William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition (82 page)
Read William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition Online
Authors: William Shakespeare
Tags: #Drama, #Literary Criticism, #Shakespeare
BOOK: William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition
10.48Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
⌈
Enter Lucy
⌉
CAPTAIN
Here is Sir William Lucy, who with me
Set from our o’ermatched forces forth for aid.
Set from our o’ermatched forces forth for aid.
SOMERSET
How now, Sir William, whither were you sent?
LUCY
Whither, my lord? From bought and sold Lord Talbot,
Who, ringed about with bold adversity,
Cries out for noble York and Somerset
To beat assailing death from his weak legions;
And whiles the honourable captain there
Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied limbs
And, unadvantaged, ling’ring looks for rescue,
You his false hopes, the trust of England’s honour,
Keep off aloof with worthless emulation.
Let not your private discord keep away
The levied succours that should lend him aid,
While he, renowned noble gentleman,
Yield up his life unto a world of odds.
Orléans the Bastard, Charles, and Burgundy,
Alençon, René, compass him about,
And Talbot perisheth by your default.
Who, ringed about with bold adversity,
Cries out for noble York and Somerset
To beat assailing death from his weak legions;
And whiles the honourable captain there
Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied limbs
And, unadvantaged, ling’ring looks for rescue,
You his false hopes, the trust of England’s honour,
Keep off aloof with worthless emulation.
Let not your private discord keep away
The levied succours that should lend him aid,
While he, renowned noble gentleman,
Yield up his life unto a world of odds.
Orléans the Bastard, Charles, and Burgundy,
Alençon, René, compass him about,
And Talbot perisheth by your default.
SOMERSET
York set him on; York should have sent him aid.
LUCY
And York as fast upon your grace exclaims,
Swearing that you withhold his levied horse
Collected for this expedition.
Swearing that you withhold his levied horse
Collected for this expedition.
SOMERSET
York lies. He might have sent and had the horse.
I owe him little duty and less love,
And take foul scorn to fawn on him by sending.
I owe him little duty and less love,
And take foul scorn to fawn on him by sending.
LUCY
The fraud of England, not the force of France,
Hath now entrapped the noble-minded Talbot.
Never to England shall he bear his life,
But dies betrayed to fortune by your strife.
Hath now entrapped the noble-minded Talbot.
Never to England shall he bear his life,
But dies betrayed to fortune by your strife.
SOMERSET
Come, go. I will dispatch the horsemen straight.
Within six hours they will be at his aid.
Within six hours they will be at his aid.
LUCY
Too late comes rescue. He is ta’en or slain,
For fly he could not if he would have fled,
And fly would Talbot never, though he might.
For fly he could not if he would have fled,
And fly would Talbot never, though he might.
SOMERSET
If he be dead, brave Talbot, then adieu.
LUCY
His fame lives in the world, his shame in you.
Exeunt
⌈
severally
⌉
4.5⌈
severally
⌉
Enter Lord Talbot and his son John
TALBOT
O young John Talbot, I did send for thee
To tutor thee in stratagems of war,
That Talbot’s name might be in thee revived
When sapless age and weak unable limbs
Should bring thy father to his drooping chair.
But O—malignant and ill-boding stars!—
Now thou art come unto a feast of death,
A terrible and unavoided danger.
Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest horse,
And I’ll direct thee how thou shalt escape
By sudden flight. Come, dally not, be gone.
To tutor thee in stratagems of war,
That Talbot’s name might be in thee revived
When sapless age and weak unable limbs
Should bring thy father to his drooping chair.
But O—malignant and ill-boding stars!—
Now thou art come unto a feast of death,
A terrible and unavoided danger.
Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest horse,
And I’ll direct thee how thou shalt escape
By sudden flight. Come, dally not, be gone.
JOHN
Is my name Talbot, and am I your son,
And shall I fly? O, if you love my mother,
Dishonour not her honourable name
To make a bastard and a slave of me.
The world will say he is not Talbot’s blood
That basely fled when noble Talbot stood.
And shall I fly? O, if you love my mother,
Dishonour not her honourable name
To make a bastard and a slave of me.
The world will say he is not Talbot’s blood
That basely fled when noble Talbot stood.
TALBOT
Fly to revenge my death if I be slain.
JOHN
He that flies so will ne’er return again.
TALBOT
If we both stay, we both are sure to die.
JOHN
Then let me stay and, father, do you fly.
Your loss is great; so your regard should be.
My worth unknown, no loss is known in me.
Upon my death the French can little boast;
In yours they will: in you all hopes are lost.
Flight cannot stain the honour you have won,
But mine it will, that no exploit have done.
