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  • Title: Henry VI, Part 1 (Folio 1, 1623)

    • Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Henry VI, Part 1 (Folio 1, 1623)

    102
    The first Part of Henry the Sixt.
    More venturous, or desperate then this.
    730 Bast. I thinke this Talbot be a Fiend of Hell.
    Reig. If not of Hell, the Heauens sure fauour him.
    Alans. Here commeth Charles, I maruell how he sped?

    Enter Charles and Ioane.
    Bast. Tut, holy Ioane was his defensiue Guard.
    735 Charl. Is this thy cunning, thou deceitfull Dame?
    Didst thou at first, to flatter vs withall,
    Make vs partakers of a little gayne,
    That now our losse might be ten times so much?
    Ioane. Wherefore is Charles impatient with his friend?
    740At all times will you haue my Power alike?
    Sleeping or waking, must I still preuayle,
    Or will you blame and lay the fault on me?
    Improuident Souldiors, had your Watch been good,
    This sudden Mischiefe neuer could haue falne.
    745 Charl. Duke of Alanson, this was your default,
    That being Captaine of the Watch to Night,
    Did looke no better to that weightie Charge.
    Alans. Had all your Quarters been as safely kept,
    As that whereof I had the gouernment,
    750We had not beene thus shamefully surpriz'd.
    Bast. Mine was secure.
    Reig. And so was mine, my Lord.
    Charl. And for my selfe, most part of all this Night
    Within her Quarter, and mine owne Precinct,
    755I was imploy'd in passing to and fro,
    About relieuing of the Centinels.
    Then how, or which way, should they first breake in?
    Ioane. Question (my Lords) no further of the case,
    How or which way; 'tis sure they found some place,
    760But weakely guarded, where the breach was made:
    And now there rests no other shift but this,
    To gather our Souldiors, scatter'd and disperc't,
    And lay new Plat-formes to endammage them.
    Exeunt.

    765 Alarum. Enter a Souldier, crying, a Talbot, a Talbot:
    they flye, leauing their Clothes behind.

    Sould. Ile be so bold to take what they haue left:
    The Cry of Talbot serues me for a Sword,
    For I haue loaden me with many Spoyles,
    770Vsing no other Weapon but his Name. Exit.

    Enter Talbot, Bedford, Burgundie.
    Bedf. The Day begins to breake, and Night is fled,
    Whose pitchy Mantle ouer-vayl'd the Earth.
    Here sound Retreat, and cease our hot pursuit. Retreat.
    775 Talb. Bring forth the Body of old Salisbury,
    And here aduance it in the Market-Place,
    The middle Centure of this cursed Towne.
    Now haue I pay'd my Vow vnto his Soule:
    For euery drop of blood was drawne from him,
    780There hath at least fiue Frenchmen dyed to night.
    And that hereafter Ages may behold
    What ruine happened in reuenge of him,
    Within their chiefest Temple Ile erect
    A Tombe, wherein his Corps shall be interr'd:
    785Vpon the which, that euery one may reade,
    Shall be engrau'd the sacke of Orleance,
    The trecherous manner of his mournefull death,
    And what a terror he had beene to France.
    But Lords, in all our bloudy Massacre,
    790I muse we met not with the Dolphins Grace,

    His new-come Champion, vertuous Ioane of Acre,
    Nor any of his false Confederates.
    Bedf. 'Tis thought Lord Talbot, when the fight began,
    Rows'd on the sudden from their drowsie Beds,
    795They did amongst the troupes of armed men,
    Leape o're the Walls for refuge in the field.
    Burg. My selfe, as farre as I could well discerne,
    For smoake, and duskie vapours of the night,
    Am sure I scar'd the Dolphin and his Trull,
    800When Arme in Arme they both came swiftly running,
    Like to a payre of louing Turtle-Doues,
    That could not liue asunder day or night.
    After that things are set in order here,
    Wee'le follow them with all the power we haue.

    805 Enter a Messenger.
    Mess. All hayle, my Lords: which of this Princely trayne
    Call ye the Warlike Talbot, for his Acts
    So much applauded through the Realme of France?
    Talb. Here is the Talbot, who would speak with him?
    810 Mess. The vertuous Lady, Countesse of Ouergne,
    With modestie admiring thy Renowne,
    By me entreats (great Lord) thou would'st vouchsafe
    To visit her poore Castle where she lyes,
    That she may boast she hath beheld the man,
    815Whose glory fills the World with lowd report.
    Burg. Is it euen so? Nay, then I see our Warres
    Will turne vnto a peacefull Comick sport,
    When Ladyes craue to be encountred with.
    You may not (my Lord) despise her gentle suit.
    820 Talb. Ne're trust me then: for when a World of men
    Could not preuayle with all their Oratorie,
    Yet hath a Womans kindnesse ouer-rul'd:
    And therefore tell her, I returne great thankes,
    And in submission will attend on her.
    825Will not your Honors beare me company?
    Bedf. No, truly, 'tis more then manners will:
    And I haue heard it sayd, Vnbidden Guests
    Are often welcommest when they are gone.
    Talb. Well then, alone (since there's no remedie)
    830I meane to proue this Ladyes courtesie.
    Come hither Captaine, you perceiue my minde.
    Whispers.
    Capt. I doe my Lord, and meane accordingly.
    Exeunt.
    835 Enter Countesse.
    Count. Porter, remember what I gaue in charge,
    And when you haue done so, bring the Keyes to me.
    Port. Madame, I will. Exit.
    Count. The Plot is layd, if all things fall out right,
    840I shall as famous be by this exploit,
    As Scythian Tomyris by Cyrus death.
    Great is the rumour of this dreadfull Knight,
    And his atchieuements of no lesse account:
    Faine would mine eyes be witnesse with mine eares,
    845To giue their censure of these rare reports.

    Enter Messenger and Talbot.
    Mess. Madame, according as your Ladyship desir'd,
    By Message crau'd, so is Lord Talbot come.
    Count. And he is welcome: what? is this the man?
    850 Mess. Madame, it is.
    Count. Is this the Scourge of France?
    Is this the Talbot, so much fear'd abroad?
    That with his Name the Mothers still their Babes?
    I see Report is fabulous and false.
    I
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