Kitabı oku: «The First Part of Henry the Sixth», sayfa 2

SCENE 4

France. Before Orleans

Enter, on the walls, the MASTER-GUNNER OF ORLEANS and his BOY

 
  MASTER-GUNNER. Sirrah, thou know'st how Orleans is
    besieg'd,
    And how the English have the suburbs won.
 
 
  BOY. Father, I know; and oft have shot at them,
    Howe'er unfortunate I miss'd my aim.
 
 
  MASTER-GUNNER. But now thou shalt not. Be thou rul'd
    by me.
    Chief master-gunner am I of this town;
    Something I must do to procure me grace.
    The Prince's espials have informed me
    How the English, in the suburbs close intrench'd,
    Wont, through a secret grate of iron bars
    In yonder tower, to overpeer the city,
    And thence discover how with most advantage
    They may vex us with shot or with assault.
    To intercept this inconvenience,
    A piece of ordnance 'gainst it I have plac'd;
    And even these three days have I watch'd
    If I could see them. Now do thou watch,
    For I can stay no longer.
    If thou spy'st any, run and bring me word;
    And thou shalt find me at the Governor's. Exit
 
 
  BOY. Father, I warrant you; take you no care;
    I'll never trouble you, if I may spy them. Exit
 

Enter SALISBURY and TALBOT on the turrets, with SIR WILLIAM GLANSDALE, SIR THOMAS GARGRAVE, and others

 
  SALISBURY. Talbot, my life, my joy, again return'd!
    How wert thou handled being prisoner?
    Or by what means got'st thou to be releas'd?
    Discourse, I prithee, on this turret's top.
 
 
  TALBOT. The Earl of Bedford had a prisoner
    Call'd the brave Lord Ponton de Santrailles;
    For him was I exchang'd and ransomed.
    But with a baser man of arms by far
    Once, in contempt, they would have barter'd me;
    Which I disdaining scorn'd, and craved death
    Rather than I would be so vile esteem'd.
    In fine, redeem'd I was as I desir'd.
    But, O! the treacherous Fastolfe wounds my heart
    Whom with my bare fists I would execute,
    If I now had him brought into my power.
 
 
SALISBURY. Yet tell'st thou not how thou wert entertain'd.
 
 
  TALBOT. With scoffs, and scorns, and contumelious taunts,
    In open market-place produc'd they me
    To be a public spectacle to all;
    Here, said they, is the terror of the French,
    The scarecrow that affrights our children so.
    Then broke I from the officers that led me,
    And with my nails digg'd stones out of the ground
    To hurl at the beholders of my shame;
    My grisly countenance made others fly;
    None durst come near for fear of sudden death.
    In iron walls they deem'd me not secure;
    So great fear of my name 'mongst them was spread
    That they suppos'd I could rend bars of steel
    And spurn in pieces posts of adamant;
    Wherefore a guard of chosen shot I had
    That walk'd about me every minute-while;
    And if I did but stir out of my bed,
    Ready they were to shoot me to the heart.
 

Enter the BOY with a linstock

 
  SALISBURY. I grieve to hear what torments you endur'd;
    But we will be reveng'd sufficiently.
    Now it is supper-time in Orleans:
    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 Glansdale,
    Let me have your express opinions
    Where is best place to make our batt'ry next.
 
 
  GARGRAVE. I think at the North Gate; for there stand lords.
 
 
  GLANSDALE. And I here, at the bulwark of the bridge.
 
 
  TALBOT. For aught I see, this city must be famish'd,
    Or with light skirmishes enfeebled.
                     [Here they shoot and SALISBURY and GARGRAVE
                                                      fall down]
 
 
  SALISBURY. O Lord, have mercy on us, wretched sinners!
 
 
  GARGRAVE. O Lord, have mercy on me, woeful man!
 
