLOT: Despite the recently concluded peace between England and France, dissension is rife within the English court. Suffolk’s influence, both at court and with the new Queen Margaret, intensifies. The fractious English nobles unite in their common aim to get rid of the Duke of Gloucester. His wife, Eleanor, the Duchess of Gloucester, aspires to the crown and is lured by a priest, John Hume, who is in the pay of Suffolk, to consult a witch about her ambitions. She is brought to trial and banished. Gloucester resigns his staff of office, allowing Henry to become king in his own right. Somerset returns from France with the news of the loss of all English territories. York and others seize this opportunity to implicate Gloucester in the loss of France and to accuse him of treason. Suffolk, Margaret, Winchester and York agree that Gloucester should be murdered. Meanwhile, there is a rebellion in Ireland and York is sent by Suffolk to deal with the crisis. York incites Jack Cade, a clothier posing as Mortimer, to promote further dissension by rebelling in Kent. Gloucester is murdered and the king turns against Suffolk, who is subsequently banished and murdered. Cardinal Beaufort (Winchester) outlives his old enemy by only a few hours. Cade’s rebellion is finally quashed but York returns to claim the crown, supported by his sons, Edward, Richard and George, and by Salisbury and Warwick. The two sides take up arms, Henry supported by Margaret, Somerset, Buckingham and the Cliffords. For the first time, Lancastrians face Yorkists at the battle of St Albans. The play ends with the king and queen in flight and the Yorkists contemplating the crown.
MAJOR PARTS: (with percentage of lines/number of speeches/scenes on stage) Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York (12%/58/9), King Henry VI (10%/82/11), Duke of Gloucester (10%/69/7), Duke of Suffolk (10%/67/7), Queen Margaret (10%/61/9), Jack Cade (8%/61/6), Earl of Warwick (4%/32/8), Cardinal Beaufort (4%/31/6), Eleanor (4%/21/5), Earl of Salisbury (3%/17/8), Duke of Buckingham (2%/24/9), Lord Clifford (2%/17/4), Captain (2%/ 11/1), Lord Say (2%/13/2), Alexander Iden (2%/9/2), Young Clifford (2%/4/2), Dick (1%/24/4).
LINGUISTIC MEDIUM: 85% verse, 15% prose.
DATE: 1591? Unquestionably precedes the play now known as The Third Part, a line of which was parodied in a pamphlet entered for publication in September 1592. Almost certainly played as a two-parter with the following play by Pembroke’s Men, who were active in 1592. The possibility of an earlier pre-Shakespearean version and a later Shakespearean revision cannot be ruled out.
SOURCES: The main historical source seems to have been either Edward Hall’s The Union of the Two Noble and Illustre Famelies of Lancastre and Yorke (1548) or Richard Grafton’s abridged and very slightly altered version thereof (1569); Holinshed’s Chronicles also seems to have been used, but there are fewer signs of its influence than in any of the other English histories. The false miracle of Simpcox was added by Grafton to Hall, but Shakespeare almost certainly read it in John Foxe’s hugely influential protestant martyrology Actes and Monuments (perhaps read in the enlarged edition of 1583).
TEXT: A short version was published in Quarto form in 1594, entitled The First Part of the Contention betwixt the two famous Houses of Yorke and Lancaster, with the death of the good Duke Humphrey: And the banishment and death of the Duke of Suffolke, and the Tragicall end of the proud Cardinall of Winchester, with the notable Rebellion of lacke Cade: And the Duke of Yorkes first claime vnto the Crowne, reprinted 1600 and, with attribution to Shakespeare and title combined with that of the following play, 1619 (The Whole Contention betweene the two Famous Houses, Lancaster and Yorke). The Quarto text is a reconstruction of a playing version, but there is much dispute over whether it is a short and often poorly remembered version of the play that is preserved in full in the Folio or the text of an early version (not by Shakespeare? partly by Shakespeare?) that Shakespeare then revised into the play that was printed in the Folio. It is equally unclear whether the possible linguistic signs of a non-Shakespearean hand (or hands) in the Folio text are vestiges of an older version or the result of active collaboration/coauthorship. We use the Folio text, which has the authority of Hemings and Condell; it is usually thought to represent a fairly close approximation of Shakespeare’s manuscript, though the Third Quarto sometimes seems to have been consulted. The Quarto remains valuable for certain details of staging and the more significant of its variations are recorded in the textual notes.
GENEALOGY: See this page.
AUTHORSHIP: Inclusion in the Folio and Chettle/Greene’s “upstart crow” jibe (see “Date,” below) are presumptions in favor of Shakespeare’s authorship, but stylometric tests raise grave doubts about his sole authorship. Peele, Greene and Nashe have been suggested as possible contributors. There is no scholarly consensus on the question, which is closely related to the problem of the nature of the Octavo text (see below).
PLOT: Having won the battle of St. Albans and with Richard Plantagenet sitting on the throne of England, the Yorkists confront the Lancastrians. King Henry, to his wife’s dismay, agrees to York’s demand that he disinherit his son, Edward, Prince of Wales. Margaret vows to destroy York and his followers. She enlists the support of Clifford and others to raise an army. Margaret’s forces meet with those of York in battle, during which York’s youngest son, Rutland, is killed by Clifford. York is then captured by Clifford and Northumberland, taunted with details of Rutland’s death and brutally murdered. Edward and Richard are informed of their father’s murder and unite with Warwick, who proclaims Edward the new Duke of York. They raise an army and defeat the Lancastrians at Towton. Henry, Margaret and their son are forced to flee north; Clifford is killed. Henry is captured and brought to London, where he is placed in the Tower by the new King Edward. In France, Margaret and Warwick meet at the court of King Lewis. News reaches them that Edward has married Lady Elizabeth Grey, in spite of his earlier betrothal, instigated by Warwick, to King Lewis’ sister, Lady Bona. This insult turns both Warwick and Lewis against Edward. Warwick pledges support to Margaret, releasing Henry from the Tower and reinstating him as King of England. Warwick leaves London to muster his army, during which time Edward returns and recaptures Henry. The forces of Edward and Warwick meet at Barnet, where Warwick is killed. Margaret arrives in England with reinforcements. Her forces encounter Edward’s for the last time at Tewkesbury, where, after much bloodshed, the Wars of the Roses seem finally to be over.
MAJOR PARTS: (with percentage of lines/number of speeches/scenes on stage) Edward, Earl of March/King Edward IV (15%/132/18), Earl of Warwick (15%/99/12), Richard/Duke of Gloucester (14%/108/17), King Henry VI (12%/71/7), Queen Margaret (10%/53/7), Richard, Duke of York (6%/37/3), Lord Clifford (5%/35/6), George/Duke of Clarence (4%/39/12), Lady Elizabeth Grey/Queen Elizabeth (3%/31/4), King Lewis XI (2%/21/1), Edward, Prince of Wales (2%/16/6).
LINGUISTIC MEDIUM: 100% verse.
DATE: 1591? York’s line “O, tiger’s heart wrapt in a woman’s hide!” is parodied in Greene’s Groatsworth of Wit (a pamphlet prepared for the press—entered for publication September 1592—by Henry Chettle, perhaps based in part on the papers of the late dramatist Robert Greene), where Shakespeare is described as an “upstart crow, beautified with our feathers, that with his Tiger’s heart wrapped in a player’s hide, supposes he is as well able to bombast out a blank verse as the best of you.” Pembroke’s Men, who played the Octavo version, were active in 1592. The possibility of an earlier pre-Shakespearean version and a later Shakespearean revision cannot be ruled out.
SOURCES: Based primarily on Edward Hall, The Union of the Two Noble and Illustre Famelies of Lancastre and Yorke (1548) and the second (1587) edition of Holinshed’s Chronicles. In some details, the Octavo text seems to follow Hall and the Folio Holinshed, which may support the theory of revision (see below).
TEXT: A short version was published in Octavo form in 1595, entitled The true Tragedie of Richard Duke of Yorke, and the death of good King Henrie the Sixt, with the whole contention betweene the two Houses Lancaster and Yorke, as it was sundrie times acted by the Right Honourable the Earle of Pembrooke his seruants, reprinted in Quarto in 1600 and, with attribution to Shakespeare and title combined with that of the previous play, 1619 (The Whole Contention betweene the two Famous Houses, Lancaster and Yorke). The Octavo text is a reconstruction of a playing version, but there is much dispute over whether it is a short and often poorly remembered version of the play that is preserved in full in the Folio or the text of an early version (not by Shakespeare? partly by Shakespeare?) that Shakespeare then revised into the play that was printed in the Folio. It is equally unclear whether the linguistic signs of a non-Shakespearean hand (or hands) in the Folio text are vestiges of an older version or the result of active collaboration/coauthorship. We use the Folio text, which has the authority of Hemings and Condell, though the nature of the copy from which it was set is disputed. The Octavo remains valuable for certain details of staging.
GENEALOGY: See this page.
The English side
KING HENRY VI, probably a boy player
Duke of BEDFORD, Regent of France
Duke of GLOUCESTER, Lord Protector, brother of the late Henry V, uncle of the king
Duke of EXETER, uncle of the late Henry V, great-uncle of the king
Bishop of WINCHESTER, later a Cardinal, Exeter’s younger brother, family name Beaufort
Duke of SOMERSET, Exeter’s nephew
RICHARD PLANTAGENET, later DUKE OF YORK and Regent of France
Earl of WARWICK
Earl of SALISBURY
Earl of SUFFOLK, William de la Pole
Lord TALBOT, later Earl of Shrewsbury
JOHN Talbot, his son
Edmund MORTIMER, Earl of March
Sir Thomas GARGRAVE
Sir William GLASDALE
Sir John FALSTAFF (historically Fastolf, not the same character as in Henry IV and The Merry Wives of Windsor)
Sir William LUCY
WOODVILLE, Lieutenant of the Tower of London
MAYOR of London
OFFICER to the Mayor of London
VERNON
BASSET
A LAWYER
A Papal LEGATE
JAILERS
English CAPTAIN
FIRST SERVINGMAN
FIRST MESSENGER
SECOND MESSENGER
THIRD MESSENGER
FIRST WARDER
SECOND WARDER
The French side
CHARLES the Dauphin, later King of France
REIGNIER, Duke of Anjou, King of Naples
MARGARET, his daughter
Duke of ALENÇON
BASTARD of Orléans
Duke of BURGUNDY
French GENERAL
Joan la PUCELLE, also called Joan of Arc
SHEPHERD, father of Joan
MASTER GUNNER of Orleans
Master Gunner’s BOY, his son
COUNTESS of Auvergne
Her PORTER
French SERGEANT
FIRST SENTINEL
WATCH
FIRST SOLDIER
French SCOUT
Soldiers, Attendants, Ambassadors, the Governor of Paris, French herald, Servingmen, Messengers, Sentinels, Captains, Fiends, Trumpeters
Dead march. Enter the funeral of King Henry the Fifth, attended on by the Duke of Bedford, Regent of France; the Duke of Gloucester, Protector; the Duke of Exeter, [the Earl of] Warwick, the Bishop of Winchester, and the Duke of Somerset, [and Heralds]
Comets,2 importing change of times and states,
Brandish3 your crystal tresses in the sky,
And with them scourge4 the bad revolting stars
5 That have consented unto5 Henry’s death:
King Henry the Fifth, too6 famous to live long:
England ne’er lost a king of so much worth.
Virtue9 he had, deserving to command:
10 His10 brandished sword did blind men with his beams:
His arms spread wider than a dragon’s wings:
His sparkling eyes, replete with12 wrathful fire,
More dazzlèd and drove back his enemies
Than midday sun, fierce bent against their faces.
15 What15 should I say? His deeds exceed all speech:
He16 ne’er lift up his hand but conquerèd.
Henry is dead and never shall revive:18
Upon a wooden19 coffin we attend,
20 And death’s dishonourable victory
We with our stately presence glorify,
Like captives bound to a triumphant car.22
What, shall we curse the planets of mishap,23
That plotted24 thus our glory’s overthrow?
25 Or shall we think the subtle-witted25 French
Conjurers and sorcerers, that, afraid of him,
By magic verses27 have contrived his end?
Unto the French the dreadful judgement day
30 So dreadful30 will not be as was his sight.
The battles of the Lord of hosts31 he fought:
The church’s prayers made him so prosperous.32
His thread of life34 had not so soon decayed.
35 None do you like but an effeminate prince,35
Whom like a schoolboy you may overawe.36
And lookest38 to command the Prince and realm.
Thy wife is proud: she holdeth thee in awe,
40 More than God or religious churchmen may.
And ne’er throughout the year to church thou go’st
Except it be to pray against thy foes.
45 Let’s to the altar: heralds, wait on us:
[Exeunt funeral procession]
Instead of gold, we’ll offer up our arms:
Since arms avail not47 now that Henry’s dead:
Posterity, await for48 wretched years,
When, at49 their mothers’ moistened eyes, babes shall suck,
50 Our isle be made a nourish50 of salt tears,
And none but women left to wail the dead.
