Kitabı oku: «King Henry VI, First Part», sayfa 6

SCENE V. The English camp near Bordeaux

[Enter Talbot and John his son.]

TALBOT

 
O young John Talbot! I did send for thee
To tutor thee in stratagems of war,
That Talbot's name might be in thee revived
When sapless age and weak unable limbs
Should bring thy father to his drooping chair.
But, O malignant and ill-boding stars!
Now thou art come unto a feast of death,
A terrible and unavoided danger:
Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest horse;
And I'll direct thee how thou shalt escape
By sudden flight: come, dally not, be gone.
 

JOHN

 
Is my name Talbot? and am I your son?
And shall I fly? O, if you love my mother,
Dishonor not her honorable name,
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.
 

TALBOT

 
Fly, to revenge my death, if I be slain.
 

JOHN

 
He that flies so will ne'er return again.
 

TALBOT

 
If we both stay, we both are sure to die.
 

JOHN

 
Then let me stay; and, father, do you fly;
Your 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;
In yours they will, in you all hopes are lost.
Flight cannot stain the honor you have won;
But mine it will, that no exploit have done;
You fled for vantage, every one will swear;
But, if I bow, they 'll say it was for fear.
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,
Rather than life preserved with infamy.
 

TALBOT

 
Shall all thy mother's hopes lie in one tomb?
 

JOHN

 
Aye, rather than I 'll shame my mother's womb.
 

TALBOT

 
Upon my blessing, I command thee go.
 

JOHN

 
To fight I will, but not to fly the foe.
 

TALBOT

 
Part of thy father may be saved in thee.
 

JOHN

 
No part of him but will be shame in me.
 

TALBOT

 
Thou never hadst renown, nor canst not lose it.
 

JOHN

 
Yes, your renowned name: shall flight abuse it?
 

TALBOT

 
Thy father's charge shall clear thee from that stain.
 

JOHN

 
You cannot witness for me, being slain.
If death be so apparent, then both fly.
 

TALBOT

 
And leave my followers here to fight and die;
My age was never tainted with such shame.
 

JOHN

 
And shall my youth be guilty of such blame?
No more can I be sever'd from your side,
Than can yourself yourself in twain divide:
Stay, go, do what you will, the like do I;
For live I will not, if my father die.
 

TALBOT

 
Then here I take my leave of thee, fair son,
Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon.
Come, side by side together live and die;
And soul with soul from France to heaven fly.
 

[Exeunt.]

SCENE VI. A field of battle

[Alarum: excursions, wherein Talbot's Son is hemmed about, and Talbot rescues him.]

TALBOT

 
Saint George and victory; fight, soldiers, fight:
The regent hath with Talbot broke his word,
And left us to the rage of France his sword.
Where is John Talbot? Pause, and take thy breath;
I gave thee life and rescued thee from death.
 

JOHN

 
O, twice my father, twice am I thy son!
The life thou gavest me first was lost and done,
Till with thy warlike sword, despite of fate,
To my determined time thou gavest new date.
 

TALBOT

 
When from the Dauphin's crest thy sword struck fire,
It warm'd thy father's heart with proud desire
Of bold-faced victory. Then leaden age,
Quicken'd with youthful spleen and warlike rage,
Beat down Alencon, Orleans, Burgundy,
And from the pride of Gallia rescued thee.
The ireful bastard Orleans, that drew blood
From thee, my boy, and had the maidenhood
Of thy first fight, I soon encountered,
And interchanging blows I quickly shed
Some of his bastard blood; and in disgrace
Bespoke him thus; 'Contaminated base
And misbegotten blood I spill of thine,
Mean and right poor, for that pure blood of mine,
Which thou didst force from Talbot, my brave boy:'
Here, purposing 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 seal'd the son of chivalry?
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,
To hazard all our lives in one small boat!
If I to-day die not with Frenchmen's rage,
To-morrow I shall die with mickle age:
By me they nothing gain an 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:
All these and more we hazard by thy stay;
All these are saved if thou wilt fly away.
 