 
  TALBOT. What chance is this that suddenly hath cross'd us?
    Speak, Salisbury; at least, if thou canst speak.
    How far'st thou, mirror of all martial men?
    One of thy eyes and thy cheek's side struck off!
    Accursed tower! accursed fatal hand
    That hath contriv'd this woeful tragedy!
    In thirteen battles Salisbury o'ercame;
    Henry the Fifth he first train'd to the wars;
    Whilst any trump did sound or drum struck up,
    His sword did ne'er leave striking in the field.
    Yet liv'st thou, Salisbury? Though thy speech doth fail,
    One eye thou hast to look to heaven for grace;
    The sun with one eye vieweth all the world.
    Heaven, be thou gracious to none alive
    If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hands!
    Bear hence his body; I will help to bury it.
    Sir Thomas Gargrave, hast thou any life?
    Speak unto Talbot; nay, look up to him.
    Salisbury, cheer thy spirit with this comfort,
    Thou shalt not die whiles
    He beckons with his hand and smiles on me,
    As who should say 'When I am dead and gone,
    Remember to avenge me on the French.'
    Plantagenet, I will; and like thee, Nero,
    Play on the lute, beholding the towns burn.
    Wretched shall France be only in my name.
                  [Here an alarum, and it thunders and lightens]
    What stir is this? What tumult's in the heavens?
    Whence cometh this alarum and the noise?
 

Enter a MESSENGER

 
  MESSENGER. My lord, my lord, the French have gather'd
    head
    The Dauphin, with one Joan la Pucelle join'd,
    A holy prophetess new risen up,
    Is come with a great power to raise the siege.
                  [Here SALISBURY lifteth himself up and groans]
 
 
  TALBOT. Hear, hear how dying Salisbury doth groan.
    It irks his heart he cannot be reveng'd.
    Frenchmen, I'll be a Salisbury to you.
    Pucelle or puzzel, dolphin or dogfish,
    Your hearts I'll stamp out with my horse's heels
    And make a quagmire of your mingled brains.
    Convey me Salisbury into his tent,
    And then we'll try what these dastard Frenchmen dare.
 

Alarum. Exeunt

SCENE 5

Before Orleans

Here an alarum again, and TALBOT pursueth the DAUPHIN and driveth him. Then enter JOAN LA PUCELLE driving Englishmen before her. Then enter TALBOT

 
  TALBOT. Where is my strength, my valour, and my force?
    Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them;
    A woman clad in armour chaseth them.
 

Enter LA PUCELLE

 
    Here, here she comes. I'll have a bout with thee.
    Devil or devil's dam, I'll conjure thee;
    Blood will I draw on thee-thou art a witch
    And straightway give thy soul to him thou serv'st.
 
 
  PUCELLE. Come, come, 'tis only I that must disgrace thee.
                                               [Here they fight]
 
 
  TALBOT. Heavens, can you suffer hell so to prevail?
    My breast I'll burst with straining of my courage.
    And from my shoulders crack my arms asunder,
    But I will chastise this high minded strumpet.
                                              [They fight again]
 
 
  PUCELLE. Talbot, farewell; thy hour is not yet come.
    I must go victual Orleans forthwith.
[A short alarum; then enter the town with soldiers]
    O'ertake me if thou canst; I scorn thy strength.
    Go, go, cheer up thy hungry starved men;
    Help Salisbury to make his testament.
    This day is ours, as many more shall be. Exit
 
 
  TALBOT. My thoughts are whirled like a potter's wheel;
    I know not where I am nor what I do.
    A witch by fear, not force, like Hannibal,
    Drives back our troops and conquers as she lists.
    So bees with smoke and doves with noisome stench
    Are from their hives and houses driven away.
    They call'd us, for our fierceness, English dogs;
    Now like to whelps we crying run away.
                                                [A short alarum]
    Hark, countrymen! Either renew the fight
    Or tear the lions out of England's coat;
    Renounce your soil, give sheep in lions' stead:
    Sheep run not half so treacherous from the wolf,
    Or horse or oxen from the leopard,
    As you fly from your oft subdued slaves.
                                 [Alarum. Here another skirmish]
    It will not be-retire into your trenches.
    You all consented unto Salisbury's death,
    For none would strike a stroke in his revenge.
    Pucelle is ent'red into Orleans
    In spite of us or aught that we could do.
    O, would I were to die with Salisbury!
    The shame hereof will make me hide my head.
 

Exit TALBOT. Alarum; retreat

SCENE 6

ORLEANS

Flourish. Enter on the walls, LA PUCELLE, CHARLES, REIGNIER, ALENCON, and soldiers

 
  PUCELLE. Advance our waving colours on the walls;
    Rescu'd is Orleans from the English.
    Thus Joan la Pucelle hath perform'd her word.
 