Henry the Fifth, thy ghost I invocate:52
Prosper this realm, keep it from civil broils,53
Combat with adverse planets54 in the heavens:
55 A far more glorious star55 thy soul will make
Than Julius Caesar, or bright—
Enter a Messenger
Sad tidings bring I to you out of France,
Of loss, of slaughter and discomfiture:59
60 Guyenne, Champaigne,60 Rouen, Rheims, Orléans,
Paris, Gisors, Poitiers, are all quite lost.
Speak softly, or the loss of those great towns
Will make him burst his lead64 and rise from death.
If Henry were recalled to life again,
These news would cause him once more yield the ghost.67
70 Amongst the soldiers this is mutterèd:
That here you maintain several71 factions,
And whilst a field72 should be dispatched and fought,
You are disputing of73 your generals.
One would have lingering wars with little cost:
75 Another would fly swift, but wanteth wings:
A third thinks, without expense at all,
By guileful77 fair words peace may be obtained.
Awake, awake, English nobility!
Let not sloth dim your honours new-begot:79
80 Cropped are the flower-de-luces80 in your arms:
Of England’s coat,81 one half is cut away.
[Exit]
These tidings would call forth her83 flowing tides.
85 Give me my steelèd coat:85 I’ll fight for France.
Away with these disgraceful wailing robes! He removes his mourning robes
Wounds will I lend the French instead of eyes,
To weep their intermissive88 miseries.
Enter to them another Messenger
90 France is revolted from the English quite,90
Except some petty91 towns of no import.
The dauphin92 Charles is crownèd king in Rheims:
The Bastard93 of Orléans with him is joined:
Reignier, Duke of Anjou, doth take his part:
95 The Duke of Alençon flieth to his side.
Exit
O whither shall we fly97 from this reproach?
Bedford, if thou be slack, I’ll fight it out.
An army have I mustered in my thoughts,
Wherewith already France is overrun.
Enter another Messenger
Wherewith you now bedew104 King Henry’s hearse,
105 I must inform you of a dismal105 fight
Betwixt the stout Lord Talbot and the French.
The circumstance109 I’ll tell you more at large.
110 The tenth of August110 last, this dreadful lord,
Retiring from the siege of Orléans,
Having full scarce112 six thousand in his troop,
By three and twenty thousand of the French
Was round encompassèd114 and set upon:
115 No leisure had he to enrank115 his men.
He wanted116 pikes to set before his archers:
Instead whereof, sharp stakes plucked out of hedges
They pitchèd in the ground confusedly,118
To keep the horsemen off from breaking in.
120 More than three hours the fight continuèd,
Where valiant Talbot above human thought121
Enacted wonders with his sword and lance.
Hundreds he sent to hell, and none durst stand123 him:
Here, there, and everywhere, enraged he slew.
125 The French exclaimed the devil was in arms:
All the whole army stood agazed on126 him.
His soldiers spying his undaunted spirit
‘A128 Talbot! A Talbot!’ cried out amain
And rushed into the bowels129 of the battle.
130 Here had the conquest fully been sealed up,130
If Sir John Falstaff131 had not played the coward.
He, being in the vanguard, placed behind
With133 purpose to relieve and follow them,
Cowardly fled, not having struck one stroke.
135 Hence grew the general wrack135 and massacre;
Enclosèd136 were they with their enemies.
A base Walloon,137 to win the dauphin’s grace,
Thrust Talbot with a spear into the back,
Whom all France with their chief assembled strength
140 Durst not presume to look once in the face.
For living idly here in pomp142 and ease,
Whilst such a worthy leader, wanting aid,
Unto his dastard foemen144 is betrayed.
And Lord Scales with him, and Lord Hungerford:
Most of the rest slaughtered, or took likewise.
I’ll hale149 the dauphin headlong from his throne:
150 His crown shall be the ransom of my friend:
Four of their lords I’ll change151 for one of ours.
Farewell, my masters: to my task will I.
Bonfires in France forthwith I am to make,
To keep154 our great Saint George’s feast withal.
155 Ten thousand soldiers with me I will take,
Whose bloody deeds shall make all Europe quake.
The English army is grown weak and faint:
The Earl of Salisbury craveth supply,159
160 And hardly160 keeps his men from mutiny,
Since they, so few, watch such a multitude.
[Exit]
Either to quell163 the dauphin utterly,
Or bring him in obedience to your yoke.
To go about my preparation.
Exit Bedford
To view th’artillery and munition,
And then I will proclaim young Henry king.
Exit Gloucester
Being171 ordained his special governor,
And for his safety there I’ll best devise.
Exit
I am left out; for me nothing remains:
175 But long I will not be Jack-out-of-office.175
The king from Eltham I intend to steal
And sit177 at chiefest stern of public weal.
Exit
Sound a flourish. Enter Charles [the Dauphin, the Duke of] Alençon and Reignier [Duke of Anjou], marching with Drum and Soldiers
So in the earth, to this day is not known.
Late3 did he shine upon the English side:
Now we are victors: upon us he smiles.
5 What towns of any moment5 but we have?
At pleasure here we lie near Orléans;
Otherwhiles7 the famished English, like pale ghosts,
Faintly besiege us one hour in a month.
10 Either they must be dieted10 like mules,
And have their provender11 tied to their mouths,
Or piteous they will look, like drownèd mice.
Talbot is taken, whom we wont14 to fear:
15 Remaineth none but mad-brained Salisbury,
And he may well in fretting16 spend his gall,
Nor men nor money hath he to make war.
Now for the honour of the forlorn19 French:
20 Him I forgive my death that killeth me
When he sees me go back one foot or fly.
Exeunt
Here alarum: they are beaten back by the English with great loss
Enter Charles, Alençon and Reignier
Dogs, cowards, dastards!23 I would ne’er have fled,
But that they left me ’midst my enemies.
He fighteth as one weary of his life:
The other lords, like lions wanting food,
Do rush upon us as their hungry28 prey.
30 England all30 Olivers and Rowlands bred,
During the time Edward the Third did reign:
More truly now may this be verified;
For none but Samsons and Goliases33
It sendeth forth to skirmish:34 one to ten!
35 Lean raw-boned35 rascals, who would e’er suppose
They had such courage and audacity?
And hunger will enforce them to be more eager:38
Of old I know them; rather with their teeth
40 The walls they’ll tear down than forsake40 the siege.
Their arms are set, like clocks, still42 to strike on;
Else ne’er could they hold out so as they do:
By my consent,44 we’ll even let them alone.
Enter the Bastard of Orléans
Hath the late overthrow wrought49 this offence?
50 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,
Ordainèd53 is to raise this tedious siege
And drive the English forth54 the bounds of France:
55 The spirit of deep prophecy she hath,
Exceeding the nine sibyls56 of old Rome:
What’s past and what’s to come she can descry.57
Speak, shall I call her in? Believe my words,
For they are certain and unfallible.
[Exit Bastard of Orléans]
But first, to try60 her skill,
Reignier, stand thou as dauphin in my place:
Question her proudly:62 let thy looks be stern:
By this means shall we sound63 what skill she hath.
Enter [the Bastard of Orléans, with] Joan [la] Pucelle [armed]
Where is the dauphin?— Come, come from behind: To Charles
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:
70 Stand back, you lords, and give us leave awhile. Reignier, Alençon and Bastard stand apart70
My wit73 untrained in any kind of art:
Heaven and our Lady gracious74 hath it pleased
75 To shine on my contemptible estate.75
Lo,76 whilst I waited on my tender lambs,
And to sun’s parching heat displayed my cheeks,
God’s mother deignèd to appear to me,
And in a vision full of majesty,
80 Willed me to leave my base vocation
And free my country from calamity:
Her aid she promised, and assured success.
In complete83 glory she revealed herself:
And whereas I was black and swart84 before,
85 With those clear rays which she infused on85 me
That beauty am I blessed with, which you may see.
Ask me what question thou canst possible,
And I will answer unpremeditated:88
My courage try by combat, if thou dar’st,
90 And thou shalt find that I exceed my sex.
Resolve on91 this, thou shalt be fortunate,
If thou receive me for thy warlike mate.92
Only this proof94 I’ll of thy valour make,
95 In single combat thou shalt buckle95 with me,
And if thou vanquishest,96 thy words are true:
Otherwise I renounce all confidence.97
Decked99 with five flower-de-luces on each side,
100 The which at Touraine,100 in Saint Katherine’s churchyard,
Out of a great deal of old iron I chose forth.
Here they fight, and Joan la Pucelle overcomes
105 And fightest with the sword of Deborah.105
Impatiently I burn with thy desire:108
My heart and hands thou hast at once subdued.
110 Excellent Pucelle, if thy name be so,
Let me thy servant111 and not sovereign be:
’Tis the French dauphin sueth to112 thee thus.
For my profession’s114 sacred from above:
115 When I have chased all thy foes from hence,
Then will I think upon a recompense.116
120 Else ne’er could he so long protract120 his speech.
These women are shrewd123 tempters with their tongues.
125 Shall we give o’er125 Orléans, or no?
Fight till the last gasp: I’ll be your guard.
130 This night the siege assuredly I’ll raise:
Expect Saint Martin’s summer,131 halcyon’s days,
Since I have entered into these wars.
Glory is like a circle in the water,
Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself
135 Till by broad spreading, it disperse to naught.
With Henry’s death, the English circle ends:
Dispersèd are the glories it included:
Now am I like that proud insulting138 ship
Which Caesar139 and his fortune bare at once.
Thou with141 an eagle art inspirèd then.
Helen,142 the mother of great Constantine,
Nor yet Saint Philip’s daughters143 were like thee.
Bright star of Venus,144 fall’n down on the earth,
145 How may I reverently worship thee enough?
Drive them from Orléans, and be immortalized.148
150 No prophet will I trust, if she prove false.
Exeunt
Enter Gloucester, with his Servingmen [in blue coats]
Since Henry’s death, I fear, there is conveyance:2
Where be these warders,3 that they wait not here? Servingmen knock on gates
Open the gates; ’tis Gloucester that calls.
10 We do no otherwise than we are willed.10
There’s none12 protector of the realm but I.
Break up13 the gates, I’ll be your warrantize: To Servingmen
Shall I be flouted14 thus by dunghill grooms?
Gloucester’s men rush at the Tower Gates, and Woodville the Lieutenant speaks within
Open the gates: here’s Gloucester that would enter.
The Cardinal19 of Winchester forbids:
20 From him I have express commandment
That thou nor none of thine shall be let in.
Arrogant Winchester, that haughty prelate,
Whom Henry, our late sovereign, ne’er could brook?24
25 Thou art no friend to God or to the king:
Open the gates, or I’ll shut26 thee out shortly.
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
And not ‘Protector’, of the king or realm.
Thou that contrived’st34 to murder our dead lord:
35 Thou that giv’st whores35 indulgences to sin:
I’ll canvass36 thee in thy broad cardinal’s hat,
If thou proceed in this thy insolence.
This be Damascus,39 be thou cursèd Cain,
40 To slay thy brother Abel, if thou wilt.
Thy scarlet robes as a child’s bearing-cloth42
I’ll use to carry thee out of this place.
Draw, men, for all this46 privilegèd 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 stamp thy cardinal’s hat:
50 In spite of Pope or dignities50 of Church,
Here by the cheeks I’ll drag thee up and down.
Now beat them hence: why do you let them stay?— To Servingmen
55 Thee I’ll chase hence, thou wolf in sheep’s array.— To Winchester
Out, tawny coats!— Out, scarlet hypocrite!
Here Gloucester’s men beat out the [Bishop of Winchester’s] men, and enter in the hurly-burly the Mayor of London and his Officers
Thus contumeliously58 should break the peace!
60 Here’s Beaufort, that regards nor God nor king,
Hath here distrained61 the Tower to his use.
One that still63 motions war and never peace,
O’ercharging64 your free purses with large fines—
65 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.68
Here they skirmish again
But to make open proclamation.
Come, officer, as loud as e’er thou canst, cry. Handing a paper to the Officer, who reads
But we shall meet, and break78 our minds at large.
80 Thy heart-blood I will have for this day’s work.
This cardinal’s more haughty than the devil.
85 For I intend to have it ere85 long.
Exeunt [separately, Gloucester and Bishop of Winchester with their Servingmen]
Good God, these nobles should such stomachs87 bear!
I myself fight not once in forty year.
Exeunt
Enter the Master Gunner of Orléans and his Boy
And how the English have the suburbs2 won.
Howe’er, unfortunate, I missed my aim.
Chief Master Gunner am I of this town,
Something I must do to procure me grace:7
The prince’s espials8 have informèd me
How the English, in the suburbs close entrenched,9
10 Wont,10 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,14
15 A piece of ordnance15 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,
20 And thou shalt find me at the governor’s.
Exit [Master Gunner]
I’ll never trouble you, if I may spy them.
Exit
Enter Salisbury and Talbot on the turrets, with others [including Sir Thomas Gargrave and Sir William Glasdale]
How wert thou handled, being prisoner?
25 Or by what means got’st thou to be released?
Discourse, I prithee, on this turret’s top.
Called the brave Lord Ponton de Santrailles:
For him was I exchanged and ransomèd.