JOHN

 
The sword of Orleans hath not made me smart;
These words of yours draw life-blood from my heart:
On that advantage, bought with such a shame,
To save a paltry life and slay bright fame,
Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly,
The coward horse that bears me fall and die!
And like me to the peasant boys of France,
To be shame's scorn and subject of mischance!
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;
If son to Talbot, die at Talbot's foot.
 

TALBOT

 
Then follow thou thy desperate sire of Crete,
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.
 

[Exeunt.]

SCENE VII. Another part of the field

[Alarum: excursions. Enter old Talbot led by a Servant.]

TALBOT

 
Where is my other life? mine own is gone;
O, where's young Talbot? where is valiant John?
Triumphant death, smear'd with captivity,
Young Talbot's valor makes me smile at thee:
When he perceived me shrink and on my knee,
His bloody sword he brandish'd over me,
And, like a hungry lion, did commence
Rough deeds of rage and stern impatience;
But when my angry guardant stood alone,
Tendering my ruin and assail'd of none,
Dizzy-ey'd fury and great rage of heart
Suddenly made him from my side to start
Into the clustering battle of the French;
And in that sea of blood my boy did drench
His over-mounting spirit, and there died,
My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride.
 

SERVANT

 
O my dear lord, lo where your son is borne!
 

[Enter soldiers, with the body of young Talbot.]

TALBOT

 
Thou antic Death, which laugh'st us here to scorn,
Anon, from thy insulting tyranny,
Coupled in bonds of perpetuity,
Two Talbots, winged through the lither sky,
In thy despite shall 'scape mortality.
O thou, whose wounds become hard-favor'd death,
Speak to thy father ere thou yield thy breath!
Brave death by speaking, whether he will or no;
Imagine him a Frenchman and thy foe.
Poor boy! he smiles, methinks, as who should say,
Had death been French, then death had died to-day.
Come, come and lay him in his father's arms:
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, Alencon, Burgundy, Bastard, La Pucelle, and forces.]

CHARLES

 
Had York and Somerset brought rescue in,
We should have found a bloody day of this.
 

BASTARD

 
How the young whelp of Talbot's, raging-wood,
Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood!
 

PUCELLE

 
Once I encounter'd him, and thus I said:
'Thou maiden youth, be vanquish'd by a maid.'
But, with a proud majestical high scorn,
He answer'd thus: 'Young Talbot was not born
To be the pillage of a giglot wench:'
So, rushing in the bowels of the French,
He left me proudly, as unworthy fight.
 

BURGUNDY

 
Doubtless he would have made a noble knight:
See, where he lies inhearsed in the arms
Of the most bloody nurser of his harms!
 

BASTARD

 
Hew them to pieces, hack their bones asunder,
Whose life was England's glory, Gallia's wonder.
 

CHARLES

 
O, no, forbear! for that which we have fled
During the life, let us not wrong it dead.
 

[Enter Sir William Lucy, attended; Herald of the French preceding.]

LUCY

 
Herald, conduct me to the Dauphin's tent,
To know who hath obtain'd the glory of the day.
 

CHARLES

 
On what submissive message art thou sent?
 

LUCY

 
Submission, Dauphin! 'tis a mere French word;
We English warriors wot not what it means.
I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta'en,
And to survey the bodies of the dead.
 

CHARLES

 
For prisoners ask'st thou? hell our prison is.
But tell me whom thou seek'st.
 

LUCY

 
But where's the great Alcides of the field,
Valiant Lord Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury,
Created for his rare success in arms,
Great Earl of Washford, Waterford, and Valence;
Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield,
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,
Worthy Saint Michael, and the Golden Fleece;
Great marshal to Henry the Sixth
Of all his wars within the realm of France?
 

