Henry VI, Part 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?

Alençon

Be it so.

Enter the Bastard of Orleans.

Bastard

Where’s the Prince Dauphin? I have news for him.

Charles

Bastard of Orleans, thrice welcome to us.

Bastard

Methinks your looks are sad, your cheer appall’d: Hath the late overthrow wrought this offence? Be not dismay’d, for succour is at hand: A holy maid hither with me I bring, Which by a vision sent to her from heaven Ordained is to raise this tedious siege And drive the English forth the bounds of France. The spirit of deep prophecy she hath, Exceeding the nine sibyls of old Rome: What’s past and what’s to come she can descry. Speak, shall I call her in? Believe my words, For they are certain and unfallible.

Charles

Go, call her in. Exit Bastard. But first, to try her skill, Reignier, stand thou as Dauphin in my place: Question her proudly; let thy looks be stern: By this means shall we sound what skill she hath.

Reenter the Bastard of Orleans, with Joan la Pucelle.

Reignier

Fair maid, is’t thou wilt do these wondrous feats?

Pucelle

Reignier, is’t thou that thinkest to beguile me? Where is the Dauphin? Come, come from behind; I know thee well, though never seen before. Be not amazed, there’s nothing hid from me: In private will I talk with thee apart. Stand back, you lords, and give us leave awhile.

Reignier

She takes upon her bravely at first dash.

Serving-men

Open the gates unto the lord protector, Or we’ll burst them open, if that you come not quickly.

Enter to the Protector at the Tower Gates Winchester and his men in tawny coats.

Winchester

How now, ambitious Humphry! what means this?

Gloucester

Peel’d priest, dost thou command me to be shut out?

Winchester

I do, thou most usurping proditor, And not protector, of the king or realm.

Gloucester

Stand back, thou manifest conspirator, Thou that contrivedst to murder our dead lord; Thou that givest whores indulgences to sin: I’ll canvass thee in thy broad cardinal’s hat, If thou proceed in this thy insolence.

Winchester

Nay, stand thou back; I will not budge a foot: This be Damascus, be thou cursed Cain, To slay thy brother Abel, if thou wilt.

Gloucester

I will not slay thee, but I’ll drive thee back: Thy scarlet robes as a child’s bearing-cloth I’ll use to carry thee out of this place.

Winchester

Do what thou darest; I beard thee to thy face.

Gloucester

What! am I dared and bearded to my face? Draw, men, for all this privileged place; Blue coats to tawny coats. Priest, beware your beard; I mean to tug it and to cuff you soundly: Under my feet I stamp thy cardinal’s hat: In spite of pope or dignities of church, Here by the cheeks I’ll drag thee up and down.

Winchester

Gloucester, thou wilt answer this before the pope.

Gloucester

Winchester goose, I cry, a rope! a rope! Now beat them hence; why do you let them stay? Thee I’ll chase hence, thou wolf in sheep’s array. Out, tawny coats! out, scarlet hypocrite!

Before Orleans.

Enter a Sergeant of a band with 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 caroused and banqueted: Embrace we then this opportunity As fitting best to quittance their deceit Contrived 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.

Plantagenet

Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbearance: The truth appears so naked on my side That any purblind eye may find it out.

Somerset

And on my side it is so well apparell’d, So clear, so shining and so evident That it will glimmer through a blind man’s eye.

Plantagenet

Since you are tongue-tied and so loath to speak, In dumb significants proclaim your thoughts: Let him that is a true-born gentleman And stands upon the honour of his birth, If he suppose that I have pleaded truth, From off this brier pluck a white rose with me.

Somerset

Let him that is no coward nor no flatterer, But dare maintain the party of the truth, Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me.

Warwick

I love no colours, and without all colour Of base insinuating flattery I pluck this white rose with Plantagenet.

Suffolk

I pluck this red rose with young Somerset And say withal I think he held the right.

Vernon

Stay, lords and gentlemen, and pluck no more, Till you conclude that he upon whose side The fewest roses are cropp’d from the tree Shall yield the other in the right opinion.

Somerset

Good Master Vernon, it is well objected: If I have fewest, I subscribe in silence.

Plantagenet

And I.

Vernon

Then for the truth and plainness of the case, I pluck this pale and maiden blossom here, Giving my verdict on the white rose side.