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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    Not Peer Reviewed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)

    Scaena Tertia.
    1585 Enter Charles, Bastard, Alanson, Pucell.
    Pucell. Dismay not (Princes) at this accident,
    Nor grieue that Roan is so recouered:
    Care is no cure, but rather corrosiue,
    For things that are not to be remedy'd.
    1590Let frantike Talbot triumph for a while,
    And like a Peacock sweepe along his tayle,
    Wee'le pull his Plumes, and take away his Trayne,
    If Dolphin and the rest will be but rul'd.
    Charles. We haue been guided by thee hitherto,
    1595And of thy Cunning had no diffidence,
    One sudden Foyle shall neuer breed distrust.
    Bastard. Search out thy wit for secret pollicies,
    And we will make thee famous through the World.
    Alans. Wee'le set thy Statue in some holy place,
    1600And haue thee reuerenc't like a blessed Saint.
    Employ thee then, sweet Virgin, for our good.
    Pucell. Then thus it must be, this doth Ioane deuise:
    By faire perswasions, mixt with sugred words,
    We will entice the Duke of Burgonie
    1605To leaue the Talbot, and to follow vs.
    Charles. I marry Sweeting, if we could doe that,
    France were no place for Henryes Warriors,
    Nor should that Nation boast it so with vs,
    But be extirped from our Prouinces.
    1610 Alans. For euer should they be expuls'd from France,
    And not haue Title of an Earledome here.
    Pucell. Your Honors shall perceiue how I will worke,
    To bring this matter to the wished end.
    Drumme sounds a farre off.
    1615Hearke, by the sound of Drumme you may perceiue
    Their Powers are marching vnto Paris-ward.
    Here sound an English March.
    There goes the Talbot, with his Colours spred,
    And all the Troupes of English after him.
    1620 French March.
    Now in the Rereward comes the Duke and his:
    Fortune in fauor makes him lagge behinde.
    Summon a Parley, we will talke with him.
    Trumpets sound a Parley.
    1625 Charles. A Parley with the Duke of Burgonie.
    Burg. Who craues a Parley with the Burgonie?
    Pucell. The Princely Charles of France, thy Countrey-
    man.
    Burg. What say'st thou Charles? for I am marching
    1630hence.
    Charles. Speake Pucell, and enchaunt him with thy
    words.
    Pucell. Braue Burgonie, vndoubted hope of France,
    Stay, let thy humble Hand-maid speake to thee.
    1635 Burg. Speake on, but be not ouer-tedious.
    Pucell. Looke on thy Country, look on fertile France,
    And see the Cities and the Townes defac't,
    By wasting Ruine of the cruell Foe,
    As lookes the Mother on her lowly Babe,
    1640When Death doth close his tender-dying Eyes.
    See, see the pining Maladie of France:
    Behold the Wounds, the most vnnaturall Wounds,
    Which thou thy selfe hast giuen her wofull Brest.
    Oh turne thy edged Sword another way,
    1645Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that helpe:
    One drop of Blood drawne from thy Countries Bosome,
    Should grieue thee more then streames of forraine gore.
    Returne thee therefore with a floud of Teares,
    And wash away thy Countries stayned Spots.
    1650 Burg. Either she hath bewitcht me with her words,
    Or Nature makes me suddenly relent.
    Pucell. Besides, all French and France exclaimes on thee,
    Doubting thy Birth and lawfull Progenie.
    Who ioyn'st thou with, but with a Lordly Nation,
    1655That will not trust thee, but for profits sake?
    When Talbot hath set footing once in France,
    And fashion'd thee that Instrument of Ill,
    Who then, but English Henry, will be Lord,
    And thou be thrust out, like a Fugitiue?
    1660Call we to minde, and marke but this for proofe:
    Was not the Duke of Orleance thy Foe?
    And was he not in England Prisoner?
    But when they heard he was thine Enemie,
    They set him free, without his Ransome pay'd,
    1665In spight of Burgonie and all his friends.
    See then, thou fight'st against thy Countreymen,
    And ioyn'st with them will be thy slaughter-men.
    Come, come, returne; returne thou wandering Lord,
    Charles and the rest will take thee in their armes.
    1670 Burg. I am vanquished:
    These haughtie wordes of hers
    Haue batt'red me like roaring Cannon-shot,
    And made me almost yeeld vpon my knees.
    Forgiue me Countrey, and sweet Countreymen:
    1675And Lords accept this heartie kind embrace.
    My Forces and my Power of Men are yours.
    So farwell Talbot, Ile no longer trust thee.
    Pucell. Done like a Frenchman: turne and turne a-
    gaine.
    1680 Charles. Welcome braue Duke, thy friendship makes
    vs fresh.
    Bastard. And doth beget new Courage in our
    Breasts.
    Alans. Pucell hath brauely play'd her part in this,
    1685And doth deserue a Coronet of Gold.
    Charles. Now let vs on, my Lords,
    And ioyne our Powers,
    And seeke how we may preiudice the Foe. Exeunt.
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