Shakespeare's First Folio Part 356

Burg. Speake on, but be not ouer-tedious

Pucell. Looke on thy Country, look on fertile France, And see the Cities and the Townes defac't, By wasting Ruine of the cruell Foe, As lookes the Mother on her lowly Babe, When Death doth close his tender-dying Eyes.

See, see the pining Maladie of France: Behold the Wounds, the most vnnaturall Wounds, Which thou thy selfe hast giuen her wofull Brest.

Oh turne thy edged Sword another way, Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that helpe: One drop of Blood drawne from thy Countries Bosome, Should grieue thee more then streames of forraine gore.

Returne thee therefore with a floud of Teares, And wash away thy Countries stayned Spots

Burg. Either she hath bewitcht me with her words, Or Nature makes me suddenly relent

Pucell. Besides, all French and France exclaimes on thee, Doubting thy Birth and lawfull Progenie.

Who ioyn'st thou with, but with a Lordly Nation, That will not trust thee, but for profits sake?

When Talbot hath set footing once in France, And fas.h.i.+on'd thee that Instrument of Ill, Who then, but English Henry, will be Lord, And thou be thrust out, like a Fugitiue?

Call we to minde, and marke but this for proofe: Was not the Duke of Orleance thy Foe?

And was he not in England Prisoner?

But when they heard he was thine Enemie, They set him free, without his Ransome pay'd, In spight of Burgonie and all his friends.

See then, thou fight'st against thy Countreymen, And ioyn'st with them will be thy slaughter-men.

Come, come, returne; returne thou wandering Lord, Charles and the rest will take thee in their armes

Burg. I am vanquished: These haughtie wordes of hers Haue batt'red me like roaring Cannon-shot, And made me almost yeeld vpon my knees.

Forgiue me Countrey, and sweet Countreymen: And Lords accept this heartie kind embrace.

My Forces and my Power of Men are yours.

So farwell Talbot, Ile no longer trust thee

Pucell. Done like a Frenchman: turne and turne againe

Charles. Welcome braue Duke, thy friends.h.i.+p makes vs fresh

b.a.s.t.a.r.d. And doth beget new Courage in our b.r.e.a.s.t.s

Alans. Pucell hath brauely play'd her part in this, And doth deserue a Coronet of Gold

Charles. Now let vs on, my Lords, And ioyne our Powers, And seeke how we may preiudice the Foe.

Exeunt.

Scoena Quarta.

Enter the King, Gloucester, Winchester, Yorke, Suffolke, Somerset, Warwicke, Exeter: To them, with his Souldiors, Talbot.

Talb. My gracious Prince, and honorable Peeres, Hearing of your arriuall in this Realme, I haue a while giuen Truce vnto my Warres, To doe my dutie to my Soueraigne.

In signe whereof, this Arme, that hath reclaym'd To your obedience, fiftie Fortresses, Twelue Cities, and seuen walled Townes of strength, Beside fiue hundred Prisoners of esteeme; Lets fall his Sword before your Highnesse feet: And with submissiue loyaltie of heart Ascribes the Glory of his Conquest got, First to my G.o.d, and next vnto your Grace

King. Is this the Lord Talbot, Vnckle Gloucester, That hath so long beene resident in France?

Glost. Yes, if it please your Maiestie, my Liege

King. Welcome braue Captaine, and victorious Lord.

When I was young (as yet I am not old) I doe remember how my Father said, A stouter Champion neuer handled Sword.

Long since we were resolued of your truth, Your faithfull seruice, and your toyle in Warre: Yet neuer haue you tasted our Reward, Or beene reguerdon'd with so much as Thanks, Because till now, we neuer saw your face.

Therefore stand vp, and for these good deserts, We here create you Earle of Shrewsbury, And in our Coronation take your place.

Senet. Flourish. Exeunt.

Manet Vernon and Ba.s.set.

Vern. Now Sir, to you that were so hot at Sea, Disgracing of these Colours that I weare, In honor of my n.o.ble Lord of Yorke Dar'st thou maintaine the former words thou spak'st?

Ba.s.s. Yes Sir, as well as you dare patronage The enuious barking of your sawcie Tongue, Against my Lord the Duke of Somerset

Vern. Sirrha, thy Lord I honour as he is

Ba.s.s. Why, what is he? as good a man as Yorke

Vern. Hearke ye: not so: in witnesse take ye that.

Strikes him.

Ba.s.s. Villaine, thou knowest The Law of Armes is such, That who so drawes a Sword, 'tis present death, Or else this Blow should broach thy dearest Bloud.

But Ile vnto his Maiestie, and craue, I may haue libertie to venge this Wrong, When thou shalt see, Ile meet thee to thy cost

Vern. Well miscreant, Ile be there as soone as you, And after meete you, sooner then you would.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter King, Glocester, Winchester, Yorke, Suffolke, Somerset, Warwicke, Talbot, and Gouernor Exeter.

Glo. Lord Bishop set the Crowne vpon his head

Win. G.o.d saue King Henry of that name the sixt

Glo. Now Gouernour of Paris take your oath, That you elect no other King but him; Esteeme none Friends, but such as are his Friends, And none your Foes, but such as shall pretend Malicious practises against his State: This shall ye do, so helpe you righteous G.o.d.

Enter Falstaffe.

Fal. My gracious Soueraigne, as I rode from Calice, To haste vnto your Coronation: A Letter was deliuer'd to my hands, Writ to your Grace, from th' Duke of Burgundy

Tal. Shame to the Duke of Burgundy, and thee: I vow'd (base Knight) when I did meete the next, To teare the Garter from thy Crauens legge, Which I haue done, because (vnworthily) Thou was't installed in that High Degree.

Pardon me Princely Henry, and the rest: This Dastard, at the battell of Poictiers, When (but in all) I was sixe thousand strong, And that the French were almost ten to one, Before we met, or that a stroke was giuen, Like to a trustie Squire, did run away.

In which a.s.sault, we lost twelue hundred men.

My selfe, and diuers Gentlemen beside, Were there surpriz'd, and taken prisoners.

Then iudge (great Lords) if I haue done amisse: Or whether that such Cowards ought to weare This Ornament of Knighthood, yea or no?

Glo. To say the truth, this fact was infamous, And ill beseeming any common man; Much more a Knight, a Captaine, and a Leader

Tal. When first this Order was ordain'd my Lords, Knights of the Garter were of n.o.ble birth; Valiant, and Vertuous, full of haughtie Courage, Such as were growne to credit by the warres: Not fearing Death, nor shrinking for Distresse, But alwayes resolute, in most extreames.

He then, that is not furnish'd in this sort, Doth but vsurpe the Sacred name of Knight, Prophaning this most Honourable Order, And should (if I were worthy to be Iudge) Be quite degraded, like a Hedge-borne Swaine, That doth presume to boast of Gentle blood

K. Staine to thy Countrymen, thou hear'st thy doom: Be packing therefore, thou that was't a knight: Henceforth we banish thee on paine of death.