Classic Audiobook Collection - Henry VI Part 1 by William Shakespeare ~ Full Audiobook [drama]

Episode Date: April 26, 2025

Henry VI Part 1 by William Shakespeare audiobook. Genre: drama In Henry VI, Part 1, William Shakespeare opens his sweeping chronicle of England's Wars of the Roses with a kingdom already fraying at the edges. The young King Henry VI has inherited a crown but not the authority to command the hardened nobles who surround him. As England mourns the death of the great Henry V, rival factions at court sharpen their ambitions, and old grievances ignite into open conflict. Across the Channel, the English grip on France begins to slip, challenged by resurgent French forces and a mysterious young woman, Joan la Pucelle, whose rise unsettles commanders and kings alike. Caught between battlefield setbacks and political sabotage, England's leaders must decide whether loyalty is owed to the crown, to family, or to personal power. From besieged cities and contested coronations to bitter arguments that foreshadow civil war, the play traces how pride and rivalry can undo even the most hard-won victories. With vivid rhetoric, shifting alliances, and the ominous sense of history turning, Henry VI, Part 1 sets the stage for a struggle that will reshape a nation. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 0 (00:03:37) Chapter 1 (00:39:52) Chapter 2 (01:07:55) Chapter 3 (01:35:54) Chapter 4 (02:08:43) Chapter 5 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Act 1 of Henry VI Part 1 by William Shakespeare. Act 1, Scene 1 Westminster Abbey Dead March Enter the funeral of King Henry V, attended on by Dukes of Bedford, Regent of France, Gloucester, Protector, the Exeter, Earl of Warwick, the Bishop of Winchester, heralds, etc. 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 V, too famous to live long. England ne'er lost a king of so much worth. England ne'er had a king until his time. Virtue he had deserving to command. His brandished sword did blind men with his beams. His arms spread wider than the dragon's wings. His sparking eyes replete with wrathful fire, more dazzled and drove back his enemies than the midday sun, fierce, bent against their faces. What should I say? His deeds exceed all speech. He near lift up his hand, but conquered. We mourn in black. Why mourn we not in blood? Enry 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 glories overthrow? Or shall we think the subtle-witted French conjurers and sorcerers that, of raid of him by magic verses,

have contrived his end? a king blessed of the king of kings. And to the French the dreadful judgment day so dreadful will not be as was his sight. The battles of the Lord of hosts he fought. The church's prayers made him so prosperous. The church, where is it? Had not churchmen prayed, his thread of life had not so soon decayed. None do like, but in a feminine prince.

Whom, like a schoolboy you may overaw? Gloucester, whate'er we like, thou art protector, and lookest to command the prince and realm. Thy wife is proud. She holdeth thee in awe more than God or religious churchmen may. Nay not religion for thou lavest the flesh. I ne'er throughout the year to church thy goest,

except it be to pray against thy foes. Cease. Cease these jars and rest your minds in peace. Let's do the altar. Herald's wait on us. Instead of gold, we'll offer up our arms, since arms avail not now that Henry's dead. Posterity await for wretched years when at their mother's moist eyes babes shall suck.

Our isle be made an nourish of salt tears, and none but women left to wail the dead. Henry the fifth! Thy ghost I invocate! Prosper this realm. Keep it from civil broils. Combat with adverse planets in the heavens. A far more glorious star thy soul will make than Julius Caesar or bright... Enter a messenger.

My Honorable Lords, health to you all. Sad tidings bring I to you out of France. Of loss, of slaughter and discomfiture. Guillaume, Champagne, Rame, Oleon, Paris, Guisseur, Poitier, are all quite lost. What sayest thou, man, before dead Henry's course? Speak softly, or the loss of those great towns will make him burst his lead and rise from death. Is Paris lost? Is Juan yielded it up?

If Henry were recalled to life again, these news would cause him once more healed the ghost. How were they lost? What treachery was used? No treachery but want of men and money. Amongst the soldiers this is muttered that here you maintain several factions, and whilst a field should be dispatched and fought, you are disputing of your generals. One would have lingering wars with little cost, another would fly swift, but wanteth wings, a third thinks, without expense at all, by guileful fair words peace may be obtained. Awake! Awake, English nobility!

Let not sloth dim your horrors new-begot. Cropped are the flower de loose in your arms, have England's coat one half is cut away. Where are tears wanting to this funeral, these tidings would call forth their flowing tides. Me they concern. Regent I am of France. Give me my steeled coat. I'll fight for France. Away with these disgraceful wailing robes.

Wounds will I lend the French instead of eyes to weep their intermissive miseries. Enter to them another messenger. Lords, view these letters full of bad mischance. France has revolted from the English quite, except some petty towns of no import. The dauphin Charles is crowned king of Rheim. The bastard of Orléans with him is joined,

Rénie, Duke of Anjou, duc of Anjou, duc of Alonsohn flyeth to his side. The dauphin-crowned king, all fly to him. Oh, whither shall we fly from this reproach? We will not fly, but to our enemy's throats. Bedford, if thou be slack, I will fight it out. Gloucester, why doubts thou of my forwardness? An army have I mustered in my thoughts, wherewith already France is overrun. Enter another messenger.

