Henry VI, Part I by William Shakespeare
Act 3 - Scene 2
France. Before Rouen.
Joan la Pucelle : These are the city gates, the gates of Rouen,
[p]Through which our
policy must make a breach:
[p]Take heed, be wary how you place your
words;
[p]Talk like the vulgar sort of market men
[p]That come to
gather money for their corn.
[p]If we have entrance, as I hope we
shall,
[p]And that we find the slothful watch but weak,
[p]I'll by a
sign give notice to our friends,
[p]That Charles the Dauphin may
encounter them.
First Soldier : Our sacks shall be a mean to sack the city,
[p]And we be lords and
rulers over Rouen;
[p]Therefore we'll knock.
Watch : [Within] Qui est la?
Joan la Pucelle : Paysans, pauvres gens de France;
[p]Poor market folks that come to
sell their corn.
Watch : Enter, go in; the market bell is rung.
Joan la Pucelle : Now, Rouen, I'll shake thy bulwarks to the
ground.
[p][Exeunt]
[p][Enter CHARLES, the BASTARD OF ORLEANS,
ALENCON,]
[p]REIGNIER, and forces]
Charles, King of France : Saint Denis bless this happy stratagem!
[p]And once again we'll sleep
secure in Rouen.
Bastard of Orleans : Here enter'd Pucelle and her practisants;
[p]Now she is there, how
will she specify
[p]Where is the best and safest passage in?
Reignier : By thrusting out a torch from yonder tower;
[p]Which, once discern'd,
shows that her meaning is,
[p]No way to that, for weakness, which she
enter'd.
[p][Enter JOAN LA PUCELLE on the top, thrusting out
a]
[p]torch burning]
Joan la Pucelle : Behold, this is the happy wedding torch
[p]That joineth Rouen unto her
countrymen,
[p]But burning fatal to the Talbotites!
Bastard of Orleans : See, noble Charles, the beacon of our friend;
[p]The burning torch in
yonder turret stands.
Charles, King of France : Now shine it like a comet of revenge,
[p]A prophet to the fall of all
our foes!
Reignier : Defer no time, delays have dangerous ends;
[p]Enter, and cry 'The
Dauphin!' presently,
[p]And then do execution on the watch.
Lord Talbot/Earl of Shrewsbury : France, thou shalt rue this treason with thy tears,
[p]If Talbot but
survive thy treachery.
[p]Pucelle, that witch, that damned
sorceress,
[p]Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares,
[p]That
hardly we escaped the pride of France.
[p][Exit]
[p][An alarum:
excursions. BEDFORD, brought in sick]
[p]in a chair. Enter TALBOT and
BURGUNDY without:
[p]within JOAN LA PUCELLE, CHARLES, BASTARD OF
ORLEANS,
[p]ALENCON, and REIGNIER, on the walls]
Joan la Pucelle : Good morrow, gallants! want ye corn for bread?
[p]I think the Duke of
Burgundy will fast
[p]Before he'll buy again at such a rate:
[p]'Twas
full of darnel; do you like the taste?
Charles, King of France : Your grace may starve perhaps before that time.
Joan la Pucelle : What will you do, good grey-beard? break a lance,
[p]And run a tilt at
death within a chair?
Lord Talbot/Earl of Shrewsbury : Foul fiend of France, and hag of all despite,
[p]Encompass'd with thy
lustful paramours!
[p]Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age
[p]And
twit with cowardice a man half dead?
[p]Damsel, I'll have a bout with
you again,
[p]Or else let Talbot perish with this shame.
Joan la Pucelle : Are ye so hot, sir? yet, Pucelle, hold thy peace;
[p]If Talbot do but
thunder, rain will follow.
[p][The English whisper together in
council]
[p]God speed the parliament! who shall be the speaker?
Lord Talbot/Earl of Shrewsbury : Dare ye come forth and meet us in the field?
Joan la Pucelle : Belike your lordship takes us then for fools,
[p]To try if that our
own be ours or no.
Lord Talbot/Earl of Shrewsbury : I speak not to that railing Hecate,
[p]But unto thee, Alencon, and the
rest;
[p]Will ye, like soldiers, come and fight it out?
Duke of Alencon : Signior, no.
Lord Talbot/Earl of Shrewsbury : Signior, hang! base muleters of France!
[p]Like peasant foot-boys do
they keep the walls
[p]And dare not take up arms like gentlemen.
Joan la Pucelle : Away, captains! let's get us from the walls;
[p]For Talbot means no
goodness by his looks.
[p]God be wi' you, my lord! we came but to tell
you
[p]That we are here.
Lord Talbot/Earl of Shrewsbury : And there will we be too, ere it be long,
[p]Or else reproach be
Talbot's greatest fame!
[p]Vow, Burgundy, by honour of thy
house,
[p]Prick'd on by public wrongs sustain'd in France,
[p]Either
to get the town again or die:
[p]And I, as sure as English Henry
lives
[p]And as his father here was conqueror,
[p]As sure as in this
late-betrayed town
[p]Great Coeur-de-lion's heart was buried,
[p]So
sure I swear to get the town or die.
Lord Talbot/Earl of Shrewsbury : But, ere we go, regard this dying prince,
[p]The valiant Duke of
Bedford. Come, my lord,
[p]We will bestow you in some better
place,
[p]Fitter for sickness and for crazy age.
Lord Talbot/Earl of Shrewsbury : Undaunted spirit in a dying breast!
[p]Then be it so: heavens keep old
Bedford safe!
[p]And now no more ado, brave Burgundy,
[p]But gather we
our forces out of hand
[p]And set upon our boasting enemy.
[p][Exeunt
all but BEDFORD and Attendants]
[p][An alarum: excursions. Enter
FASTOLFE and]
[p]a Captain]
Captain : Whither away, Sir John Fastolfe, in such haste?
Sir John Fastolfe : Whither away! to save myself by flight:
[p]We are like to have the
overthrow again.
Captain : What! will you fly, and leave Lord Talbot?
Sir John Fastolfe : Ay,
[p]All the Talbots in the world, to save my life!
Captain : Cowardly knight! ill fortune follow thee!
[p][Exit]
[p][Retreat:
excursions. JOAN LA PUCELLE, ALENCON,]
[p]and CHARLES fly]
Lord Talbot/Earl of Shrewsbury : Lost, and recover'd in a day again!
[p]This is a double honour,
Burgundy:
[p]Yet heavens have glory for this victory!
Lord Talbot/Earl of Shrewsbury : Thanks, gentle duke. But where is Pucelle now?
[p]I think her old
familiar is asleep:
[p]Now where's the Bastard's braves, and Charles
his gleeks?
[p]What, all amort? Rouen hangs her head for grief
[p]That
such a valiant company are fled.
[p]Now will we take some order in the
town,
[p]Placing therein some expert officers,
[p]And then depart to
Paris to the king,
[p]For there young Henry with his nobles lie.
Lord Talbot/Earl of Shrewsbury : But yet, before we go, let's not forget
[p]The noble Duke of Bedford
late deceased,
[p]But see his exequies fulfill'd in Rouen:
[p]A braver
soldier never couched lance,
[p]A gentler heart did never sway in
court;
[p]But kings and mightiest potentates must die,
[p]For that's
the end of human misery.
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