 
  CHARLES. Divinest creature, Astraea's daughter,
    How shall I honour thee for this success?
    Thy promises are like Adonis' gardens,
    That one day bloom'd and fruitful were the next.
    France, triumph in thy glorious prophetess.
    Recover'd is the town of Orleans.
    More blessed hap did ne'er befall our state.
 
 
  REIGNIER. Why ring not out the bells aloud throughout the
    town?
    Dauphin, command the citizens make bonfires
    And feast and banquet in the open streets
    To celebrate the joy that God hath given us.
 
 
  ALENCON. All France will be replete with mirth and joy
    When they shall hear how we have play'd the men.
 
 
  CHARLES. 'Tis Joan, not we, by whom the day is won;
    For which I will divide my crown with her;
    And all the priests and friars in my realm
    Shall in procession sing her endless praise.
    A statelier pyramis 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
    Than the rich jewel'd coffer of Darius,
    Transported shall be at high festivals
    Before the kings and queens of France.
    No longer on Saint Denis will we cry,
    But Joan la Pucelle shall be France's saint.
    Come in, and let us banquet royally
    After this golden day of victory. Flourish. Exeunt
 

ACT II.

SCENE 1

Before Orleans

Enter a FRENCH SERGEANT and two SENTINELS

 
  SERGEANT. Sirs, take your places and be vigilant.
    If any noise or soldier you perceive
    Near to the walls, by some apparent sign
    Let us have knowledge at the court of guard.
 
 
 FIRST SENTINEL. Sergeant, you shall. [Exit SERGEANT]
    Thus are poor servitors,
    When others sleep upon their quiet beds,
    Constrain'd to watch in darkness, rain, and cold.
 

Enter TALBOT, BEDFORD, BURGUNDY, and forces, with scaling-ladders; their drums beating a dead march

 
  TALBOT. Lord Regent, and redoubted Burgundy,
    By whose approach the regions of Artois,
    Wallon, and Picardy, are friends to us,
    This happy night the Frenchmen are secure,
    Having all day carous'd and banqueted;
    Embrace we then this opportunity,
    As fitting best to quittance their deceit,
    Contriv'd by art and baleful sorcery.
 
 
  BEDFORD. Coward of France, how much he wrongs his fame,
    Despairing of his own arm's fortitude,
    To join with witches and the help of hell!
 
 
  BURGUNDY. Traitors have never other company.
    But what's that Pucelle whom they term so pure?
 
 
  TALBOT. A maid, they say.
 
 
  BEDFORD. A maid! and be so martial!
 
 
  BURGUNDY. Pray God she prove not masculine ere long,
    If underneath the standard of the French
    She carry armour as she hath begun.
 
 
  TALBOT. Well, let them practise and converse with spirits:
    God is our fortress, in whose conquering name
    Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks.
 
 
  BEDFORD. Ascend, brave Talbot; we will follow thee.
 
 
  TALBOT. Not all together; better far, I guess,
    That we do make our entrance several ways;
    That if it chance the one of us do fail
    The other yet may rise against their force.
 
 
  BEDFORD. Agreed; I'll to yond corner.
 
 
  BURGUNDY. And I to this.
 
 
  TALBOT. And here will Talbot mount or make his grave.
    Now, Salisbury, for thee, and for the right
    Of English Henry, shall this night appear
    How much in duty I am bound to both.
             [The English scale the walls and cry 'Saint George!
                                                     a Talbot!']
 
 
    SENTINEL. Arm! arm! The enemy doth make assault.
 

The French leap o'er the walls in their shirts.

Enter, several ways, BASTARD, ALENCON, REIGNIER, half ready and half unready

 
  ALENCON. How now, my lords? What, all unready so?
 
 
  BASTARD. Unready! Ay, and glad we 'scap'd so well.
 
 
  REIGNIER. 'Twas time, I trow, to wake and leave our beds,
    Hearing alarums at our chamber doors.
 
 
  ALENCON. Of all exploits since first I follow'd arms
Ne'er heard I of a warlike enterprise
    More venturous or desperate than this.
  BASTARD. I think this Talbot be a fiend of hell.
  REIGNIER. If not of hell, the heavens, sure, favour him
  ALENCON. Here cometh Charles; I marvel how he sped.
 

Enter CHARLES and LA PUCELLE

 
  BASTARD. Tut! holy Joan was his defensive guard.
 