You fled for vantage, everyone will swear,
But if I bow, they’ll say it was for fear.
There is no hope that ever I will stay
If the first hour I shrink and run away.
Here on my knee I beg mortality
Rather than life preserved with infamy.
Your loss is great; so your regard should be.
My worth unknown, no loss is known in me.
Upon my death the French can little boast;
In yours they will: in you all hopes are lost.
Flight cannot stain the honour you have won,
But mine it will, that no exploit have done.
You fled for vantage, everyone will swear,
But if I bow, they’ll say it was for fear.
There is no hope that ever I will stay
If the first hour I shrink and run away.
Here on my knee I beg mortality
Rather than life preserved with infamy.
TALBOT
Shall all thy mother’s hopes lie in one tomb?
JOHN
Ay, rather than I’ll shame my mother’s womb.
TALBOT
Upon my blessing I command thee go.
JOHN
To fight I will, but not to fly the foe.
TALBOT
Part of thy father may be saved in thee.
JOHN
No part of him but will be shamed in me.
TALBOT
Thou never hadst renown, nor canst not lose it.
JOHN
Yes, your renowned name—shall flight abuse it?
TALBOT
Thy father’s charge shall clear thee from that stain.
JOHN
You cannot witness for me, being slain.
If death be so apparent, then both fly.
If death be so apparent, then both fly.
TALBOT
And leave my followers here to fight and die?
My age was never tainted with such shame.
My age was never tainted with such shame.
JOHN
And shall my youth be guilty of such blame?
No more can I be severed from your side
Than can yourself your self in twain divide.
Stay, go, do what you will: the like do I,
For live I will not if my father die.
No more can I be severed from your side
Than can yourself your self in twain divide.
Stay, go, do what you will: the like do I,
For live I will not if my father die.
TALBOT
Then here I take my leave of thee, fair son,
Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon.
Come, side by side together live and die,
And soul with soul from France to heaven fly. Exeunt
4.6Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon.
Come, side by side together live and die,
And soul with soul from France to heaven fly. Exeunt
Alarum. Excursions, wherein Lord Talbot’s son John is hemmed about by French soldiers and Talbot rescues him. ⌈
The English drive off the French
⌉
TALBOT
Saint George and victory! Fight, soldiers, fight!
The Regent hath with Talbot broke his word,
And left us to the rage of France his sword.
Where is John Talbot? (
To John
) Pause and take thy
breath.
I gave thee life, and rescued thee from death.
The Regent hath with Talbot broke his word,
And left us to the rage of France his sword.
Where is John Talbot? (
To John
) Pause and take thy
breath.
I gave thee life, and rescued thee from death.
JOHN
O twice my father, twice am I thy son:
The life thou gav‘st me first was lost and done
Till with thy warlike sword, despite of fate,
To my determined time thou gav’st new date.
The life thou gav‘st me first was lost and done
Till with thy warlike sword, despite of fate,
To my determined time thou gav’st new date.
TALBOT
When from the Dauphin’s crest thy sword struck fire
It warmed thy father’s heart with proud desire
Of bold-faced victory. Then leaden age,
Quickened with youthful spleen and warlike rage,
Beat down Alençon, Orléans, Burgundy,
And from the pride of Gallia rescued thee.
The ireful Bastard Orléans, that drew blood
From thee, my boy, and had the maidenhood
Of thy first fight, I soon encountered,
And interchanging blows, I quickly shed
Some of his bastard blood, and in disgrace
Bespoke him thus: ‘Contaminated, base,
And misbegotten blood I spill of thine,
Mean and right poor, for that pure blood of mine
Which thou didst force from Talbot, my brave boy.’
Here, purposing the Bastard to destroy,
Came in strong rescue. Speak thy father’s care:
Art thou not weary, John? How dost thou fare?
Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly,
Now thou art sealed the son of chivalry?
Fly to revenge my death when I am dead;
The help of one stands me in little stead.
O, too much folly is it, well I wot,
To hazard all our lives in one small boat.
If I today die not with Frenchmen’s rage,
Tomorrow I shall die with mickle age.
By me they nothing gain, and if I stay
‘Tis but the short’ning of my life one day.
In thee thy mother dies, our household’s name,
My death’s revenge, thy youth, and England’s fame.
All these and more we hazard by thy stay;
All these are saved if thou wilt fly away.
It warmed thy father’s heart with proud desire
Of bold-faced victory. Then leaden age,
Quickened with youthful spleen and warlike rage,
Beat down Alençon, Orléans, Burgundy,
And from the pride of Gallia rescued thee.