30 But with a baser30 man of arms by far
Once in contempt they would have bartered me:
Which I, disdaining, scorned, and cravèd32 death,
Rather than I would be so pilled33 esteemed:
In fine,34 redeemed I was as I desired.
35 But O, the treacherous Falstaff wounds my heart,
Whom with my bare fists I would execute,
If I now had him brought into my power.
40 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,
45 And with my nails digged stones out of the ground,
To hurl at the beholders of my shame.
My grisly47 countenance made others fly:
None durst come near for fear of sudden48 death.
In iron walls they deemed me not secure:
50 So great fear of my name ’mongst them was spread,
That they supposed I could rend bars of steel,
And spurn52 in pieces posts of adamant.
Wherefore53 a guard of chosen shot I had,
That walked about me every minute while:54
55 And if I did but stir out of my bed,
Ready they were to shoot me to the heart.
Enter the Boy [who passes over the stage and exits] with a linstock [lit and burning]
But we will be revenged sufficiently.
Now it is supper-time in Orléans:
60 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 express64 opinions
65 Where is best place to make our batt’ry65 next. They look through the grate
Or with light skirmishes enfeeblèd.69
Here they shoot [within] and Salisbury [and Gargrave] fall down
Speak, Salisbury; at least, if thou canst, speak:
How far’st thou, mirror74 of all martial men?
75 One of thy eyes and thy cheek’s side struck off?
Accursèd tower! Accursèd fatal76 hand
That hath contrived this woeful tragedy.
In thirteen battles Salisbury o’ercame:
Henry the Fifth he first trained to the wars:
80 Whilst any trump80 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.
85 Heaven, be thou gracious to none alive,
If Salisbury wants86 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]
90 Salisbury, cheer thy spirit with this comfort:
Thou shalt not die whiles—
He beckons with his hand and smiles on me:
As93 who should say ‘When I am dead and gone,
Remember to avenge me on the French.’
95 Plantagenet,95 I will; and like thee, Nero,
Play on the lute, beholding the towns burn:
Wretched shall France be only in97 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
The dauphin, with one Joan la Pucelle joined,
A holy prophetess new risen up,
Is come with a great power103 to raise the siege.
Here Salisbury lifteth himself up and groans
105 It irks105 his heart he cannot be revenged.
Frenchmen, I’ll be a Salisbury to you.
Puzzel or pucelle,107 dolphin or dogfish,
Your hearts I’ll stamp out with my horse’s heels,
And make a quagmire of your mingled109 brains.
110 Convey110 me Salisbury into his tent,
And then we’ll try what these dastard Frenchmen dare.
Alarum. Exeunt
Here an alarum again, and Talbot pursueth the Dauphin, and driveth him: then enter Joan la Pucelle, driving Englishmen before her, [and exeunt]. Then enter Talbot
Our English troops retire, I cannot stay2 them:
A woman clad in armour chaseth them.
Enter [Joan la] Pucelle
Here, here she comes. I’ll have a bout4 with thee:
5 Devil or devil’s dam,5 I’ll conjure thee:
Blood6 will I draw on thee — thou art a witch —
And straightway give thy soul to him7 thou serv’st.
Here they fight
10 My breast I’ll burst with straining of my courage10
And from my shoulders crack my arms asunder.
But I will chastise this high-minded12 strumpet.
They fight again
I must go victual14 Orléans forthwith.
A short alarum: then [the French] enter the town with soldiers
15 O’ertake me if thou canst: I scorn thy strength.
Go, go, cheer up thy hungry-starvèd men:
Help Salisbury to make his testament:17
This day is ours, as many more shall be.
Exit
20 I know not where I am, nor what I do:
A witch by fear, not force, like Hannibal,21
Drives back our troops and conquers as she lists:22
So bees with smoke and doves with noisome23 stench
Are from their hives and houses driven away.
25 They called us, for our fierceness, English dogs:
Now, like to whelps,26 we crying run away.
A short alarum
Hark, countrymen: either renew the fight,
Or tear the lions out of England’s coat;28
Renounce your soil, give29 sheep in lions’ stead:
30 Sheep run not half so treacherous30 from the wolf,
Or horse or oxen from the leopard,
As you fly from your oft-subduèd32 slaves.
Alarum. Here another skirmish
It33 will not be: retire into your trenches:
You all consented34 unto Salisbury’s death,
35 For none would strike a stroke in his revenge.35
Pucelle is entered into Orléans,
In spite of us or aught that we could do.
O would38 I were to die with Salisbury!
The shame hereof will make me hide my head.
Exit Talbot
Alarum: retreat: flourish
Enter on the walls,* [Joan la] Pucelle, Charles [the Dauphin], Reignier, Alençon and Soldiers [with colours]
Rescued is Orléans from the English.
Thus Joan la Pucelle hath performed her word.
5 How shall I honour thee for this success?
Thy promises are like Adonis’ garden6
That one day bloomed and fruitful were the next.
France, triumph in thy glorious prophetess!
Recovered is the town of Orléans:
10 More blessèd hap10 did ne’er befall our state.
Dauphin, command the citizens make bonfires
And feast and banquet in the open streets,
To celebrate the joy that God hath given us.
When they shall hear how we have played the men.16
For which I will divide my crown with her,
And all the priests and friars in my realm
20 Shall in procession sing her endless praise.
A statelier pyramid21 to her I’ll rear
Than Rhodope’s of Memphis’ ever was.
In memory of her, when she is dead,
Her ashes, in an urn more precious
25 Than the rich-jewelled25 coffer of Darius,
Transported shall be at high26 festivals
Before the kings and queens of France.
No longer on Saint Denis28 will we cry,
But Joan la Pucelle shall be France’s saint.
30 Come in, and let us banquet royally,
After this golden day of victory.
Flourish. Exeunt
Enter [above] a [French] Sergeant of a band* with two Sentinels
If any noise or soldier you perceive
Near to the walls, by some apparent3 sign
Let us have knowledge at the court of guard.4
[Exit Sergeant]
Thus are poor servitors,5
When others sleep upon their quiet beds,
Constrained7 to watch in darkness, rain and cold.
Enter Talbot, Bedford, Burgundy, [and soldiers], with scaling-ladders, their drums beating a dead march
By whose approach9 the regions of Artois,
10 Wallon,10 and Picardy are friends to us:
This happy11 night the Frenchmen are secure,
Having all day caroused and banqueted:
Embrace we then this opportunity,
As fitting best to quittance14 their deceit,
15 Contrived by art15 and baleful sorcery.
Despairing of his own arm’s fortitude,17
To join with witches and the help of hell.
20 But what’s that Pucelle whom they term so pure?
If underneath the standard24 of the French
25 She carry armour25 as she hath begun.
God is our fortress, in whose conquering name
Let us resolve to scale their flinty28 bulwarks.
That we do make our entrance several31 ways:
That, if it chance the one of us do fail,
The other yet may rise against their force.
Now, Salisbury, for thee, and for the right
Of English Henry, shall this night appear
How much in duty I am bound to both.
[English soldiers, having scaled the walls] cry: ‘Saint George,’ ‘A Talbot.’
The French leap o’er the walls in their shirts. Enter several ways [the] Bastard [of Orléans],
Alençon [and] Reignier, half ready, and half unready
Hearing alarums at our chamber doors.
Ne’er heard I of a warlike enterprise
More venturous47 or desperate than this.
Enter Charles and Joan [la Pucelle]
Didst thou at first, to flatter53 us withal,
Make us partakers of a little gain,
55 That now our loss might be ten times so much?
At all times will you have my power alike?57
Sleeping or waking must I still prevail,58
Or will you blame and lay the fault on me?
60 Improvident60 soldiers, had your watch been good,
This sudden mischief61 never could have fall’n.
That, being captain of the watch tonight,
Did look no better to that weighty charge.64
As that whereof I had the government,66
We had not been thus shamefully surprised.67
Within her quarter71 and mine own precinct
I was employed in passing72 to and fro,
About73 relieving of the sentinels.
Then how or which way should they first break in?
How or which way: ’tis sure they found some place
But77 weakly guarded, where the breach was made:
And now there rests78 no other shift but this:
To gather our soldiers, scattered and dispersed,
80 And lay new platforms80 to endamage them.
Alarum. Enter an [English] Soldier, crying ‘A Talbot! A Talbot!’ [The French] fly, leaving their clothes behind
The cry of ‘Talbot’ serves me for a sword,
For I have loaden me with many spoils,83
Using no other weapon but his name.
Exit
Enter Talbot, Bedford, Burgundy, [a Captain, and others]
Whose pitchy2 mantle over-veiled the earth.
Here sound retreat, and cease our hot pursuit.
Retreat [sounded]
5 And here advance5 it in the market-place,
The middle centre of this cursèd town.
Now have I paid my vow7 unto his soul:
For every drop of blood was drawn from him,
There hath at least five Frenchmen died tonight.
10 And that hereafter ages may behold
What ruin11 happened in revenge of him,
Within their chiefest temple I’ll erect
A tomb, wherein his corpse shall be interred:
Upon the which, that everyone may read,
15 Shall be engraved the sack of Orléans,
The treacherous manner of his mournful16 death,
And what a terror he had been to France.
But, lords, in all our bloody massacre,
I muse19 we met not with the dauphin’s grace,
20 His new-come champion,20 virtuous Joan of Arc,
Nor any of his false confederates.
Roused on the sudden from their drowsy beds,
They did amongst the troops of armèd men
25 Leap o’er the walls for refuge in the field.
For smoke and dusky vapours of the night,
Am sure I scared the dauphin and his trull,28
When arm in arm they both came swiftly running,
30 Like to a pair of loving turtle-doves30
That could not live asunder day or night.
After that things are set in order here,
We’ll follow them with all the power33 we have.
Enter a Messenger
35 Call ye the warlike Talbot, for his acts
So much applauded through the realm of France?
With modesty admiring thy renown,
40 By me entreats, great lord, thou wouldst vouchsafe40
To visit her poor41 castle where she lies,
That she may boast she hath beheld the man
Whose glory fills the world with loud report.43
45 Will turn unto a peaceful comic sport,45
When ladies crave to be encountered with.46
You may not, my lord, despise47 her gentle suit.
Could not prevail with all their oratory,49
50 Yet hath a woman’s kindness overruled:50
And therefore tell her I return great thanks,
And in submission will attend on52 her.
Will not your honours bear me company?
55 And I have heard it said, unbidden55 guests
Are often welcomest when they are gone.
I mean to prove58 this lady’s courtesy.
Come hither, captain.
60 You perceive my mind?60
Whispers
Exeunt
Enter [the] Countess [of Auvergne and her Porter]
And when you have done so, bring the keys to me.
Exit
5 I shall as famous be by this exploit
As Scythian Tomyris6 by Cyrus’ death.
Great is the rumour of this dreadful knight,
And his achievements of no less account:
Fain9 would mine eyes be witness with mine ears,
10 To give their censure10 of these rare reports.
Enter Messenger and Talbot
By message craved, so is Lord Talbot come.
Is this the Talbot, so much feared abroad16
That with his name the mothers still17 their babes?
I see report is fabulous18 and false:
I thought I should have seen some Hercules,19
20 A second Hector,20 for his grim aspect,
And large proportion21 of his strong-knit limbs.
Alas, this is a child, a silly22 dwarf:
It cannot be this weak and writhled23 shrimp
Should strike such terror to his enemies.
But since your ladyship is not at leisure,
I’ll sort27 some other time to visit you.
30 To know the cause of your abrupt departure.
I32 go to certify her Talbot’s here.
Enter Porter with keys
And for that cause I trained36 thee to my house.
Long time thy shadow37 hath been thrall to me,
For in my gallery thy picture hangs:
But now the substance shall endure the like,
40 And I will chain these legs and arms of thine,
That hast by tyranny41 these many years
Wasted42 our country, slain our citizens,
And sent our sons and husbands captivate.43
To think that you have aught47 but Talbot’s shadow
Whereon to practise your severity.
You are deceived, my substance is not here;
For what you see is but the smallest part
55 And least55 proportion of humanity:
I tell you, madam, were the whole frame56 here,
It is of such a spacious lofty pitch,57
Your roof were not sufficient to contain’t.
60 He will be here, and yet he is not here:
How can these contrarieties61 agree?
Winds his horn, drums strike up, a peal of ordnance. Enter Soldiers
How say you, madam? Are you now persuaded
That Talbot is but shadow of himself?
65 These are his substance, sinews, arms and strength,
With which he yoketh66 your rebellious necks,
Razeth67 your cities and subverts your towns
And in a moment makes them desolate.
70 I find thou art no less than fame hath bruited,70
And more than may be gathered by thy shape.
Let my presumption not provoke thy wrath,
For I am sorry that with reverence
I did not entertain74 thee as thou art.
The mind of Talbot, as you did mistake
The outward composition of his body.
What you have done hath not offended me:
Nor other satisfaction do I crave,
80 But only, with your patience,80 that we may
Taste of your wine and see what cates81 you have,
For soldiers’ stomachs82 always serve them well.
To feast so great a warrior in my house.
