Henry VI, Part I, William Shakespeare [classic books to read TXT] 📗

Henry VI, Part I

By William Shakespeare.

Table of Contents Titlepage Imprint Dramatis Personae Henry VI, Part I Act I Scene I Scene II Scene III Scene IV Scene V Scene VI Act II Scene I Scene II Scene III Scene IV Scene V Act III Scene I Scene II Scene III Scene IV Act IV Scene I Scene II Scene III Scene IV Scene V Scene VI Scene VII Act V Scene I Scene II Scene III Scene IV Scene V Colophon Uncopyright Imprint

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Dramatis Personae

King Henry the Sixth

Mayor of London

Duke of Gloucester, uncle to the King, and Protector

Duke of Bedford, uncle to the King, and Regent of France

Thomas Beaufort, Duke of Exeter, great-uncle to the King

Henry Beaufort, great-uncle to the King, Bishop of Winchester, and afterwards Cardinal

John Beaufort, Earl, afterwards Duke, of Somerset

Richard Plantagenet, son of Richard late Earl of Cambridge, afterwards Duke of York

Earl of Warwick

Earl of Salisbury

Earl of Suffolk

Lord Talbot, afterwards Earl of Shrewsbury

John Talbot, his son

Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March

Sir John Fastolfe

Sir William Lucy

Sir William Glansdale

Sir Thomas Gargrave

Mayor of London

Woodvile, Lieutenant of the Tower

Vernon, of the White-Rose or York faction

Basset, of the Red-Rose or Lancaster faction

A lawyer

Mortimer’s Keepers

Charles, Dauphin, and afterwards King, of France

Reignier, Duke of Anjou, and titular King of Naples

Duke of Burgundy

Duke of Alençon

Bastard of Orleans

Governor of Paris

Master-Gunner of Orleans, and his son

General of the French forces in Bourdeaux

A French Sergeant

A Porter

An old shepherd, father to Joan la Pucelle

Margaret, daughter to Reignier, afterwards married to King Henry

Countess of Auvergne

Joan la Pucelle, commonly called Joan of Arc

Lords, warders of the tower, heralds, officers, soldiers, messengers, and attendants

Fiends appearing to La Pucelle

Scene: Partly in England, and partly in France.

Henry VI, Part I Act I Scene I

Westminster Abbey.

Dead March. Enter the Funeral of King Henry the Fifth, attended on by Duke of Bedford, Regent of France; Duke of Gloucester, Protector; the Duke of Exeter, the Earl of Warwick, the Bishop of Winchester, Heralds, etc. Bedford

Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night!
Comets, importing change of times and states,
Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky,
And with them scourge the bad revolting stars
That have consented unto Henry’s death!
King Henry the Fifth, too famous to live long!
England ne’er lost a king of so much worth.

Gloucester

England ne’er had a king until his time.
Virtue he had, deserving to command:
His brandish’d sword did blind men with his beams:
His arms spread wider than a dragon’s wings;
His sparking eyes, replete with wrathful fire,
More dazzled and drove back his enemies
Than mid-day sun fierce bent against their faces
What should I say? his deeds exceed all speech:
He ne’er lift up his hand but conquered.

Exeter

We mourn in black: why mourn we not in blood?
Henry is dead and never shall revive:
Upon a wooden coffin we attend,
And death’s dishonourable victory
We with our stately presence glorify,
Like captives bound to a triumphant car.
What! shall we curse the planets of mishap
That plotted thus our glory’s overthrow?
Or shall we think the subtle-witted French
Conjurers and sorcerers, that afraid of him
By magic verses have contrived his end?

Winchester

He was a king bless’d of the King of kings.
Unto the French the dreadful judgement-day
So dreadful will not be as was his sight.
The battles of the Lord of hosts he fought:
The church’s prayers made him so prosperous.

Gloucester

The church! where is it? Had not churchmen pray’d,
His thread of life had not so soon decay’d:
None do you like but an effeminate prince,
Whom, like a school-boy, you may over-awe.

Winchester

Gloucester, whate’er we like, thou art protector
And lookest to command the prince and realm.
Thy wife is proud; she holdeth thee in awe,
More than God or religious churchmen may.

Gloucester

Name not religion, for thou lovest the flesh,
And ne’er throughout the year to church thou go’st
Except it be to pray against thy foes.

Bedford

Cease, cease these jars and rest your minds in peace:
Let’s to the altar: heralds, wait on us:
Instead of gold, we’ll offer up our arms;
Since arms avail not now that Henry’s dead.
Posterity, await for wretched years,
When at their mothers’ moist eyes babes shall suck,
Our isle be made a nourish of salt tears,
And none but women left to wail the dead.
Henry the Fifth, thy ghost I invocate:
Prosper this realm, keep it from civil broils,
Combat with adverse planets in the heavens!
A far more glorious star thy soul will make
Than Julius Caesar or bright⁠—

Enter a Messenger. Messenger

My honourable lords, health to you all!
Sad tidings bring I to you out of France,
Of loss, of slaughter and discomfiture:
Guienne, Champagne, Rheims, Orleans,
Paris, Guysors, Poictiers, are all quite lost.

Bedford

What say’st thou, man, before dead Henry’s corse?
Speak softly, or the loss of those great towns
Will make him burst his lead and rise from death.

Gloucester

Is Paris