The ireful Bastard Orléans, that drew blood
From thee, my boy, and had the maidenhood
Of thy first fight, I soon encountered,
And interchanging blows, I quickly shed
Some of his bastard blood, and in disgrace
Bespoke him thus: ‘Contaminated, base,
And misbegotten blood I spill of thine,
Mean and right poor, for that pure blood of mine
Which thou didst force from Talbot, my brave boy.’
Here, purposing the Bastard to destroy,
Came in strong rescue. Speak thy father’s care:
Art thou not weary, John? How dost thou fare?
Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly,
Now thou art sealed the son of chivalry?
Fly to revenge my death when I am dead;
The help of one stands me in little stead.
O, too much folly is it, well I wot,
To hazard all our lives in one small boat.
If I today die not with Frenchmen’s rage,
Tomorrow I shall die with mickle age.
By me they nothing gain, and if I stay
‘Tis but the short’ning of my life one day.
In thee thy mother dies, our household’s name,
My death’s revenge, thy youth, and England’s fame.
All these and more we hazard by thy stay;
All these are saved if thou wilt fly away.
JOHN
The sword of Orléans hath not made me smart;
These words of yours draw life-blood from my heart.
On that advantage, bought with such a shame,
To save a paltry life and slay bright fame,
Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly
The coward horse that bears me fall and die;
And like me to the peasant boys of France,
To be shame’s scorn and subject of mischance !
Surely, by all the glory you have won,
An if I fly I am not Talbot’s son.
Then talk no more of flight; it is no boot.
If son to Talbot, die at Talbot’s foot.
These words of yours draw life-blood from my heart.
On that advantage, bought with such a shame,
To save a paltry life and slay bright fame,
Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly
The coward horse that bears me fall and die;
And like me to the peasant boys of France,
To be shame’s scorn and subject of mischance !
Surely, by all the glory you have won,
An if I fly I am not Talbot’s son.
Then talk no more of flight; it is no boot.
If son to Talbot, die at Talbot’s foot.
TALBOT
Then follow thou thy desp’rate sire of Crete,
Thou Icarus; thy life to me is sweet.
If thou wilt fight, fight by thy father’s side,
And commendable proved, let’s die in pride. Exeunt
4.7Thou Icarus; thy life to me is sweet.
If thou wilt fight, fight by thy father’s side,
And commendable proved, let’s die in pride. Exeunt
Alarum. Excursions. Enter old Lord Talbot led by a Servant
TALBOT
Where is my other life? Mine own is gone.
O where’s young Talbot, where is valiant John?
Triumphant death smeared with captivity,
Young Talbot’s valour makes me smile at thee.
When he perceived me shrink and on my knee,
His bloody sword he brandished over me,
And like a hungry lion did commence
Rough deeds of rage and stern impatience.
But when my angry guardant stood alone,
Tend‘ring my ruin and assailed of none,
Dizzy-eyed fury and great rage of heart
Suddenly made him from my side to start
Into the clust’ring battle of the French,
And in that sea of blood my boy did drench
His over-mounting spirit; and there died
My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride.
O where’s young Talbot, where is valiant John?
Triumphant death smeared with captivity,
Young Talbot’s valour makes me smile at thee.
When he perceived me shrink and on my knee,
His bloody sword he brandished over me,
And like a hungry lion did commence
Rough deeds of rage and stern impatience.
But when my angry guardant stood alone,
Tend‘ring my ruin and assailed of none,
Dizzy-eyed fury and great rage of heart
Suddenly made him from my side to start
Into the clust’ring battle of the French,
And in that sea of blood my boy did drench
His over-mounting spirit; and there died
My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride.
Enter English soldiers with John Talbot’s body, borne
SERVANT
O my odear lord, lo where your son is borne.
TALBOT
Thou antic death, which laugh‘st us here to scorn,
Anon from thy insulting tyranny,
Coupled in bonds of perpetuity,
Two Talbots winged through the lither sky
In thy despite shall scape mortality.
(To John) O thou whose wounds become hard-favoured
death,
Speak to thy father ere thou yield thy breath.
Brave death by speaking, whether he will or no;
Imagine him a Frenchman and thy foe.—
Poor boy, he smiles, methinks, as who should say
‘Had death been French, then death had died today’.
Come, come, and lay him in his father’s arms.
Anon from thy insulting tyranny,
Coupled in bonds of perpetuity,
Two Talbots winged through the lither sky
In thy despite shall scape mortality.
(To John) O thou whose wounds become hard-favoured
death,
Speak to thy father ere thou yield thy breath.
Brave death by speaking, whether he will or no;
Imagine him a Frenchman and thy foe.—
Poor boy, he smiles, methinks, as who should say
‘Had death been French, then death had died today’.