Exeunt
A rose briar revealed
Enter Richard Plantagenet, Warwick, Somerset, Suffolk, [Vernon, and a Lawyer]
Dare no man answer in a case2 of truth?
The garden here is more convenient.
Or else6 was wrangling Somerset in th’error?
And never yet could frame8 my will to it,
And therefore frame the law unto my will.
Between two dogs, which hath the deeper mouth,12
Between two blades,13 which bears the better temper,
Between two horses, which doth bear him14 best,
15 Between two girls, which hath the merriest eye,
I have perhaps some shallow16 spirit of judgement:
But in these nice17 sharp quillets of the law,
Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw.18
20 The truth appears so naked20 on my side
That any purblind21 eye may find it out.
So clear, so shining, and so evident
That it will glimmer through a blind24 man’s eye.
In dumb significants26 proclaim your thoughts:
Let him that is a true-born gentleman
And stands28 upon the honour of his birth,
If he suppose that I have pleaded29 truth,
30 From off this brier pluck a white rose30 with me. He plucks a white rose
But dare maintain the party32 of the truth,
Pluck a red33 rose from off this thorn with me. He plucks a red rose
35 Of base insinuating flattery
I pluck this white rose with Plantagenet.
And say withal38 I think he held the right.
40 Till you conclude that he upon whose side
The fewest roses are cropped from the tree
Shall yield42 the other in the right opinion.
If I have fewest, I subscribe44 in silence.
I pluck this pale and maiden47 blossom here,
Giving my verdict on the white rose side.
50 Lest bleeding you do paint the white rose red
And fall on my side so against your will.
Opinion53 shall be surgeon to my hurt
And keep me on the side where still54 I am.
The argument you held was wrong in law: To Somerset
In sign whereof I pluck a white rose too.
Shall dye your white rose in a bloody red.
For pale they look with fear, as witnessing
The truth on our side.
’Tis not for fear, but anger, that thy cheeks
Blush for pure shame to counterfeit our roses,
And yet thy tongue will not confess thy error.
Whiles thy consuming canker eats his falsehood.
That shall maintain what I have said is true,
75 Where false75 Plantagenet dare not be seen.
I scorn thee and thy fashion,77 peevish boy.
We grace82 the yeoman by conversing with him.
His grandfather84 was Lionel Duke of Clarence,
85 Third son to the third Edward King of England:
Spring crestless86 yeomen from so deep a root?
Or durst not for his craven88 heart say thus.
90 On any plot of ground in Christendom.
Was not thy father, Richard Earl of Cambridge,
For treason executed in our late king’s days?
And by his treason, stand’st not thou attainted,93
Corrupted, and exempt from ancient gentry?
95 His trespass yet lives guilty in thy blood,
And till thou be restored,96 thou art a yeoman.
Condemned to die for treason, but no traitor;
And that I’ll prove on better men than Somerset,
100 Were100 growing time once ripened to my will.
For your partaker101 Pole and you yourself,
I’ll note102 you in my book of memory,
To scourge you for this apprehension:103
Look to it104 well, and say you are well warned.
And know us by these colours for thy foes,
For these my friends in spite107 of thee shall wear.
As cognizance109 of my blood-drinking hate,
110 Will I for ever and my faction wear,
Until it wither with me to my grave,
Or flourish to the height of my degree.112
And so farewell until I meet thee next.
Exit
Exit
Shall be wiped out in the next parliament,
Called for119 the truce of Winchester and Gloucester:
120 And if thou be not then created York,
I will not live to be accounted Warwick.
Meantime, in122 signal of my love to thee,
Against proud Somerset and William Pole,
Will I upon thy party124 wear this rose.
125 And here I prophesy: this brawl today,
Grown to this faction126 in the Temple garden,
Shall send, between the red rose and the white,
A thousand souls to death and deadly night.
130 That you on my behalf would pluck a flower.
Come, let us four to dinner: I dare say
135 This quarrel will drink blood another day.
Exeunt
Enter Mortimer, brought in a chair, and Jailers
Let dying Mortimer here rest himself.
Even like a man new haled3 from the rack,
So fare my limbs with long imprisonment:
5 And these grey locks, the pursuivants5 of death,
Nestor-like6 agèd in an age of care,
Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer.
These eyes, like lamps whose wasting oil is spent,
Wax9 dim, as drawing to their exigent:
10 Weak shoulders, overborne10 with burdening grief,
And pithless11 arms, like to a withered vine,
That droops his sapless branches to the ground.
Yet are these feet, whose strengthless stay is numb,13
Unable to support this lump of clay,
15 Swift-wingèd with desire to get a grave,
As witting16 I no other comfort have.
But tell me, keeper, will my nephew come?
We sent unto the Temple, unto his chamber,
20 And answer was returned that he will come.
Poor gentleman, his wrong22 doth equal mine.
Since Henry Monmouth23 first began to reign,
Before whose glory I was great in arms,
25 This loathsome sequestration25 have I had:
And even26 since then hath Richard been obscured,
Deprived of honour and inheritance.
But now, the arbitrator28 of despairs,
Just death, kind umpire29 of men’s miseries,
30 With sweet enlargement30 doth dismiss me hence:
I would his31 troubles likewise were expired,
That so he might recover what was lost.
Enter Richard [Plantagenet]
Your nephew, late36 despisèd Richard, comes.
And in his bosom spend my latter38 gasp.
O tell me when my lips do touch his cheeks,
40 That I may kindly40 give one fainting kiss. He embraces Richard
And now declare, sweet stem from York’s great stock,41
Why didst thou say of late thou wert despised?
And in that ease I’ll tell thee my disease.44
45 This day in argument upon a case,
Some words there grew ’twixt Somerset and me:
Among which terms he used his lavish47 tongue
And did upbraid me with my father’s death:
Which obloquy49 set bars before my tongue,
50 Else with the like I had requited50 him.
Therefore, good uncle, for my father’s sake,
In honour of a true Plantagenet,
And for alliance’53 sake, declare the cause
My father, Earl of Cambridge, lost his head.
And hath detained me all my flowering youth
Within a loathsome dungeon, there to pine,
Was cursèd instrument of his decease.
60 For I am ignorant and cannot guess.
And death approach not ere my tale be done.
Henry the Fourth, grandfather to this king,
Deposed his nephew64 Richard, Edward’s son,
65 The first begotten and the lawful heir
Of Edward king, the third of that descent,
During whose67 reign the Percies of the north,
Finding his usurpation most unjust,
Endeavoured my advancement to the throne.
70 The reason moved70 these warlike lords to this
Was for that — young King Richard thus removed,
Leaving no heir begotten of his body —
I was the next by birth and parentage:
For by my mother74 I derivèd am
75 From Lionel Duke of Clarence, the third son
To King Edward the Third; whereas the king
From John of Gaunt77 doth bring his pedigree,
Being but fourth of that heroic line.
But mark:79 as in this haughty great attempt
80 They80 labourèd to plant the rightful heir,
I lost my liberty and they their lives.
Long after this, when Henry the Fifth,
Succeeding his father Bullingbrook,83 did reign,
Thy father, Earl of Cambridge then, derived
85 From famous Edmund Langley, Duke of York,
Marrying my sister that thy mother was,
Again, in pity of my hard87 distress,
Levied an army, weening88 to redeem
And have installed me in the diadem:89
90 But, as the rest, so fell that noble earl,
And was beheaded. Thus the Mortimers,
In whom the title rested, were suppressed.
95 And that my fainting words do warrant95 death:
Thou art my heir; the rest I wish thee gather:96
But yet be wary in thy studious97 care.
But yet methinks my father’s execution
100 Was nothing less than bloody tyranny.
Strong-fixèd is the house of Lancaster,
And like a mountain, not to be removed.
But now thy uncle is removing104 hence,
105 As princes do their courts, when they are cloyed105
With long continuance in a settled place.
Might but redeem the passage108 of your age.
110 Which giveth many wounds when one will kill.
Mourn not, except111 thou sorrow for my good,
Only give order112 for my funeral.
And so farewell, and fair be all thy hopes,
And prosperous be thy life in peace and war.
Dies
In prison hast thou spent a pilgrimage,
And like a hermit overpassed117 thy days.
Well, I will lock his counsel in my breast,
And what I do imagine, let that rest.119
120 Keepers, convey him hence, and I myself
Will see his burial better than his life.
Exeunt [Jailers with Mortimer’s body]
Here dies the dusky122 torch of Mortimer,
Choked with ambition of123 the meaner sort.
And for124 those wrongs, those bitter injuries,
125 Which Somerset hath offered to my house,125
I doubt not but with honour to redress.
And therefore haste I to the parliament,
Either to be restorèd to my blood,128
Or make129 mine ill the advantage of my good.
Exit
Flourish. Enter King [Henry VI], Exeter, Gloucester, [Bishop of] Winchester, Warwick, Somerset, Suffolk, Richard Plantagenet. Gloucester offers to put up a bill: Winchester snatches it, tears it
With written pamphlets studiously devised?
Humphrey of Gloucester, if thou canst accuse,
Or aught intend’st to lay unto my charge,
5 Do it without invention,5 suddenly,
As I with sudden and extemporal6 speech
Purpose to answer what thou canst object.7
Or thou shouldst find thou hast dishonoured me.
10 Think not, although in writing I preferred10
The manner of thy vile11 outrageous crimes,
That therefore I have forged,12 or am not able
Verbatim13 to rehearse the method of my pen.
No, prelate, such is thy audacious wickedness,
15 Thy lewd,15 pestiferous and dissentious pranks,
As very16 infants prattle of thy pride.
Thou art a most pernicious17 usurer,
Froward18 by nature, enemy to peace,
Lascivious, wanton,19 more than well beseems
20 A man of thy profession and degree.20
And for21 thy treachery, what’s more manifest?
In that thou laid’st a trap to take my life,
As well at London Bridge as at the Tower.
Beside, I fear me, if thy thoughts were sifted,24
25 The king, thy sovereign, is not quite exempt
From envious26 malice of thy swelling heart.
To give me hearing what I shall reply.
If I were covetous, ambitious or perverse,
30 As he will have me, how am I so poor?
Or how haps31 it I seek not to advance
Or raise myself, but keep my wonted32 calling?
And for dissension, who preferreth peace
More than I do? — Except34 I be provoked.
35 No, my good lords, it is not that35 offends:
It is not that that hath incensed the Duke:
It is because no one should sway37 but he,
No one but he should be about38 the king:
And that engenders thunder in his breast
40 And makes him roar these accusations forth.
But he shall know I am as good—
Thou bastard43 of my grandfather.
45 But one imperious45 in another’s throne?
And useth it to patronage49 his theft.
Touching52 thy spiritual function, not thy life.
55 My lord, it were your duty to forbear.55 To Gloucester
Methinks my lord should be religious To Winchester
And know the office58 that belongs to such.
60 It fitteth not a prelate so to plead.
Is not his grace Protector to the king?
65 Lest it be said ‘Speak, sirrah,65 when you should:
Must your bold verdict enter talk with lords?’
Else would I have a fling67 at Winchester.
The special watchmen of our English weal,69
70 I would prevail, if prayers might prevail,
To join your hearts in love and amity.
O what a scandal is it to our crown,
That two such noble peers as ye should jar!73
Believe me, lords, my tender years74 can tell
75 Civil dissension is a viperous worm75
That gnaws the bowels76 of the commonwealth.
A noise within: ‘Down with the tawny-coats!’
What tumult’s this?
Begun through malice of the Bishop’s men.
A noise again: ‘Stones, stones!’ Enter Mayor [of London]
Pity the city of London, pity us!
The Bishop and the Duke of Gloucester’s men,
Forbidden late83 to carry any weapon,
Have filled their pockets full of pebble stones
85 And, banding themselves85 in contrary parts,
Do pelt so fast at one another’s pate86
That many have their giddy87 brains knocked out:
Our windows are broke down in every street,
And we, for fear, compelled to shut our shops.
Enter [Servingmen] in skirmish with bloody pates
To hold your slaught’ring hands and keep the peace.
Pray, uncle Gloucester, mitigate92 this strife.
Skirmish again
And set this unaccustomed fight aside.
Just and upright and, for your royal birth,
Inferior to none but to his majesty:
100 And ere that we will suffer100 such a prince,
So kind a father of the commonweal,
To be disgracèd102 by an inkhorn mate,
We and our wives and children all will fight
And have our bodies slaughtered by thy foes.
Shall pitch a field106 when we are dead.
Begin again
And if you love me, as you say you do,
Let me persuade you to forbear awhile.
Can you, my lord of Winchester, behold
My sighs and tears and will not once relent?
Who should be pitiful, if you be not?
Or who should study114 to prefer a peace,
115 If holy churchmen take delight in broils?
Except you mean with obstinate repulse117
To slay your sovereign and destroy the realm.
You see what mischief119 and what murder too
120 Hath been enacted through your enmity:
Then be at peace, except ye thirst for blood.
Or I would see his124 heart out, ere the priest
125 Should ever get that privilege of125 me.
Hath banished moody127 discontented fury,
As by his smoothèd brows it doth appear:
Why look you still so stern and tragical?129
That malice was a great and grievous sin:
And will not you maintain the thing you teach,
But prove a chief offender in the same?