PUCELLE

 
Here's a silly stately style indeed!
The Turk, that two and fifty kingdoms hath,
Writes not so tedious a style as this.
Him that thou magnifiest with all these titles
Stinking and fly-blown lies here at our feet.
 

LUCY

 
Is Talbot slain, the Frenchman's only scourge,
Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis?
O, were mine eye-balls into bullets turn'd,
That I in rage might shoot them at your faces!
O, that I could but can these dead to life!
It were enough to fright the realm of France:
Were but his picture left amongst you here,
It would amaze the proudest of you all.
Give me their bodies, that I may bear them hence
And give them burial as beseems their worth.
 

PUCELLE

 
I think this upstart is old Talbot's ghost,
He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit,
For God's sake, let him have 'em; to keep them here,
They would but stink, and putrify the air.
 

CHARLES

 
Go, take their bodies hence.
 

LUCY

 
I 'll bear them hence; but from their ashes shall be
rear'd
A phoenix that shall make all France afeard.
 

CHARLES

 
So we be rid of them, do with 'em what thou wilt.
And now to Paris, in this conquering vein:
All will be ours, now bloody Talbot's slain.
 

[Exeunt.]

ACT FIFTH

SCENE I. London. The palace

[Sennet. Enter King, Gloucester, and Exeter.]

KING

 
Have you perused the letters from the pope,
The emperor, and the Earl of Armagnac?
 

GLOUCESTER

 
I have, my lord: and their intent is this:
They humbly sue unto your excellence
To have a godly peace concluded of
Between the realms of England and of France.
 

KING

 
How doth your grace affect their motion?
 

GLOUCESTER

 
Well, my good lord; and as the only means
To stop effusion of our Christian blood
And stablish quietness on every side.
 

KING

 
Aye, marry, uncle; for I always thought
It was both impious and unnatural
That such immanity and bloody strife
Should reign among professors of one faith.
 

GLOUCESTER

 
Beside, my lord, the sooner to effect
And surer bind this knot of amity,
The Earl of Armagnac, near knit to Charles,
A man of great authority in France,
Proffers his only daughter to your grace
In marriage, with a large and sumptuous dowry.
 

KING

 
Marriage, uncle! alas, my years are young!
And fitter is my study and my books
Than wanton dalliance with a paramour.
Yet call the ambassadors; and, as you please,
So let them have their answers every one:
I shall be well content with any choice
Tends to God's glory and my country's weal.
 

[Enter Winchester in Cardinal's habit, a Legate and two Ambassadors.]

EXETER

 
What! is my Lord of Winchester install'd
And call'd unto a cardinal's degree?
Then I perceive that will be verified
Henry the Fifth did sometime prophesy,
'If once he come to be a cardinal,
He'll make his cap co-equal with the crown.'
 

KING

 
My lords ambassadors, your several suits
Have been consider'd and debated on.
Your purpose is both good and reasonable;
And therefore are we certainly resolved
To draw conditions of a friendly peace;
Which by my Lord of Winchester we mean
Shall be transported presently to France.
 

GLOUCESTER

 
And for the proffer of my lord your master,
I have inform'd his highness so at large,
As liking of the lady's virtuous gifts,
Her beauty and the value of her dower,
He doth intend she shall be England's Queen.
 

KING

 
In argument and proof of which contract,
Bear her this jewel, pledge of my affection.
And so, my lord protector, see them guarded
And safely brought to Dover; where inshipp'd,
Commit them to the fortune of the sea.
 

[Exeunt all but Winchester and Legate.]

WINCHESTER

 
Stay my lord legate: you shall first receive
The sum of money which I promised
Should be deliver'd to his holiness
For clothing me in these grave ornaments.
LEGATE.
I will attend upon your lordship's leisure.
 