Come, come, and lay him in his father’s arms.
Soldiers lay John in Talbot’s arms
My spirit can no longer bear these harms.
Soldiers, adieu. I have what I would have,
Now my old arms are young John Talbot’s grave.
Soldiers, adieu. I have what I would have,
Now my old arms are young John Talbot’s grave.
He dies.
⌈
Alarum
.⌉
Exeunt soldiers leaving the bodies
⌈
Alarum
.⌉
Exeunt soldiers leaving the bodies
Enter Charles the Dauphin, the dukes of Alencon and Burgundy, the Bastard of Orléans, and Joan la Pucelle
CHARLES
Had York and Somerset brought rescue in,
We should have found a bloody day of this.
We should have found a bloody day of this.
BASTARD
How the young whelp of Talbot’s, raging wood,
Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen’s blood!
Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen’s blood!
JOAN
Once I encountered him, and thus I said:
‘Thou maiden youth, be vanquished by a maid.’
But with a proud, majestical high scorn
He answered thus: ‘Young Talbot was not born
To be the pillage of a giglot wench.’
So rushing in the bowels of the French,
He left me proudly, as unworthy fight.
‘Thou maiden youth, be vanquished by a maid.’
But with a proud, majestical high scorn
He answered thus: ‘Young Talbot was not born
To be the pillage of a giglot wench.’
So rushing in the bowels of the French,
He left me proudly, as unworthy fight.
BURGUNDY
Doubtless he would have made a noble knight.
See where he lies inhearsèd in the arms
Of the most bloody nurser of his harms.
See where he lies inhearsèd in the arms
Of the most bloody nurser of his harms.
BASTARD
Hew them to pieces, hack their bones asunder,
Whose life was England’s glory, Gallia’s wonder.
Whose life was England’s glory, Gallia’s wonder.
CHARLES
O no, forbear; for that which we have fled
During the life, let us not wrong it dead.
During the life, let us not wrong it dead.
Enter Sir William Lucy
⌈
with a French herald
⌉
LUCY
Herald, conduct me to the Dauphin’s tent
To know who hath obtained the glory of the day.
To know who hath obtained the glory of the day.
CHARLES
On what submissive message art thou sent?
LUCY
Submission, Dauphin?‘Tis a mere French word.
We English warriors wot not what it means.
I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta’en,
And to survey the bodies of the dead.
We English warriors wot not what it means.
I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta’en,
And to survey the bodies of the dead.
CHARLES
For prisoners ask‘st thou ? Hell our prison is.
But tell me whom thou seek’st.
But tell me whom thou seek’st.
LUCY
But where’s the great Alcides of the field,
Valiant Lord Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury,
Created for his rare success in arms
Great Earl of Wexford, Waterford, and Valence,
Lord Talbot of Goodrich and Urchinfield,
Lord Strange of Blackmere, Lord Verdun of Alton,
Lord Cromwell of Wingfield, Lord Furnival of Sheffield,
The thrice victorious lord of Falconbridge,
Knight of the noble order of Saint George,
Worthy Saint Michael and the Golden Fleece,
Great
Maréchal
to Henry the Sixth
Of all his wars within the realm of France?
Valiant Lord Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury,
Created for his rare success in arms
Great Earl of Wexford, Waterford, and Valence,
Lord Talbot of Goodrich and Urchinfield,
Lord Strange of Blackmere, Lord Verdun of Alton,
Lord Cromwell of Wingfield, Lord Furnival of Sheffield,
The thrice victorious lord of Falconbridge,
Knight of the noble order of Saint George,
Worthy Saint Michael and the Golden Fleece,
Great
Maréchal
to Henry the Sixth
Of all his wars within the realm of France?
JOAN
Here’s a silly, stately style indeed.
The Turk, that two-and-fifty kingdoms hath,
Writes not so tedious a style as this.
Him that thou magnifi’st with all these titles
Stinking and flyblown lies here at our feet.
The Turk, that two-and-fifty kingdoms hath,
Writes not so tedious a style as this.
Him that thou magnifi’st with all these titles
Stinking and flyblown lies here at our feet.
Other books
Caribou Island by David Vann
La reliquia de Yahveh by Alfredo del Barrio
4 Death at the Happiness Club by Cecilia Peartree
Archenemy by Patrick Hueller
Perfection of the Morning by Sharon Butala
A Table for Two by Janet Albert
Flawless//Broken by Sara Wolf
The Legend Of Eli Monpress by Aaron, Rachel
Star Attraction by Sorcha MacMurrough
Picking Up the Pieces by Denise Grover Swank