For shame, my lord of Winchester, relent:
What, shall a child instruct you what to do?
Love for thy love and hand for hand I give.
See here, my friends and loving countrymen, To the others
This token142 serveth for a flag of truce
Betwixt ourselves and all our followers:
So help me God, as I dissemble144 not.
How joyful am I made by this contract.147—
Away, my masters,148 trouble us no more,
But join in friendship, as your lords have done.
Exeunt [the Mayor and Servingmen]
Which in the right of Richard Plantagenet
155 We do exhibit155 to your majesty.
And if your grace mark157 every circumstance,
You have great reason to do Richard right,
Especially for those occasions159
160 At Eltham Place I told your majesty.
Therefore, my loving lords, our pleasure is
That Richard be restorèd to his blood.163
165 So shall his father’s wrongs165 be recompensed.
But all the whole inheritance I give
That doth belong unto the House of York,
170 From whence you spring by lineal descent.
And humble service till the point of death.
And, in reguerdon174 of that duty done,
175 I gird175 thee with the valiant sword of York:
Rise Richard, like a true Plantagenet,
And rise created princely177 Duke of York.
And as my duty springs, so perish they
180 That grudge one thought180 against your majesty.
To cross the seas and to be crowned in France:
185 The presence of a king engenders love
Amongst his subjects and his loyal friends,
As it disanimates187 his enemies.
For friendly counsel cuts off many foes.
Exeunt all but Exeter
Not seeing what is likely to ensue:
This late dissension grown betwixt the peers
Burns under feignèd ashes of forged194 love,
195 And will at last break out into a flame:
As festered196 members rot but by degree,
Till bones and flesh and sinews fall away,
So will this base and envious198 discord breed.
And now I fear that fatal prophecy
200 Which, in the time of Henry named the Fifth,
Was in the mouth of every sucking babe:
That Henry202 born at Monmouth should win all
And Henry203 born at Windsor lose all:
Which is so plain that Exeter doth wish
205 His days may finish ere that hapless205 time.
Exit
Enter [Joan la] Pucelle disguised, with four [French] Soldiers with sacks upon their backs
Through which our policy2 must make a breach.
Take heed, be wary how you place your words:
Talk like the vulgar4 sort of market men
5 That come to gather money for their corn.
If we have entrance, as I hope we shall,
And that7 we find the slothful watch but weak,
I’ll by a sign give notice to our friends,
That Charles the Dauphin may encounter9 them.
And we be11 lords and rulers over Rouen:
Therefore we’ll knock.
[They] knock
15 Poor market folks that come to sell their corn.
Exeunt
Enter Charles, [the] Bastard [of Orléans], Alençon, [Reignier, and forces]
And once again we’ll sleep secure in Rouen.
Now she is there, how will she specify
Here is the best and safest passage in?
Which, once discerned, shows that her meaning is,
25 No25 way to that, for weakness, which she entered.
Enter [Joan la] Pucelle on the top, thrusting out a torch burning
That joineth Rouen unto her countrymen,
But burning fatal to the Talbonites!
30 The burning torch in yonder turret stands.
A prophet to32 the fall of all our foes!
Enter and cry, ‘The dauphin!’, presently,34
35 And then do35 execution on the watch.
Alarum [Exeunt]
An alarum. [Enter] Talbot in an excursion
If Talbot but survive thy treachery.
Pucelle, that witch, that damnèd sorceress,
Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares,39
40 That hardly40 we escaped the pride of France.
Exit
An alarum: excursions. Bedford brought in sick in a chair. Enter Talbot and Burgundy without: within, [Joan la] Pucelle, Charles, Bastard of Orléans, [Alençon] and Reignier on the walls
I think the Duke of Burgundy will fast
Before he’ll buy again at such a rate.43
’Twas full of darnel:44 do you like the taste?
I trust ere long to choke thee with thine own And make thee curse the harvest of that corn.
And run a-tilt at51 death within a chair?
Encompassed with53 thy lustful paramours,
Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age
55 And twit55 with cowardice a man half dead?
Damsel, I’ll have a bout56 with you again,
Or else let Talbot perish with this shame.
If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow.
[The English] whisper together in counsel
60 God speed60 the parliament: who shall be the speaker?
To try if that our own be ours or no.
65 But unto thee, Alençon, and the rest.
Will ye, like soldiers, come and fight it out?
Like peasant footboys69 do they keep the walls,
70 And dare not take up arms like gentlemen.
For Talbot means no goodness by his looks.
Goodbye, my lord: we came but to tell you
That we are here.
Exeunt from the walls
Or else reproach be Talbot’s greatest fame.
Vow, Burgundy, by honour of thy house,
Pricked78 on by public wrongs sustained in France,
Either to get the town again or die.
80 And I, as sure as English Henry lives,
And as his81 father here was conqueror,
As sure as in this late betrayèd town
Great Coeur-de-lion’s83 heart was burièd,
So sure I swear to get the town or die.
The valiant Duke of Bedford.— Come, my lord, To Bedford
We will bestow you in some better place,
Fitter for sickness and for crazy89 age.
Here will I sit before the walls of Rouen
And will be partner of your weal92 or woe.
95 That stout95 Pendragon, in his litter sick,
Came to the field and vanquishèd his foes.
Methinks I should revive the soldiers’ hearts,
Because I ever98 found them as myself.
100 Then be it so: heavens keep old Bedford safe.
And now no more ado,101 brave Burgundy,
But gather we our forces out of hand,102
And set upon our boasting enemy.
Exit [with Burgundy and forces]
An alarum: excursions. Enter Sir John Falstaff and a Captain
We are like to have the overthrow106 again.
Exit
Exit
Retreat: excursions. [Joan la] Pucelle, Alençon and Charles fly
For I have seen our enemies’ overthrow.
What is the trust or strength of foolish man?
They that of late were daring113 with their scoffs
Are glad114 and fain by flight to save themselves.
Bedford dies, and is carried in by two in his chair.
An alarum. Enter Talbot, Burgundy and the rest [of the English soldiers]
This is a double honour, Burgundy:
Yet heavens have glory for this victory.
Enshrines thee in his heart, and there erects
120 Thy noble deeds as valour’s monuments.
I think her old familiar122 is asleep.
Now where’s the Bastard’s braves,123 and Charles his gleeks?
What, all amort?124 Rouen hangs her head for grief
125 That such a valiant company are fled.
Now will we take some order126 in the town,
Placing therein some expert127 officers,
And then depart to Paris, to the king,
For there young Henry with his nobles lie.129
The noble Duke of Bedford late deceased,
But see his exequies133 fulfilled in Rouen.
A braver soldier never couchèd lance,134
135 A gentler heart did never sway135 in court.
But kings and mightiest potentates136 must die,
For that’s the end137 of human misery.
Exeunt
Enter Charles, [the] Bastard [of Orléans], Alençon, [Joan la] Pucelle [and French soldiers]
Nor grieve that Rouen is so recoverèd:2
Care3 is no cure, but rather corrosive,
For things that are not to be remedied.
5 Let frantic Talbot triumph for a while
And like a peacock sweep along his tail:
We’ll pull his plumes and take away his train,7
If Dauphin and the rest will be but ruled.8
10 And of thy cunning10 had no diffidence:
One sudden foil11 shall never breed distrust.
And we will make thee famous through the world.
15 And have thee reverenced like a blessèd saint.
Employ thee then, sweet virgin, for our good.
By fair18 persuasions, mixed with sugared words,
We will entice the Duke of Burgundy
20 To leave the Talbot and to follow us.
France were no place for Henry’s warriors,
Nor should that nation boast it so with us,
But be extirpèd24 from our provinces.
And not have title of an earldom here.
To bring this matter to the wishèd end.
Drum sounds afar off
Hark! By the sound of drum you may perceive
30 Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward.30
Here sound an English march
There goes the Talbot, with his colours spread,31
And all the troops of English after him.
[Here sound a] French march
Now in the rearward comes the duke and his:
Fortune in34 favour makes him lag behind.
35 Summon a parley:35 we will talk with him.
Trumpets sound a parley
[Enter Burgundy with soldiers]
Stay, let thy humble handmaid speak to thee.
45 And see the cities and the towns defaced
By wasting46 ruin of the cruel foe,
As looks the mother on her lowly47 babe
When death doth close his tender-dying48 eyes.
See, see the pining49 malady of France:
50 Behold the wounds, the most unnatural50 wounds,
Which thou thyself hast given her woeful breast.
O turn thy edgèd52 sword another way:
Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that help:
One drop of blood drawn from thy country’s bosom
55 Should grieve thee more than streams of foreign gore.
Return thee therefore with a flood of tears,
And wash away thy country’s stainèd57 spots.
Or nature59 makes me suddenly relent.
Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny.61
Who join’st thou with, but with a lordly nation
That will not trust thee but for profit’s sake?
When Talbot hath set footing once in France
65 And fashioned thee that instrument of ill,
Who then but English Henry will be lord
And thou be thrust out like a fugitive?
Call we to mind, and mark but68 this for proof:
Was not the Duke of Orléans thy foe?
70 And was he not in England prisoner?
But when they heard he was thine enemy,
They set him free without his ransom paid,
In spite of Burgundy and all his friends.
See, then, thou fight’st against thy countrymen,
75 And join’st with them75 will be thy slaughtermen.
Come, come, return; return, thou wandering76 lord:
Charles and the rest will take thee in their arms.
Have battered me like roaring cannon-shot,
80 And made me almost yield upon my knees.
Forgive me, country, and sweet countrymen:
And, lords, accept this hearty82 kind embrace.
My forces and my power83 of men are yours.
So farewell, Talbot: I’ll no longer trust thee.
And doth deserve a coronet89 of gold.
And seek how we may prejudice91 the foe.
Exeunt
Enter King [Henry VI], Gloucester, [Bishop of] Winchester, [Richard Plantagenet, now Duke of] York, Suffolk, Somerset, Warwick, Exeter, [Vernon, Basset and others]. To them, with his Soldiers, Talbot
Hearing of your arrival in this realm,
I have awhile given truce unto my wars,
To do4 my duty to my sovereign:
5 In sign whereof, this arm, that hath reclaimed5
To your obedience fifty fortresses,
Twelve cities and seven walled towns of strength,
Beside five hundred prisoners of esteem,8
Lets fall his sword before your highness’ feet,
10 And with submissive loyalty of heart
Ascribes the glory of his conquest got
First to my God and next unto your grace. He kneels
That hath so long been resident in France?
When I was young, as yet I am not old,
I do remember how my father said
A stouter19 champion never handled sword.
20 Long since we were resolvèd20 of your truth,
Your faithful service and your toil in war,
Yet never have you tasted our reward,
Or been reguerdoned23 with so much as thanks,
Because till now we never saw your face.
25 Therefore stand up, and for these good deserts25 Talbot rises
We here create you Earl of Shrewsbury,
And in our coronation take your place.
Sennet. Flourish
Exeunt all but Vernon and Basset
Disgracing29 of these colours that I wear
30 In honour of my noble lord of York,
Dar’st thou maintain the former words thou spak’st?
The envious33 barking of your saucy tongue
Against my lord the Duke of Somerset.
Strikes him
That whoso draws a sword ’tis present39 death,
40 Or else this blow should broach40 thy dearest blood.
But I’ll unto his majesty, and crave41
I may have liberty42 to venge this wrong,
When thou shalt see I’ll meet thee to thy cost.
45 And after45 meet you sooner than you would.
Exeunt
Enter King [Henry VI], Gloucester, [Bishop of] Winchester, York, Suffolk, Somerset, Warwick, Talbot, and [the] Governor [of Paris and] Exeter
That you elect4 no other king but him;
5 Esteem5 none friends but such as are his friends,
And none your foes but such as shall pretend6
Malicious practices against his state:
This shall ye do, so help you righteous God.
Enter Falstaff
10 To haste unto your coronation,
A letter was delivered to my hands, He shows the letter
Writ to your grace from th’Duke of Burgundy.
I vowed, base knight, when I did meet thee next,
15 To tear the Garter15 from thy craven’s leg, Plucks it off
Which I have done, because unworthily
Thou wast installèd in that high degree.
Pardon me, princely Henry, and the rest:
This dastard,19 at the battle of Patay,
20 When but in all I was six thousand strong
And that the French were almost ten to one,
Before we met or that a stroke was given,
Like to a trusty squire did run away:
In which assault we lost twelve hundred men.
25 Myself and divers25 gentlemen beside
Were there surprised and taken prisoners.
Then judge, great lords, if I have done amiss:
Or whether that such cowards ought to wear
This ornament of knighthood: yea or no?
And ill beseeming any common31 man,
Much more a knight, a captain32 and a leader.
Knights of the Garter were of noble birth,
35 Valiant and virtuous, full of haughty courage,35
Such as were grown to credit36 by the wars:
Not fearing death, nor shrinking for37 distress,
But always resolute in most extremes.
