The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, William Shakespeare [book recommendations based on other books txt] 📗

>KING HENRY. Stain to thy countrymen, thou hear’st thy doom.

Be packing, therefore, thou that wast a knight; Henceforth we banish thee on pain of death.

Exit FASTOLFE

And now, my Lord Protector, view the letter Sent from our uncle Duke of Burgundy.

GLOUCESTER. [Viewing the superscription] What means his Grace, that he hath chang’d his style?

No more but plain and bluntly ‘To the King!’

Hath he forgot he is his sovereign?

Or doth this churlish superscription

Pretend some alteration in goodwill?

What’s here? [Reads] ‘I have, upon especial cause, Mov’d with compassion of my country’s wreck, Together with the pitiful complaints

Of such as your oppression feeds upon, Forsaken your pernicious faction,

And join’d 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?

KING HENRY. What! Doth my uncle Burgundy revolt?

GLOUCESTER. He doth, my lord, and is become your foe.

KING HENRY. Is that the worst this letter doth contain?

GLOUCESTER. It is the worst, and all, my lord, he writes.

KING HENRY. Why then Lord Talbot there shall talk with him

And give him chastisement for this abuse.

How say you, my lord, are you not content?

TALBOT. Content, my liege! Yes; but that I am prevented, I should have begg’d I might have been employ’d.

KING HENRY. Then gather strength and march unto him straight;

Let him perceive how ill we brook his treason.

And what offence it is to flout his friends.

TALBOT. I go, my lord, in heart desiring still You may behold confusion of your foes. Exit Enter VERNON and BASSET

 

VERNON. Grant me the combat, gracious sovereign.

BASSET. And me, my lord, grant me the combat too.

YORK. This is my servant: hear him, noble Prince.

SOMERSET. And this is mine: sweet Henry, favour him.

KING HENRY. Be patient, lords, and give them leave to speak.

Say, gentlemen, what makes you thus exclaim, And wherefore crave you combat, or with whom?

VERNON. With him, my lord; for he hath done me wrong.

BASSET. And I with him; for he hath done me wrong.

KING HENRY. What is that wrong whereof you both complain? First let me know, and then I’ll answer you.

BASSET. Crossing the sea from England into France, This fellow here, with envious carping tongue, Upbraided me about the rose I wear,

Saying the sanguine colour of the leaves Did represent my master’s blushing cheeks When stubbornly he did repugn the truth About a certain question in the law

Argu’d betwixt the Duke of York and him; With other vile and ignominious terms In confutation of which rude reproach And in defence of my lord’s worthiness, I crave the benefit of law of arms.

VERNON. And that is my petition, noble lord; For though he seem with forged quaint conceit To set a gloss upon his bold intent,

Yet know, my lord, I was provok’d by him, And he first took exceptions at this badge, Pronouncing that the paleness of this flower Bewray’d the faintness of my master’s heart.

YORK. Will not this malice, Somerset, be left?

SOMERSET. Your private grudge, my Lord of York, will out, Though ne’er so cunningly you smother it.

KING HENRY. Good Lord, what madness rules in brainsick men, When for so slight and frivolous a cause Such factious emulations shall arise!

Good cousins both, of York and Somerset, Quiet yourselves, I pray, and be at peace.

YORK. Let this dissension first be tried by fight, And then your Highness shall command a peace.

SOMERSET. The quarrel toucheth none but us alone; Betwixt ourselves let us decide it then.

YORK. There is my pledge; accept it, Somerset.

VERNON. Nay, let it rest where it began at first.

BASSET. Confirm it so, mine honourable lord.

GLOUCESTER. Confirm it so? Confounded be your strife; And perish ye, with your audacious prate!

Presumptuous vassals, are you not asham’d With this immodest 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, Much less to take occasion from their mouths To raise a mutiny betwixt yourselves.

Let me persuade you take a better course.

EXETER. It grieves his Highness. Good my lords, be friends.

KING HENRY. Come hither, you that would be combatants: 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 And that within ourselves we disagree, How will their grudging stomachs be provok’d To wilful disobedience, and rebel!

Beside, what infamy will there arise

When foreign princes shall be certified That for a toy, a thing of no regard, King Henry’s peers and chief nobility Destroy’d themselves and lost the realm of France!

O, think upon the conquest of my father, My tender years; and let us not forgo That for a trifle that was bought with blood!

Let me be umpire in this doubtful strife.

I see no reason, if I wear this rose, [Putting on a red rose]

That any one should therefore be suspicious I more incline to Somerset than York: Both are my kinsmen, and I love them both.

As well they may upbraid me with my crown, Because, forsooth, the King of Scots is crown’d.

But your discretions better can persuade Than I am able to instruct or teach;

And, therefore, as we hither came in peace, So let us still continue peace and love.

Cousin of York, we institute your Grace To be our Regent in these parts of France.

And, good my Lord of Somerset, unite

Your troops of horsemen with his bands of foot; And like true subjects, sons of your progenitors, Go cheerfully together and digest

Your angry choler on your enemies.