 
  CHARLES. Is this thy cunning, thou deceitful dame?
    Didst thou at first, to flatter us withal,
    Make us partakers of a little gain
    That now our loss might be ten times so much?
 
 
  PUCELLE. Wherefore is Charles impatient with his friend?
    At all times will you have my power alike?
    Sleeping or waking, must I still prevail
    Or will you blame and lay the fault on me?
    Improvident soldiers! Had your watch been good
    This sudden mischief never could have fall'n.
 
 
  CHARLES. Duke of Alencon, this was your default
    That, being captain of the watch to-night,
    Did look no better to that weighty charge.
 
 
  ALENCON. Had all your quarters been as safely kept
    As that whereof I had the government,
    We had not been thus shamefully surpris'd.
 
 
  BASTARD. Mine was secure.
 
 
  REIGNIER. And so was mine, my lord.
 
 
  CHARLES. And, for myself, most part of all this night,
    Within her quarter and mine own precinct
    I was employ'd in passing to and fro
    About relieving of the sentinels.
    Then how or which way should they first break in?
 
 
  PUCELLE. Question, my lords, no further of the case,
    How or which way; 'tis sure they found some place
    But weakly guarded, where the breach was made.
    And now there rests no other shift but this
    To gather our soldiers, scatter'd and dispers'd,
    And lay new platforms to endamage them.
 

Alarum. Enter an ENGLISH SOLDIER, crying

'A Talbot! A Talbot!' They fly, leaving their clothes behind

 
  SOLDIER. I'll be so bold to take what they have left.
    The cry of Talbot serves me for a sword;
    For I have loaden me with many spoils,
    Using no other weapon but his name. Exit
 

SCENE 2

ORLEANS. Within the town

Enter TALBOT, BEDFORD, BURGUNDY, a CAPTAIN, and others

 
  BEDFORD. The day begins to break, and night is fled
    Whose pitchy mantle over-veil'd the earth.
    Here sound retreat and cease our hot pursuit.
                                               [Retreat sounded]
 
 
  TALBOT. Bring forth the body of old Salisbury
    And here advance it in the market-place,
    The middle centre of this cursed town.
    Now have I paid my vow unto his soul;
    For every drop of blood was drawn from him
    There hath at least five Frenchmen died to-night.
    And that hereafter ages may behold
    What ruin happened in revenge of him,
    Within their chiefest temple I'll erect
    A tomb, wherein his corpse shall be interr'd;
    Upon the which, that every one may read,
    Shall be engrav'd the sack of Orleans,
    The treacherous manner of his mournful death,
    And what a terror he had been to France.
    But, lords, in all our bloody massacre,
    I muse we met not with the Dauphin's grace,
    His new-come champion, virtuous Joan of Arc,
    Nor any of his false confederates.
 
 
  BEDFORD. 'Tis thought, Lord Talbot, when the fight began,
    Rous'd on the sudden from their drowsy beds,
    They did amongst the troops of armed men
    Leap o'er the walls for refuge in the field.
 
 
  BURGUNDY. Myself, as far as I could well discern
    For smoke and dusky vapours of the night,
    Am sure I scar'd the Dauphin and his trull,
    When arm in arm they both came swiftly running,
    Like to a pair of loving turtle-doves
    That could not live asunder day or night.
    After that things are set in order here,
    We'll follow them with all the power we have.
 

Enter a MESSENGER

 
  MESSENGER. All hail, my lords! Which of this princely train
    Call ye the warlike Talbot, for his acts
    So much applauded through the realm of France?
 
 
  TALBOT. Here is the Talbot; who would speak with him?
 
 
  MESSENGER. The virtuous lady, Countess of Auvergne,
    With modesty admiring thy renown,
    By me entreats, great lord, thou wouldst vouchsafe
    To visit her poor castle where she lies,
    That she may boast she hath beheld the man
    Whose glory fills the world with loud report.
 
 
  BURGUNDY. Is it even so? Nay, then I see our wars
    Will turn into a peaceful comic sport,
    When ladies crave to be encount'red with.
    You may not, my lord, despise her gentle suit.
 
 
  TALBOT. Ne'er trust me then; for when a world of men
    Could not prevail with all their oratory,
    Yet hath a woman's kindness overrul'd;
    And therefore tell her I return great thanks
    And in submission will attend on her.
    Will not your honours bear me company?
 