He then that is not furnished39 in this sort
40 Doth but usurp the sacred name of knight,
Profaning this most honourable order,
And should, if I were worthy to be judge,
Be quite degraded,43 like a hedge-born swain
That doth presume to boast of gentle44 blood.
Be packing,46 therefore, thou that wast a knight:
Henceforth we banish thee on pain of death.
[Exit Falstaff]
And now, my Lord Protector, view the letter
Sent from our uncle Duke of Burgundy.
No more but51 plain and bluntly ‘To the king’?
Hath he forgot he is his sovereign?
Or doth this churlish53 superscription
Pretend54 some alteration in good will?
55 What’s here? — ‘I have upon especial cause, Reads
Moved with compassion of my country’s wrack,56
Together with the pitiful complaints
Of such as your oppression feeds upon,
Forsaken your pernicious59 faction
60 And joined with Charles, the rightful King of France.’
O monstrous treachery! Can this be so?
That in alliance, amity and oaths,
There should be found such false dissembling guile?
And give him chastisement69 for this abuse.
70 How say you, my lord? Are you not content?
I should have begged I might have been employed.
Let him perceive how ill we brook74 his treason
75 And what offence it is to flout75 his friends.
You may behold confusion77 of your foes.
[Exit]
Enter Vernon and Basset
Say, gentlemen, what makes you thus exclaim,83
And wherefore crave you combat, or with whom?
First let me know, and then I’ll answer you.
90 This fellow here with envious90 carping tongue,
Upbraided me about the rose I wear,
Saying the sanguine92 colour of the leaves
Did represent my master’s blushing cheeks,
When stubbornly he did repugn94 the truth
95 About a certain question95 in the law
Argued betwixt the Duke of York and him:
With other vile and ignominious terms:
In confutation98 of which rude reproach
And in defence of my lord’s worthiness,
100 I crave the benefit100 of law of arms.
For though he seem with forgèd102 quaint conceit
To set103 a gloss upon his bold intent,
Yet know, my lord, I was provoked by him,
105 And he first took exceptions at105 this badge,
Pronouncing that the paleness of this flower
Bewrayed107 the faintness of my master’s heart.
110 Though ne’er so cunningly you smother it.
When for so slight and frivolous a cause
Such factious emulations113 shall arise?
Good cousins114 both of York and Somerset,
115 Quiet yourselves, I pray, and be at peace.
And then your highness shall command a peace.
Betwixt ourselves let us decide it then.
And perish ye with your audacious prate:124
125 Presumptuous vassals,125 are you not ashamed
With this immodest126 clamorous outrage
To trouble and disturb the king and us?
And you, my lords, methinks you do not well
To bear with their perverse objections:129
130 Much less to take occasion130 from their mouths
To raise a mutiny131 betwixt yourselves.
Let me persuade you take a better course.
135 Henceforth I charge you, as you love our favour,
Quite to forget this quarrel and the cause.
And you, my lords, remember where we are:
In France, amongst a fickle wavering nation:
If they perceive dissension in our looks
140 And that within ourselves140 we disagree,
How will their grudging stomachs141 be provoked
To wilful disobedience, and rebel!142
Beside, what infamy will there arise,
When foreign princes shall be certified,144
145 That for a toy,145 a thing of no regard,
King Henry’s peers and chief nobility
Destroyed themselves, and lost the realm of France!
O, think upon the conquest of my father,
My tender years, and let us not forgo149
150 That150 for a trifle that was bought with blood.
Let me be umpire in this doubtful151 strife:
I see no reason, if I wear this rose, Putting on a red rose
That any one should therefore be suspicious153
I more incline to154 Somerset than York:
155 Both are my kinsmen, and I love them both.
As156 well they may upbraid me with my crown,
Because, forsooth,157 the King of Scots is crowned.
But your discretions158 better can persuade
Than I am able to instruct or teach:
160 And therefore, as we hither came in peace,
So let us still continue peace and love.
Cousin of York, we institute162 your grace
To be our regent in these parts163 of France:
And good my lord of Somerset, unite
165 Your troops of horsemen with his bands of foot,165
And like true subjects, sons of your progenitors,166
Go cheerfully together and digest167
Your angry choler168 on your enemies.
Ourself, my Lord Protector and the rest,
170 After some respite,170 will return to Calais;
From thence to England, where I hope ere long
To be presented, by your victories,
With Charles, Alençon and that traitorous rout.173
Flourish
Exeunt all but York, Warwick, Exeter [and] Vernon
175 Prettily,175 methought, did play the orator.
In that he wears the badge of Somerset.
I dare presume, sweet prince, he thought no harm.
Other affairs must now be managèd.
Exeunt [all but] Exeter
For had the passions183 of thy heart burst out,
I fear we should have seen deciphered184 there
185 More rancorous spite, more furious raging broils,
Than yet can be imagined or supposed:
But howsoe’er, no simple187 man that sees
This jarring discord of nobility,
This shouldering189 of each other in the court,
190 This factious bandying190 of their favourites,
But that191 it doth presage some ill event.
’Tis much192 when sceptres are in children’s hands:
But more, when envy193 breeds unkind division,
There comes the ruin, there begins confusion.194
Exit
Enter Talbot, with Trump and Drum before Bordeaux
Summon their general unto the wall.
[Trumpet] sounds. Enter General aloft
English John Talbot, captains, calls you forth,
Servant in arms to Harry King of England,
5 And thus he would:5 open your city gates,
Be humble to us, call my sovereign yours,
And do him homage as obedient subjects,
And I’ll withdraw me and my bloody8 power.
But if you frown upon this proffered peace,
10 You tempt the fury of my three attendants,
Lean famine, quartering11 steel, and climbing fire,
Who in a moment even12 with the earth
Shall lay your stately and air-braving13 towers,
If you forsake14 the offer of their love.
Our nation’s terror and their bloody scourge,
The period17 of thy tyranny approacheth.
On us thou canst not enter but by death:
For I protest we are well fortified
20 And strong enough to issue out20 and fight.
If thou retire, the dauphin well appointed21
Stands with the snares of war to tangle thee.
On either hand thee23 there are squadrons pitched,
To wall24 thee from the liberty of flight;
25 And no way canst thou turn thee for redress,25
But death doth front26 thee with apparent spoil,
And pale27 destruction meets thee in the face:
Ten thousand French have ta’en the sacrament28
To rive29 their dangerous artillery
30 Upon no Christian soul but English Talbot:
Lo, there thou stand’st, a breathing valiant man
Of an invincible unconquered spirit:
This is the latest33 glory of thy praise
That I thy enemy due34 thee withal:
35 For ere the glass35 that now begins to run
Finish the process of his sandy hour,
These eyes that see thee now well colourèd37
Shall see thee withered, bloody, pale and dead.
Drum afar off
Hark, hark, the dauphin’s drum, a warning bell,39
40 Sings heavy40 music to thy timorous soul,
And mine shall ring thy dire41 departure out.
Exit
Out, some light horsemen, and peruse43 their wings.
O negligent and heedless44 discipline,
45 How are we parked45 and bounded in a pale?
A little herd of England’s timorous deer,
Mazed47 with a yelping kennel of French curs.
If we be English deer, be then in blood,48
Not rascal-like49 to fall down with a pinch,
50 But rather, moody-mad:50 and desperate stags
Turn on the bloody hounds with heads of steel51
And make the cowards stand52 aloof at bay:
Sell every man his life as dear as mine,
And they shall find dear54 deer of us, my friends.
55 God and Saint George, Talbot and England’s right,
Prosper our colours in this dangerous fight!
Exeunt]
Enter a Messenger that meets York. Enter York with Trumpet and many Soldiers
That dogged2 the mighty army of the dauphin?
That he is marched to Bordeaux with his power
5 To fight with Talbot: as he marched along,
By your espials6 were discoverèd
Two mightier troops than that the dauphin led,
Which joined with him and made their march for Bordeaux.
10 That thus delays my promisèd supply
Of horsemen, that were levied for this siege.
Renownèd Talbot doth expect my aid,
And I am louted13 by a traitor villain,
And cannot help the noble chevalier:
15 God comfort him in this necessity:15
If he miscarry,16 farewell wars in France.
Enter another messenger [Sir William Lucy]
Never so needful18 on the earth of France,
Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot,
20 Who now is girdled20 with a waist of iron
And hemmed about with grim destruction:
To Bordeaux, warlike duke, to Bordeaux, York,
Else farewell Talbot, France, and England’s honour.
25 Doth stop25 my cornets, were in Talbot’s place,
So should we save a valiant gentleman
By forfeiting a traitor and a coward:
Mad ire and wrathful fury makes me weep,
That thus we die, while remiss29 traitors sleep.
We mourn, France smiles: we lose, they daily get,
All ’long of33 this vile traitor Somerset.
35 And on his son young John, who two hours since
I met in travel toward his warlike father:
This seven years did not Talbot see his son,
And now they meet where both their lives are done.
40 To bid his young son welcome to his grave?
Away, vexation41 almost stops my breath,
That sundered42 friends greet in the hour of death.
Lucy, farewell: no more my fortune can,43
But curse the cause44 I cannot aid the man.
45 Maine, Blois, Poitiers, and Tours are won away,
’Long all46 of Somerset and his delay.
Exeunt [all but Lucy]
Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders,
Sleeping neglection49 doth betray to loss
50 The conquest of our scarce-cold50 conqueror,
That ever-living51 man of memory,
Henry the Fifth: whiles they each other cross,52
Lives, honours, lauds,53 and all hurry to loss.
[Exit]
Enter Somerset with his army, [a Captain of Talbot’s with him]
This expedition2 was by York and Talbot
Too rashly plotted. All our general force
Might with a sally4 of the very town
5 Be buckled with:5 the over-daring Talbot
Hath sullied all his gloss6 of former honour
By this unheedful,7 desperate, wild adventure:
York set him on to fight and die in shame,
That, Talbot dead, great York might bear the name.
Set from our o’ermatched11 forces forth for aid.
[Enter Sir William Lucy]
Who, ringed about with bold adversity,
15 Cries out for noble York and Somerset,
To beat assailing death from his weak legions:16
And whiles the honourable captain there
Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied limbs,
And, in advantage ling’ring,19 looks for rescue,
20 You, his false hopes, the trust20 of England’s honour,
Keep off aloof21 with worthless emulation:
Let not your private discord22 keep away
The levied succours23 that should lend him aid,
While he, renownèd noble gentleman,
25 Yields up his life unto a world of25 odds.
Orléans the Bastard, Charles, Burgundy,
Alençon, Reignier, compass him about,27
And Talbot perisheth by your default.28
Swearing that you withhold his levied host,31
Collected for this expedition.
I owe him little duty, and less love,
35 And take foul scorn35 to fawn on him by sending.
Hath now entrapped the noble-minded Talbot:
Never to England shall he bear his life,
But dies betrayed to fortune by your strife.
Within six hours they will be at his aid.
For fly he could not, if he would have fled,
And fly would Talbot never, though44 he might.
Exeunt
Enter Talbot and his son [John]
To tutor thee in stratagems of war,
That Talbot’s name might be in thee revived
When sapless age and weak unable limbs
5 Should bring thy father to his drooping5 chair.
But — O malignant6 and ill-boding stars —
Now thou art come unto a feast of death,
A terrible and unavoided8 danger:
Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest horse,
10 And I’ll direct thee how thou shalt escape
By sudden11 flight. Come, dally not, be gone.
And shall I fly? O, if you love my mother,
Dishonour not her honourable name,
15 To make a bastard and a slave of me:
The world will say, he is not Talbot’s blood,
That basely fled when noble Talbot stood.
Your22 loss is great, so your regard should be;
My worth unknown, no loss is known in me.
Upon my death the French can little boast;
25 In yours they will, in you all hopes are lost.
Flight cannot stain the honour you have won,
But mine27 it will, that no exploit have done.
You fled for vantage,28 everyone will swear:
But if I bow,29 they’ll say it was for fear.
30 There is no hope that ever I will stay,
If the first hour I shrink and run away:
Here on my knee I beg mortality,32
Rather than life preserved with infamy.
If death be so apparent,44 then both fly.
My age46 was never tainted with such shame.
No more can I be severed from your side,
Than can yourself yourself in twain divide:
50 Stay, go, do what you will, the like do I;
For live I will not, if my father die.
Born to eclipse53 thy life this afternoon:
Come, side by side, together live and die,
55 And soul with soul from France to heaven fly.
Exeunt
Alarum: excursions, wherein Talbot’s son [John] is hemmed about [by French soldiers], and Talbot rescues him
The Regent2 hath with Talbot broke his word
And left us to the rage of France his3 sword.
Where is John Talbot? Pause, and take thy breath:
5 I gave thee life and rescued thee from death.
The life thou gav’st me first was lost and done,
Till with thy warlike sword, despite of fate,
To my determined9 time thou gav’st new date.