Ourself, my Lord Protector, and the rest, After some respite will return to Calais; From thence to England, where I hope ere long To be presented by your victories

With Charles, Alencon, and that traitorous rout.

Flourish. Exeunt all but YORK, WARWICK, EXETER, VERNON

WARWICK. My Lord of York, I promise you, the King Prettily, methought, did play the orator.

YORK. And so he did; but yet I like it not, In that he wears the badge of Somerset.

WARWICK. Tush, that was but his fancy; blame him not; I dare presume, sweet prince, he thought no harm.

YORK. An if I wist he did-but let it rest; Other affairs must now be managed.

Exeunt all but EXETER

EXETER. Well didst thou, Richard, to suppress thy voice; For had the passions of thy heart burst out, I fear we should have seen decipher’d there More rancorous spite, more furious raging broils, Than yet can be imagin’d or suppos’d.

But howsoe’er, no simple man that sees This jarring discord of nobility,

This shouldering of each other in the court, This factious bandying of their favourites, But that it doth presage some ill event.

‘Tis much when sceptres are in children’s hands; But more when envy breeds unkind division: There comes the ruin, there begins confusion. Exit

SCENE 2.

 

France. Before Bordeaux Enter TALBOT, with trump and drum TALBOT. Go to the gates of Bordeaux, trumpeter; Summon their general unto the wall.

 

Trumpet sounds a parley. Enter, aloft, the GENERAL OF THE FRENCH, and others English John Talbot, Captains, calls you forth, Servant in arms to Harry King of England; And thus he would open your city gates, Be humble to us, call my sovereignvours And do him homage as obedient subjects, And I’ll withdraw me and my bloody power; But if you frown upon this proffer’d peace, You tempt the fury of my three attendants, Lean famine, quartering steel, and climbing fire; Who in a moment even with the earth

Shall lay your stately and air braving towers, If you forsake the offer of their love.

GENERAL OF THE FRENCH. Thou ominous and fearful owl of death,

Our nation’s terror and their bloody scourge!

The period of thy tyranny approacheth.

On us thou canst not enter but by death; For, I protest, we are well fortified, And strong enough to issue out and fight.

If thou retire, the Dauphin, well appointed, Stands with the snares of war to tangle thee.

On either hand thee there are squadrons pitch’d To wall thee from the liberty of flight, And no way canst thou turn thee for redress But death doth front thee with apparent spoil And pale destruction meets thee in the face.

Ten thousand French have ta’en the sacrament To rive their dangerous artillery

Upon no Christian soul but English Talbot.

Lo, there thou stand’st, a breathing valiant man, Of an invincible unconquer’d spirit!

This is the latest glory of thy praise That I, thy enemy, due thee withal;

For ere the glass that now begins to run Finish the process of his sandy hour, These eyes that see thee now well coloured Shall see thee withered, bloody, pale, and dead.

[Drum afar off]

Hark! hark! The Dauphin’s drum, a warning bell, Sings heavy music to thy timorous soul; And mine shall ring thy dire departure out. Exit TALBOT. He fables not; I hear the enemy.

Out, some light horsemen, and peruse their wings.

O, negligent and heedless discipline!

How are we park’d and bounded in a pale A little herd of England’s timorous deer, Maz’d with a yelping kennel of French curs!

If we be English deer, be then in blood; Not rascal-like to fall down with a pinch, But rather, moody-mad and desperate stags, Turn on the bloody hounds with heads of steel And make the cowards stand aloof at bay.

Sell every man his life as dear as mine, And they shall find dear deer of us, my friends.

God and Saint George, Talbot and England’s right, Prosper our colours in this dangerous fight! Exeunt

SCENE 3.

 

Plains in Gascony

 

Enter YORK, with trumpet and many soldiers. A MESSENGER meets him

 

YORK. Are not the speedy scouts return’d again That dogg’d the mighty army of the Dauphin?

MESSENGER. They are return’d, my lord, and give it out That he is march’d to Bordeaux with his power To fight with Talbot; as he march’d along, By your espials were discovered

Two mightier troops than that the Dauphin led, Which join’d with him and made their march for Bordeaux.

YORK. A plague upon that villain Somerset That thus delays my promised supply

Of horsemen that were levied for this siege!

Renowned Talbot doth expect my aid,

And I am louted by a traitor villain

And cannot help the noble chevalier.

God comfort him in this necessity!

If he miscarry, farewell wars in France.

 

Enter SIR WILLIAM LUCY

 

LUCY. Thou princely leader of our English strength, Never so needful on the earth of France, Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot, Who now is girdled with a waist of iron And hemm’d about with grim destruction.

To Bordeaux, warlike Duke! to Bordeaux, York!

Else, farewell Talbot, France, and England’s honour.

YORK. O God, that Somerset, who in proud heart Doth stop 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 remiss traitors sleep.

LUCY. O, send some succour to the distress’d lord!

YORK. He dies; we lose; I break my warlike word.

We mourn: France smiles. We lose: they daily get-All long of this vile traitor Somerset.

LUCY. Then God take mercy on brave Talbot’s soul, 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.

YORK. Alas, what joy shall noble Talbot have