 
  BEDFORD. No, truly; 'tis more than manners will;
    And I have heard it said unbidden guests
    Are often welcomest when they are gone.
 
 
  TALBOT. Well then, alone, since there's no remedy,
    I mean to prove this lady's courtesy.
    Come hither, Captain. [Whispers] You perceive my mind?
 
 
  CAPTAIN. I do, my lord, and mean accordingly. Exeunt
 

SCENE 3

AUVERGNE. The Castle

Enter the COUNTESS and her PORTER

 
  COUNTESS. Porter, remember what I gave in charge;
    And when you have done so, bring the keys to me.
 
 
  PORTER. Madam, I will.
 
 
  COUNTESS. The plot is laid; if all things fall out right,
    I shall as famous be by this exploit.
    As Scythian Tomyris by Cyrus' death.
    Great is the rumour of this dreadful knight,
    And his achievements of no less account.
    Fain would mine eyes be witness with mine ears
    To give their censure of these rare reports.
 

Enter MESSENGER and TALBOT.

 
  MESSENGER. Madam, according as your ladyship desir'd,
    By message crav'd, so is Lord Talbot come.
 
 
  COUNTESS. And he is welcome. What! is this the man?
 
 
  MESSENGER. Madam, it is.
 
 
  COUNTESS. Is this the scourge of France?
    Is this Talbot, so much fear'd abroad
    That with his name the mothers still their babes?
    I see report is fabulous and false.
    I thought I should have seen some Hercules,
    A second Hector, for his grim aspect
    And large proportion of his strong-knit limbs.
    Alas, this is a child, a silly dwarf!
    It cannot be this weak and writhled shrimp
    Should strike such terror to his enemies.
 
 
  TALBOT. Madam, I have been bold to trouble you;
    But since your ladyship is not at leisure,
    I'll sort some other time to visit you. [Going]
 
 
  COUNTESS. What means he now? Go ask him whither he
    goes.
 
 
  MESSENGER. Stay, my Lord Talbot; for my lady craves
    To know the cause of your abrupt departure.
 
 
  TALBOT. Marry, for that she's in a wrong belief,
    I go to certify her Talbot's here.
 

Re-enter PORTER With keys

 
  COUNTESS. If thou be he, then art thou prisoner.
 
 
  TALBOT. Prisoner! To whom?
 
 
  COUNTESS. To me, blood-thirsty lord
    And for that cause I train'd thee to my house.
    Long time thy shadow hath been thrall to me,
    For in my gallery thy picture hangs;
    But now the substance shall endure the like
    And I will chain these legs and arms of thine
    That hast by tyranny these many years
    Wasted our country, slain our citizens,
    And sent our sons and husbands captivate.
 
 
  TALBOT. Ha, ha, ha!
 
 
  COUNTESS. Laughest thou, wretch? Thy mirth shall turn to
    moan.
 
 
  TALBOT. I laugh to see your ladyship so fond
    To think that you have aught but Talbot's shadow
    Whereon to practise your severity.
 
 
  COUNTESS. Why, art not thou the man?
 
 
  TALBOT. I am indeed.
 
 
  COUNTESS. Then have I substance too.
 
 
  TALBOT. No, no, I am but shadow of myself.
    You are deceiv'd, my substance is not here;
    For what you see is but the smallest part
    And least proportion of humanity.
    I tell you, madam, were the whole frame here,
    It is of such a spacious lofty pitch
    Your roof were not sufficient to contain 't.
 
 
  COUNTESS. This is a riddling merchant for the nonce;
    He will be here, and yet he is not here.
    How can these contrarieties agree?
 
 
  TALBOT. That will I show you presently.
 
 
                   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?
    These are his substance, sinews, arms, and strength,
    With which he yoketh your rebellious necks,
    Razeth your cities, and subverts your towns,
    And in a moment makes them desolate.
 
 
  COUNTESS. Victorious Talbot! pardon my abuse.
    I find thou art no less than fame hath bruited,
    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 entertain thee as thou art.
 
 
  TALBOT. Be not dismay'd, fair lady; nor misconster
    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
    But only, with your patience, that we may
    Taste of your wine and see what cates you have,
    For soldiers' stomachs always serve them well.
 
 
  COUNTESS. With all my heart, and think me honoured
    To feast so great a warrior in my house. Exeunt