It warmed thy father’s heart with proud desire
Of bold-faced victory. Then leaden age,
Quickened13 with youthful spleen and warlike rage,
Beat down Alençon, Orléans, Burgundy,
15 And from the pride15 of Gallia rescued thee.
The ireful16 bastard Orléans, that drew blood
From thee, my boy, and had the maidenhood17
Of thy first fight, I soon encountered,
And interchanging blows I quickly shed
20 Some of his bastard blood, and in disgrace20
Bespoke him thus: ‘Contaminated, base
And misbegotten22 blood I spill of thine,
Mean23 and right poor, for that pure blood of mine
Which thou didst force from Talbot, my brave boy.’
25 Here, purposing25 the Bastard to destroy,
Came in strong rescue. Speak, thy father’s care:
Art thou not weary, John? How dost thou fare?
Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly,
Now thou art sealed29 the son of chivalry?
30 Fly, to revenge my death when I am dead:
The help of one stands me in little stead.
O, too much folly is it, well I wot,32
To hazard all our lives in one small boat.
If I today die not with Frenchmen’s rage,
35 Tomorrow I shall die with mickle35 age.
By me they nothing gain, and if I stay
’Tis but the short’ning of my life one day.
In thee thy mother dies, our household’s name,
My death’s revenge, thy youth, and England’s fame:
40 All these and more we hazard by thy stay;
All these are saved if thou wilt fly away.
These words of yours draw life-blood from my heart.
On that advantage,44 bought with such a shame,
45 To save a paltry life and slay bright fame,
Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly,
The47 coward horse that bears me fall and die:
And like48 me to the peasant boys of France,
To be shame’s scorn49 and subject of mischance.
50 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:52
If son to Talbot, die at Talbot’s foot.
55 Thou Icarus: thy life to me is sweet:
If thou wilt fight, fight by thy father’s side,
And commendable proved, let’s die in pride.57
Exeunt
Alarum. Excursions. Enter old Talbot led [by a Servant]
O, where’s young Talbot? Where is valiant John?
Triumphant3 death, smeared with captivity,
Young Talbot’s valour makes me smile at thee.
5 When he perceived me shrink and on my knee,
His bloody sword he brandished over me,
And like a hungry lion did commence
Rough deeds of rage and stern impatience:8
But when my angry guardant9 stood alone,
10 Tend’ring my ruin10 and assailed of none,
Dizzy-eyed11 fury and great rage of heart
Suddenly made him from my side to start
Into the clust’ring13 battle of the French:
And in that sea of blood my boy did drench14
15 His over-mounting15 spirit, and there died,
My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride.
Enter [Soldiers] with [the body of] John Talbot borne
Anon,19 from thy insulting tyranny,
20 Couplèd in bonds of perpetuity,
Two Talbots, wingèd through the lither21 sky,
In thy despite22 shall scape mortality.
O thou whose wounds become hard-favoured23 death, To John
Speak to thy father ere thou yield thy breath.
25 Brave25 death by speaking, whether he will or no:
Imagine him a Frenchman and thy foe.
Poor boy, he smiles, methinks, as who27 should say,
‘Had death been French, then death had died today.’
Come, come, and lay him in his father’s arms:
30 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
Enter Charles, Alençon, Burgundy, Bastard [of Orléans] and [Joan la] Pucelle
We should have found a bloody day of this.
Did flesh36 his puny sword in Frenchmen’s blood.
‘Thou maiden38 youth, be vanquished by a maid.’
But with a proud majestical high scorn,
40 He answered thus: ‘Young Talbot was not born
To be the pillage41 of a giglot wench’:
So rushing in the bowels42 of the French,
He left me proudly, as unworthy fight.
45 See where he lies inhearsèd45 in the arms
Of the most bloody46 nurser of his harms.
Whose life was England’s glory, Gallia’s wonder.48
50 During the life, let us not wrong it dead.
Enter Lucy [with a French herald]
To know who hath obtained the glory of the day.
55 We English warriors wot55 not what it means.
I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta’en
And to survey57 the bodies of the dead.
But tell me whom thou seek’st?
Valiant Lord Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury,
Created for his rare62 success in arms
Great Earl of Washford, Waterford, and Valence,
Lord Talbot of Goodrich and Urchinfield,
65 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,
Worthy69 Saint Michael and the Golden Fleece,
70 Great Marshal to Henry the Sixth
Of all his wars within the realm of France?
The Turk,73 that two-and-fifty kingdoms hath,
Writes not so tedious a style as this.
75 Him that thou magnifi’st with all these titles,
Stinking and fly-blown76 lies here at our feet.
Your kingdom’s terror and black Nemesis?78
O were mine eyeballs into bullets turned,
80 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 amaze84 the proudest of you all.
85 Give me their bodies, that I may bear them hence
And give them burial as beseems86 their worth.
He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit:
For God’s sake let him have them: to keep them here,
90 They would but stink, and putrefy the air.
A phoenix that shall make all France afeard.
95 And now to Paris in this conquering vein:
All will be ours, now bloody Talbot’s slain.
Exeunt
Sennet. Enter King [Henry VI], Gloucester, and Exeter [attended]
The Emperor, and the Earl of Armagnac?
They humbly sue unto4 your excellence
5 To have a godly peace concluded of5
Between the realms of England and of France.
To stop effusion of our Christian blood
10 And stablish10 quietness on every side.
It was both impious and unnatural
That such immanity13 and bloody strife
Should reign among professors of one faith.
And surer bind this knot of amity,
The Earl of Armagnac, near knit17 to Charles,
A man of great authority in France,
Proffers his only daughter to your grace
20 In marriage, with a large and sumptuous dowry.
And fitter is my study and my books
Than wanton23 dalliance with a paramour.
Yet call th’ambassadors, and as you please,
25 So let them have their answers every one:
Exit Attendant
I shall be well content with any choice
Tends27 to God’s glory and my country’s weal.
Enter Winchester [in Cardinal’s habit], and three Ambassadors [one a Papal legate]
And called unto a cardinal’s degree?29
30 Then I perceive that will be verified30
Henry the Fifth did sometime31 prophesy:
‘If once he come to be a cardinal,
He’ll make his cap33 co-equal with the crown.’
35 Have been considered and debated on:
Your purpose is both good and reasonable:
And therefore are we certainly resolved
To draw38 conditions of a friendly peace,
Which by my lord of Winchester we mean
40 Shall be transported presently40 to France.
I have informed his highness so at large42
As43 liking of the lady’s virtuous gifts,
Her beauty and the value of her dower,
45 He doth intend she shall be England’s queen.
Bear her this jewel, pledge of my affection.
And so, my Lord Protector, see them guarded
And safely brought to Dover, wherein shipped49
50 Commit them to the fortune of the sea.
Exeunt [all but Winchester and Legate]
The sum of money which I promised
Should be delivered to his holiness
For clothing me in these grave ornaments.54
[Exit]
Or be inferior to the proudest peer:
Humphrey of Gloucester, thou shalt well perceive
That neither in birth or for authority,
60 The bishop will be overborne by thee:
I’ll either make thee stoop and bend thy knee,
Or sack this country with a mutiny.62
Exit
Enter Charles, Burgundy, Alençon, Bastard [of Orléans], Reignier and Joan [la Pucelle]
’Tis said the stout2 Parisians do revolt
And turn again unto the warlike French.
5 And keep not back your powers5 in dalliance.
Else ruin combat with7 their palaces.
Enter Scout
And happiness to his accomplices.9
Into two parties, is now conjoined in one,
And means to give you battle presently.
15 But we will presently provide15 for them.
Now he is gone, my lord, you need not fear.
Command the conquest, Charles, it shall be thine:
20 Let Henry fret and all the world repine.20
Exeunt
Alarum. Excursions. Enter Joan la Pucelle
Now help, ye charming2 spells and periapts,
And ye choice3 spirits that admonish me,
And give me signs of future accidents.4
Thunder
5 You speedy helpers, that are substitutes5
Under the lordly6 monarch of the north,
Appear, and aid me in this enterprise.
Enter Fiends
This speedy and quick8 appearance argues proof
Of your accustomed diligence to me.
10 Now, ye familiar spirits10 that are culled
Out of the powerful regions under earth,
Help me this once, that France may get the field.12
They walk, and speak not
O hold me not with silence over-long:
Where14 I was wont to feed you with my blood,
15 I’ll lop a member15 off and give it you
In earnest16 of a further benefit,
So you do condescend to help me now.
They hang their heads
No hope to have redress?18 My body shall
Pay recompense, if you will grant my suit.
They shake their heads
20 Cannot my body nor blood-sacrifice
Entreat you to your wonted furtherance?21
Then take my soul — my body, soul and all —
Before that England give the French the foil.23
They depart
See, they forsake me! Now the time is come
25 That France must vail25 her lofty-plumèd crest
And let her head fall into England’s lap.
My ancient27 incantations are too weak,
And hell too strong for me to buckle28 with:
Now, France, thy glory droopeth to the dust.
Exit
Excursions. Burgundy and York fight hand to hand. [The] French fly [leaving Joan la Pucelle in York’s power]
Unchain your spirits now with spelling31 charms
And try if they can gain your liberty.
A goodly prize, fit for the devil’s grace!33
See how the ugly witch doth bend her brows,34
35 As if with35 Circe she would change my shape!
No shape but his can please your dainty38 eye.
40 And may ye both be suddenly surprised
By bloody hands, in41 sleeping on your beds!
Exeunt
Alarum. Enter Suffolk with Margaret in his hand
Gazes on her
O fairest beauty, do not fear nor fly:
For I will touch thee but with reverent hands:
I kiss these fingers for48 eternal peace,
And lay49 them gently on thy tender side.
50 Who art thou? Say, that I may honour thee.
The King of Naples, whosoe’er thou art.
Be not offended, nature’s miracle,
55 Thou art allotted55 to be ta’en by me:
So doth the swan her downy cygnets save,56
Keeping them prisoner underneath her wings:
Yet if this servile usage58 once offend,
Go, and be free again, as Suffolk’s friend.
She is going
60 O stay!— I have no power to let her pass; Aside
My hand would free her, but my heart says no.
As plays the sun upon the glassy62 streams,
Twinkling63 another counterfeited beam,
So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes.
65 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,67 disable not thyself!
Hast not a tongue? Is she not here?
Wilt thou be daunted at a woman’s sight?69
70 Ay, beauty’s princely majesty is such
Confounds71 the tongue and makes the senses rough.
What ransom must I pay before I pass?
For I perceive I am thy prisoner.
Before thou make a trial of her love?
She is a woman, therefore to be won.
Then how can Margaret be thy paramour?
Why, for my king: tush, that’s a wooden thing.89
And peace establishèd between these realms.
But there remains a scruple93 in that too:
For though her father be the King of Naples,
95 Duke of Anjou and Maine, yet is he poor,
And our nobility will scorn the match.
Henry is youthful and will quickly yield.—
100 Madam, I have a secret to reveal. To Margaret
And will not any way dishonour me.
105 And then I need not crave his courtesy.
Your bondage happy111 to be made a queen?
Than is a slave in base servility,113
For princes should be free.
If happy England’s royal king be free.
To put a golden sceptre in thy hand
120 And set a precious crown upon thy head,
If thou wilt condescend to be my—
To woo so fair a dame to be his wife,
And have no portion127 in the choice myself.
How say you, madam, are ye so content?
And, madam, at your father’s castle walls
We’ll crave a parley,132 to confer with him.
[Enter Captains, Colours and Trumpeters]
Sound [a parley]. Enter Reignier on the walls
See, Reignier, see, thy daughter prisoner.
I am a soldier, and unapt to weep,
Or to exclaim on138 fortune’s fickleness.
140 Consent, and for thy honour give consent,
Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king,
Whom142 I with pain have wooed and won thereto:
And this her easy-held143 imprisonment
Hath gained thy daughter princely liberty.
That Suffolk doth not flatter, face,147 or feign.
To give thee answer of thy just149 demand.
[Exit from the walls]
Trumpets sound. Enter Reignier [below]
Command in Anjou what your honour pleases.
155 Fit to be made companion with a king:
What answer makes your grace unto my suit?
To be the princely bride of such a lord,
Upon condition I may quietly159
160 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.
And those two counties164 I will undertake
165 Your grace shall well and quietly enjoy.
As deputy167 unto that gracious king,
Give thee her hand for sign of plighted168 faith.
170 Because this is in traffic170 of a king.—
And yet, methinks, I could be well content Aside
To be mine own attorney172 in this case.—
I’ll over then to England with this news, To Reignier
And make this marriage to be solemnized:174
175 So farewell, Reignier: set this diamond safe
In golden palaces, as it becomes.176
The Christian prince King Henry, were he here.
180 Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret.
She is going
No princely182 commendations to my king?
A virgin and his servant, say to him.
But madam, I must trouble you again;
No loving token to his majesty?
Never yet taint189 with love, I send the king.
Kisses her
To send such peevish192 tokens to a king.
[Exeunt Reignier and Margaret]
Thou mayst not wander in that labyrinth:194
195 There Minotaurs and ugly treasons lurk.
Solicit196 Henry with her wondrous praise.
Bethink197 thee on her virtues that surmount,
Mad natural graces that extinguish198 art,
Repeat their semblance199 often on the seas,
200 That when thou com’st to kneel at Henry’s feet,
Thou mayst bereave201 him of his wits with wonder.