WINCHESTER

 
[Aside] Now Winchester will not submit, I trow,
Or be inferior to the proudest peer.
Humphrey of Gloucester, thou shalt well perceive
That neither in birth or for authority,
The bishop will be overborne by thee:
I 'll either make thee stoop and bend thy knee,
Or sack this country with a mutiny.
 

[Exeunt.]

SCENE II. France. Plains in Anjou

[Enter Charles, Burgundy, Alencon, Bastard, Reignier, La Pucelle, and forces.]

CHARLES

 
These news, my lords, may cheer our drooping spirits:
'Tis said the stout Parisians do revolt
And turn again unto the warlike French.
 

ALENCON

 
Then march to Paris, royal Charles of France,
And keep not back your powers in dalliance.
 

PUCELLE

 
Peace be amongst them, if they turn to us;
Else, ruin combat with their palaces!
 

[Enter Scout.]

SCOUT

 
Success unto our valiant general,
And happiness to his accomplices!
 

CHARLES

 
What tidings send our scouts? I prithee, speak.
 

SCOUT

 
The English army, that divided was
Into two parties, is now conjoin'd in one,
And means to give you battle presently.
 

CHARLES

 
Somewhat too sudden, sirs, the warning is;
But we will presently provide for them.
 

BURGUNDY

 
I trust the ghost of Talbot is not there:
Now he is gone, my lord, you need not fear.
 

PUCELLE

 
Of all base passions, fear is most accursed.
Command the conquest, Charles, it shall be thine,
Let Henry fret and all the world repine.
 

CHARLES

 
Then on, my lords; and France be fortunate!
 

[Exeunt.]

SCENE III. Before Angiers

[Alarum. Excursions. Enter La Pucelle.]

PUCELLE

 
The regent conquers, and the Frenchmen fly.
Now help, ye charming spells and periapts;
And ye choice spirits that admonish me,
And give me signs of future accidents. [Thunder]
You speedy helpers, that are substitutes
Under the lordly monarch of the north,
Appear and aid me in this enterprise.
 

[Enter Fiends.]

 
This speedy and quick appearance argues proof
Of your accustom'd diligence to me.
Now, ye familiar spirits, that are cull'd
Out of the powerful regions under earth,
Help me this once, that France may get the field.
 

[They walk and speak not.]

 
O, hold me not with silence over-long!
Where I was wont to feed you with my blood,
I 'll lop a member off and give it you
In earnest of a further benefit,
So you do condescend to help me now.
 

[They hang their heads.]

 
No hope to have redress? My body shall
Pay recompense, if you will grant my suit.
 

[They shake their heads.]

 
Cannot my body nor blood-sacrifice
Entreat you to your wonted furtherance?
Then take my soul, my body, soul and all,
Before that England give the French the foil.
 

[They depart.]

 
See, they forsake me! Now the time is come
That France must vail her lofty-plumed crest,
And let her head fall into England's lap.
My ancient incantations are too weak,
And hell too strong for me to buckle with:
Now, France, thy glory droopeth to the dust.
 

[Exit.]

[Excursions. Re-enter La Pucelle fighting hand to hand with York: La Pucelle is taken. The French fly.]

YORK

 
Damsel of France, I think I have you fast:
Unchain your spirits now with spelling charms,
And try if they can gain your liberty.
A goodly prize, fit for the devil's grace!
See, how the ugly witch doth bend her brows,
As if with Circe she would change my shape!
 

PUCELLE

 
Chang'd to a worser shape thou canst not be.
 

YORK

 
O, Charles the Dauphin is a proper man;
No shape but his can please your dainty eye.
 

PUCELLE

 
A plaguing mischief light on Charles and thee!
And may ye both be suddenly surprised
By bloody hands, in sleeping on your beds!
 

YORK

 
Fell banning hag; enchantress, hold thy tongue!
 

PUCELLE

 
I prithee, give me leave to curse awhile.
 

YORK

 
Curse, miscreant, when thou comest to the stake.
 

[Exeunt.]

[Alarum. Enter Suffolk, with Margaret in his hand.]

SUFFOLK

 
Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner.
 

[Gazes on her.]

 
O fairest beauty, do not fear nor fly!
For I will touch thee but with reverent hands;
I kiss these fingers for eternal peace,
And lay them gently on thy tender side.
Who art thou? say, that I may honor thee.
 

MARGARET

 
Margaret my name, and daughter to a king,
The King of Naples, whosoe'er thou art.
 

SUFFOLK

 
An earl I am, and Suffolk am I call'd.
Be not offended, nature's miracle,
Thou art allotted to be ta'en by me.
So doth the swan her downy cygnets save,
Keeping them prisoner underneath her wings.
Yet, if this servile usage once offend,
Go and be free again as Suffolk's friend.
 

[She is going.]

 
O, stay! I have no power to let her pass;
My hand would free her, but my heart says no.
As plays the sun upon the glassy streams,
Twinkling another counterfeited beam,
So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes.
Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak:
I'll call for pen and ink, and write my mind.
Fie, de la Pole! disable not thyself;
Hast not a tongue? is she not here?
Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight?
Aye, beauty's princely majesty is such,
Confounds the tongue and makes the senses rough.
 

MARGARET

 
Say, Earl of Suffolk, – if thy name be so —
What ransom must I pay before I pass?
For I perceive I am thy prisoner.
 

SUFFOLK

 
How canst thou tell she will deny thy suit,
Before thou make a trial of her love?
 

MARGARET

 
Why speak'st thou not? what ransom must I pay?
 

SUFFOLK

 
She's beautiful and therefore to be woo'd;
She is a woman, therefore to be won.
 

MARGARET

 
Wilt thou accept of ransom? yea, or no.
 

SUFFOLK

 
Fond man, remember that thou hast a wife;
Then how can Margaret be thy paramour?
 

MARGARET

 
I were best leave him, for he will not hear.
 

SUFFOLK

 
There all is marr'd; there lies a cooling card.
 

MARGARET

 
He talks at random; sure, the man is mad.
 

SUFFOLK

 
And yet a dispensation may be had.
 

MARGARET

 
And yet I would that you would answer me.
 

SUFFOLK

 
I'll win this Lady Margaret. For whom?
Why, for my king; tush, that 's a wooden thing!
 

MARGARET

 
He talks of wood: it is some carpenter.
 

SUFFOLK

 
Yet so my fancy may be satisfied,
And peace established between these realms.
But there remains a scruple in that too;
For though her father be the King of Naples,
Duke of Anjou and Maine, yet is he poor,
And our nobility will scorn the match.
 

MARGARET

 
Hear ye, captain, are you not at leisure?
 

SUFFOLK

 
It shall be so, disdain they ne'er so much:
Henry is youthful and will quickly yield.
Madam, I have a secret to reveal.
 

MARGARET

 
What though I be enthrall'd? he seems a knight,
And will not any way dishonor me.
 

SUFFOLK

 
Lady, vouchsafe to listen what I say.
 

MARGARET

 
Perhaps I shall be rescued by the French;
And then I need not crave his courtesy.
 

SUFFOLK

 
Sweet madam, give me hearing in a cause —
 

MARGARET

 
Tush! women have been captivate ere now.
 

SUFFOLK

 
Lady, wherefore talk you so?
 

MARGARET

 
I cry you mercy, 'tis but Quid for Quo.
 

SUFFOLK

 
Say, gentle princess, would you not suppose
Your bondage happy, to be made a queen?
 

MARGARET

 
To be a queen in bondage is more vile
Than is a slave in base servility;
For princes should be free.
 

SUFFOLK

 
And so shall you,
If happy England's royal king be free.
 

MARGARET

 
Why, what concerns his freedom unto me?
 

SUFFOLK

 
I'll undertake to make thee Henry's queen,
To put a golden scepter in thy hand
And set a precious crown upon thy head,
If thou wilt condescend to be my —
 

MARGARET

 
What?
 