Exit
Enter York, Warwick, [a] Shepherd [and Joan la] Pucelle [guarded]
Have I sought every country3 far and near,
And now it is my chance4 to find thee out,
5 Must I behold thy timeless5 cruel death?
Ah, Joan, sweet daughter Joan, I’ll die with thee.
I am descended of a gentler8 blood.
Thou art no father, nor no friend9 of mine.
I did beget11 her, all the parish knows:
Her mother liveth yet, can testify
She was the first fruit of my bach’lorship.13
Wicked and vile, and so her death concludes.16
God knows thou art a collop18 of my flesh,
And for thy sake have I shed many a tear:
20 Deny me not, I prithee, gentle Joan.
Of22 purpose to obscure my noble birth.
The morn that I was wedded to her mother.
25 Kneel down and take my blessing, good my girl.
Wilt thou not stoop? Now cursèd be the time
Of thy nativity:27 I would the milk
Thy mother gave thee when thou sucked’st her breast,
Had been a little ratsbane29 for thy sake.
30 Or else, when thou didst keep30 my lambs afield,
I wish some ravenous wolf had eaten thee.
Dost thou deny thy father, cursèd drab?32—
O burn her, burn her: hanging is too good.
Exit
35 To fill the world with vicious qualities.
Not one begotten of a shepherd swain,37
But issued from the progeny38 of kings:
Virtuous and holy, chosen from above,
40 By inspiration of celestial grace,
To work exceeding41 miracles on earth.
I never had to do42 with wicked spirits:
But you that are polluted with your lusts,
Stained with the guiltless blood of innocents,
45 Corrupt and tainted with a thousand vices:
Because you want46 the grace that others have,
You judge it straight47 a thing impossible
To compass48 wonders but by help of devils.
No misconceivèd,49 Joan of Arc hath been
50 A virgin from her tender50 infancy,
Chaste and immaculate in very thought,
Whose maiden blood thus rigorously52 effused
Will cry for vengeance at the gates of heaven.
Spare56 for no faggots: let there be enough:
Place barrels of pitch57 upon the fatal stake,
That so her torture may be shortenèd.
60 Then, Joan, discover60 thine infirmity,
That warranteth61 by law to be thy privilege.
I am with child, ye bloody homicides:
Murder not then the fruit within my womb,
Although ye hale64 me to a violent death.
Is all your strict preciseness67 come to this?
I did imagine what would be her refuge.69
Especially since Charles must father it.
It was Alençon that enjoyed my love.
75 It dies, an75 if it had a thousand lives.
’Twas neither Charles nor yet the duke I named,
But Reignier, King of Naples, that prevailed.78
There were so many, whom she may accuse.
Strumpet, thy words condemn thy brat and thee.
85 Use no entreaty, for it is in vain.
May never glorious sun reflex87 his beams
Upon the country where you make abode:
But darkness and the gloomy shade of death
90 Environ you, till mischief and despair
Drive you to break your necks or hang yourselves!
Exit [guarded]
Thou foul accursèd minister93 of hell!
Enter [Bishop of Winchester, now] Cardinal [attended]
95 With letters of commission95 from the king.
For know, my lords, the states of Christendom,
Moved with remorse97 of these outrageous broils,
Have earnestly implored a general peace
Betwixt our nation and the aspiring99 French,
100 And here at hand the dauphin and his train
Approacheth to confer about some matter.
After the slaughter of so many peers,
So many captains, gentlemen and soldiers,
105 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,
110 Our great progenitors had conquerèd?
O Warwick, Warwick, I foresee with grief
The utter loss of all the realm of France.
It shall be with such strict and severe covenants114
115 As little shall the Frenchmen gain thereby.
Enter Charles, Alençon, Bastard [of Orléans] and Reignier
That peaceful truce shall be proclaimed in France,
We come to be informèd by yourselves
What the conditions of that league must be.
The hollow passage of my poisoned voice,
By sight of these our baleful122 enemies.
That, in regard124 King Henry gives consent,
125 Of mere125 compassion and of lenity,
To ease your country of distressful126 war,
And suffer127 you to breathe in fruitful peace,
You shall become true liegemen128 to his crown.
And, Charles, upon condition thou wilt swear
130 To pay him tribute,130 and submit thyself,
Thou shalt be placed as viceroy under him,
And still enjoy thy regal dignity.
Adorn his temples with a coronet,134
135 And yet in substance and authority
Retain but136 privilege of a private man?
This proffer137 is absurd and reasonless.
With more than half the Gallian139 territories,
140 And therein reverenced for140 their lawful king.
Shall I, for lucre141 of the rest unvanquished,
Detract so much from that prerogative,
As to be called but viceroy of the whole?
No, lord ambassador, I’ll rather keep
145 That which I have than, coveting for more,
Be cast146 from possibility of all.
Used intercession to obtain a league,
And, now the matter grows to compromise,149
150 Stand’st thou aloof upon comparison?150
Either accept the title thou usurp’st,
Of benefit152 proceeding from our king
And not of any challenge of desert,153
Or we will plague thee with incessant wars.
To cavil156 in the course of this contract:
If once it be neglected,157 ten to one
We shall not find like opportunity.
160 To save your subjects from such massacre
And ruthless slaughters as are daily seen
By our proceeding in hostility:
And therefore take this compact163 of a truce,
Although you break it when your pleasure serves.
Only reserved167 you claim no interest
In any of our towns of garrison.168
170 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,174 let your drums be still,
175 For here we entertain175 a solemn peace.
Exeunt
Enter Suffolk in conference with King [Henry VI], Gloucester and Exeter
Of beauteous Margaret hath astonished me:
Her virtues gracèd with external gifts
Do breed love’s settled4 passions in my heart,
5 And like as rigour5 of tempestuous gusts
Provokes6 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.
Is but a preface of her worthy praise:11
The chief perfections of that lovely dame,
Had I sufficient skill to utter them,
Would make a volume of enticing lines,
15 Able to ravish any dull conceit:15
And, which is more, she is not so divine,
So full17 replete with choice of all delights,
But with as humble lowliness18 of mind
She is content to be at your command:
20 Command, I mean, of virtuous chaste intents,
To love and honour Henry as her lord.
Therefore, my Lord Protector, give consent
That Margaret may be England’s royal queen.
You know, my lord, your highness is betrothed
Unto another lady of esteem:27
How shall we then dispense with that contract,28
And not deface your honour with reproach?29
Or one that, at a triumph31 having vowed
To try his strength, forsaketh yet the lists32
By reason of his adversary’s odds.
A poor earl’s daughter is unequal odds,
35 And therefore may be broke35 without offence.
Her father is no better than an earl,
Although in glorious titles he excel.
40 The King of Naples and Jerusalem,
And of such great authority in France
As his alliance will confirm42 our peace
And keep the Frenchmen in allegiance.
45 Because he is near kinsman unto Charles.
Where47 Reignier sooner will receive than give.
That he should be so abject, base and poor,
50 To choose for wealth and not for perfect love.
Henry is able to enrich his queen,
And not to seek a queen to make him rich:
So worthless peasants bargain for their wives,
As market men for oxen, sheep, or horse.
55 Marriage is a matter of more worth
Than to be dealt in by attorneyship:56
Not whom we will,57 but whom his grace affects,
Must be companion of his nuptial bed.
And therefore, lords, since he affects her most,
60 Most of all these reasons bindeth us,
In our opinions she should be preferred.61
For what is wedlock forcèd but a hell,
An age of discord and continual strife?
Whereas the contrary bringeth bliss,
65 And is a pattern65 of celestial peace.
Whom should we match with Henry, being a king,
But Margaret, that is daughter to a king?
Her peerless feature,68 joinèd with her birth,
Approves69 her fit for none but for a king:
70 Her valiant courage and undaunted spirit,
More than in women commonly is seen,
Will answer our hope in issue72 of a king.
For Henry, son unto a conqueror,
Is likely to beget more conquerors,
75 If with a lady of so high resolve,75
As is fair Margaret, he be linked in love.
Then yield, my lords, and here conclude with me
That Margaret shall be queen, and none but she.
80 My noble lord of Suffolk, or for that80
My tender youth was never yet attaint81
With any passion of inflaming love,
I cannot tell: but this I am assured,
I feel such sharp dissension84 in my breast,
85 Such fierce alarums both of hope and fear,
As I am sick with working of my thoughts.
Take therefore shipping: post,87 my lord, to France:
Agree to any covenants, and procure88
That Lady Margaret do vouchsafe to come
90 To cross the seas to England, and be crowned
King Henry’s faithful and anointed91 queen.
For your expenses and sufficient charge,92
Among the people gather up a tenth.93
Be gone, I say, for, till you do return,
95 I rest perplexèd with a thousand cares.
And you, good uncle, banish all offence:96
If you do censure97 me by what you were,
Not what you are, I know it will excuse
This sudden execution of my will.
100 And so conduct me where from company100
I may revolve and ruminate101 my grief.
Exit
Exit [with Exeter]
As did the youthful Paris104 once to Greece,
105 With hope to find the like event105 in love,
But prosper better than the Trojan did:
Margaret shall now be queen, and rule the king:
But I will rule both her, the king, and realm.
Exit
F = First Folio text of 1623, the only authority for the play
F2 = a correction introduced in the Second Folio text of 1632
Ed = a correction introduced by a later editor
SD = stage direction
SH = speech heading (i.e., speaker’s name)
List of parts = Ed
1.1.60 Champaigne = F. Ed = Compiègne Rouen = Ed. Not in F, but implicit in the text 92 dauphin = Ed. F = Dolphin 94 Reignier = Ed. F = Reynold 131 Falstaff = F. Ed = Fastolf 176 steal = Ed. F = send
1.2.21 fly = F. Ed = flee 30 bred = Ed. F = breed 47 SH CHARLES = Ed. F = Dolph. 65 SH PUCELLE = Ed. F = Puzel 99 five = Ed. F = fine
1.3.6 SH FIRST SERVINGMAN = Ed. F = Glost. I. Man. 19 The Cardinal = F. Ed = My lord 29 umpire = F2. F = Vmpheir 30 peeled spelled Piel’d in F 42 scarlet = F. Ed = purple 49 cardinal’s hat = F. Ed = bishop’s mitre 56 scarlet = F. Ed = cloakèd 56 SD [Bishop of Winchester’s] = Ed. F = Cardinalls 73 SH OFFICER = Ed. Not in F 77 Cardinal = F. Ed = Bishop 82 cardinal’s = F. Ed = bishop is
1.4.10 Wont = Ed. F = Went 27 Earl = F. Ed. = Duke 66 lords = F. Ed = Lou 69 SD shoot = Ed. F = shot SD fall = Ed. F = falls 89 Bear…it moved from its position in F two lines before, since the body referred to cannot be that of Salisbury, and must be that of Gargrave 95 Nero = Ed
1.6.21 pyramid = Ed. F = pyramis 22 of = Ed. F = or
2.1.5 SH FIRST SENTINEL = Ed. F = Sent. 80 SD [The French] fly = Ed. F = they flye (F has additional “Exeunt” cue for the French one line above)
2.2.20 Arc = Ed. F = Acre
2.4.0 SD Suffolk = Ed. F = Poole 1 SH RICHARD PLANTAGENET = Ed. F = Yorke 41 are…tree = F. Ed = from the tree are cropped 57 law = Ed. F = you 118 wiped = F2 (wip’t). F = whipt 133 gentles = Ed. F = gentle. Ed = gentle sirs/gentlemen
2.5.33 SH FIRST JAILER = Ed. F = Keeper 71 King = Ed. F2 = K. Not in F 75 the = F2. Not in F 76 the king = Ed. F = hee 129 mine ill = Ed. F = my will
3.1.56 see = F. Ed = so 167 that = Ed. F = that all
4.1.19 Patay = Ed. F = Poictiers. Probably an authorial error, since the battle of Poitiers took place much earlier 48 my = Ed. Not in F SD [Flourish] = Ed. F places in stage direction eight lines later 180 wist = Ed. F = wish
4.2.15 SH GENERAL = Ed. F = Cap. 29 rive = F. Ed = fire
4.3.17 SH LUCY = Ed. F = 2. Mes. 53 lauds = F. Ed = lands
4.4.16 legions = Ed. F = Regions. Suggested compositorial confusion between Shakespeare’s lower-case “l” and “r,” which similarly occurs in other plays 19 in advantage = F. Ed = unadvantaged 31 host = F. Ed = horse
4.7.17 SD Enter…borne = Ed. F places one line earlier 63 Washford = F. Ed = Wexford 89 them = Ed. F = him 94 them = Ed. F = him
Act 5 Scene 1 = Ed. F = Scena secunda
5.2 Scene 2 = Ed. F = Scoena Tertia SD Pucelle = Ed. F = Ione 57 her = Ed. F = his 160 country = F. Ed = countries 185 modestly = F2. F = modestie
5.4.10 an’t = Ed. F = and 37 one = Ed. F = me 49 Arc = Ed. F = Aire 93 SD Enter…Cardinal = Ed. F places two lines earlier
5.5.60 Most = F. Ed. = It most or That most