SUFFOLK

 
His love.
 

MARGARET

 
I am unworthy to be Henry's wife.
 

SUFFOLK

 
No, gentle madam; I unworthy am
To woo so fair a dame to be his wife,
And have no portion in the choice myself.
How say you, madam, are ye so content?
 

MARGARET

 
An if my father please, I am content.
 

SUFFOLK

 
Then call our captain and our colors forth.
And, madam, at your father's castle walls
We'll crave a parley, to confer with him.
 

[A parley sounded. Enter Reignier on the walls.]

 
See, Reignier, see, thy daughter prisoner!
 

REIGNIER

 
To whom?
 

SUFFOLK

 
To me.
 

REIGNIER

 
Suffolk, what remedy?
I am a soldier, and unapt to weep,
Or to exclaim on fortune's fickleness.
 

SUFFOLK

 
Yes, there is remedy enough, my lord:
Consent, and for thy honor give consent,
Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king;
Whom I with pain have woo'd and won thereto;
And this her easy-held imprisonment
Hath gain'd thy daughter princely liberty.
 

REIGNIER

 
Speaks Suffolk as he thinks?
 

SUFFOLK

 
Fair Margaret knows
That Suffolk doth not flatter, face, or feign.
 

REIGNIER

 
Upon thy princely warrant, I descend
To give thee answer of thy just demand.
 

[Exit from the walls.]

SUFFOLK

 
And here I will expect thy coming.
 

[Trumpets sound. Enter Reignier, below.]

REIGNIER

 
Welcome, brave earl, into our territories:
Command in Anjou what your honor pleases.
 

SUFFOLK

 
Thanks, Reignier, happy for so sweet a child,
Fit to be made companion with a king:
What answer makes your grace unto my suit?
 

REIGNIER

 
Since thou dost deign to woo her little worth
To be the princely bride of such a lord;
Upon condition I may quietly
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.
 

SUFFOLK

 
That is her ransom; I deliver her;
And those two counties I will undertake
Your Grace shall well and quietly enjoy.
 

REIGNIER

 
And I again, in Henry's royal name,
As deputy unto that gracious king,
Give thee her hand, for sign of plighted faith.
 

SUFFOLK

 
Reignier of France, I give thee kingly thanks,
Because this is in traffic of a king.
[Aside] And yet, methinks, I could be well content
To be mine own attorney in this case.
I 'll over then to England with this news,
And make this marriage to be solemnized.
So, farewell, Reignier; set this diamond safe
In golden palaces, as it becomes.
 

REIGNIER

 
I do embrace thee as I would embrace
The Christian prince, King Henry, were he here.
 

MARGARET

 
Farewell, my lord: good wishes, praise and prayers.
Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret. [Going.
 

SUFFOLK

 
Farewell, sweet madam: but hark you, Margaret;
No princely commendations to my king?
 

MARGARET

 
Such commendations as becomes a maid,
A virgin and his servant, say to him.
 

SUFFOLK

 
Words sweetly placed and modestly directed.
But, madam, I must trouble you again;
No loving token to his majesty?
 

MARGARET

 
Yes, my good lord, a pure unspotted heart,
Never yet taint with love, I send the king.
 

SUFFOLK

 
And this withal. [Kisses her.]
 

MARGARET

 
That for thyself: I will not so presume
To send such peevish tokens to a king.
 

[Exeunt Reignier and Margaret.]

SUFFOLK

 
O, wert thou for myself! But, Suffolk, stay;
Thou mayst not wander in that labyrinth;
There Minotaurs and ugly treasons lurk.
Solicit Henry with her wondrous praise:
Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount,
And natural graces that extinguish art;
Repeat their semblance often on the seas,
That, when thou comest to kneel at Henry's feet,
Thou mayst bereave him of his wits with wonder.
 

[Exit.]