My gracious lords, to add to your laments, wherewith you now bedew King Henry's hearse, I must inform you of a dismal fight betwixt the stout Lord Talbot and the French. What, wherein Talbot overcame, is't so? Oh, no, wherein Lord Talbot was all thrown, the circumstance I'll tell you more at large. The tenth of August last this dreadful lord, retiring from the siege of Orleans, having full scarce six thousand in his troop, by three and twenty thousand, of the French was round encompassed and set upon. No leisure had he to enrank his men. He wanted pikes to set before his archers. Instead, whereof, sharp stakes plucked out of hedges, they pitched

in the ground confusedly to keep the horsemen off from breaking in. More than three hours, the fight continued, where valiant Talbot above human thought enacted wonders with his sword and lance. Hundreds he sent to hell, and none durst stand him. Here, there and there and everywhere enraged he flew. The French exclaimed the devil was in arms. All the whole army stood gazed on him. His soldiers spying his undaunted spirit, a Talbot, a Talbot cried out to Maine and rushed into the bowels of the battle. Here had the conquest fully been sealed up if Sir John Fastolp had not played the coward. He, being in the vowed, placed behind with purpose to relieve and follow them, cowardly fled, not having struck one stroke. Hence,

screw the general wreck and massacre, enclosed were they with their enemies. A base will loom to win the Dauphin's grace, thrust Talbot with a spear into the back, whom all France, with their chief assembled strength durst not presumed to look once in the face. Is Talbot slain? Then I will slay myself for living idly here in pomp and ease, whilst such a worthy leader wanting aid unto his dastard foeman is betrayed. Oh no, he lives, but his took prisoner, and Lord scales with him and Lord Hungerford, most of the rest slaughtered or took likewise. His ransom there is none but I shall pay. I'll hail the d'alfin headlong from his throne. His crown shall be the ransom of my friend. Four of their lords I'll change for one of ours.

Farewell, my masters, to my task will I. Bonfires in France, forthwith I am to make, to keep our great St. George's feast with all. Ten thousand soldiers with me I will take, whose bloody deeds shall make all Europe quake. So you had need, for all aeon is besieged. The English army has grown weak and faint. The Earl of Salisbury craveth supply, and hardly keeps his men from mutiny, since they so few watch such a multitude.

Remember, Lord, your oaths to Henry's warn, either to quell the dough far heartily, or bring him in obedience to your yoke? I do remember it, and here take my leave to go about my preparation. Exit. I'll to the tower with all the haste I can to view the artillery and munition, and then I will proclaim young Henry King. Exit.

To Eltham, will I, where the young king is, being ordained his special governor, and for his safety there I'll best devise. Exit. Each hath his place and function to attend. I am left out. For me nothing remains. But long I will not be jack out of office. The king from Eltham I intend to steal,

and sit at chiefer stern of public wheel. Exeunt Scene 2. France, before Orleans. Sound a flourish, enter Charles, Alon, and Rainier, marching with drum and soldiers. Mars, his true moving, even as in the heaven, so on the earth, to this day. day is not known.

Late did he shine upon the English side. Now, we are victors. Upon us he smiles. What towns of any moment what we have? At pleasure here we lie near O'Leon. Otherwise, the famished English like pale goose faintly besieges us one hour in a month. They want their porridge and their fat bull-beaves. Either they must be dieted like mules and have their provender tied to their mouths, or

piteous they will look like drowned mice. Let's raise the siege, why live we idly here? Talbot is taken whom we want to fear. Remaineth none but mad-brain-soulspury, and he may well in freting spend his skull, nor men nor money hath he to make war. Sound, sound alarm! We will rush on them. Now force the honor of the forlorn French.

Him I forgive my death that killeth me when he sees me go back on one foot or fly. Exxion. Hear Alarum. They are beaten back by the English, with great loss. Re-enter, Charles, Alon, and Rainier. Who e'er saw they like? What men have I?

Dogs, cowards, dastards! I would ne'er have fled but that they left me midst my enemies. Solisbury is a desperate homie. side, he fighteth as one wary of his life. The other lords like lions wanting food to rush upon us as their hungry prey. Freysart, a countryman of ours, records, England, all Oliver's and Roland's bread, during the time Edward III did reign. More truly now may this be verified, for none but Samson's and Goliases it sendeth forth to skirmish. One to ten, lean, raw-boned rascals, Who would air suppose they had such courage and audacity?

Let's leave this down, for they are hair-brained slaves, and hunger will enforce them to be more eager. Of old I know them, rather with their teeth the walls they'll tear down than forsake the siege. I think by some odd game or sore device, their arms are set like clock stiff to strike on, else near could they hold out so as they do. By my consent, we'll even let them,

alone. Be it so. Enter the Bastard of Orleans. Well, the Prince Dauphin, I have news for him. Bastard of Orleans, thrice welcome to us. He thinks your looks are sad, your cheer appalled.

Hath the late overthrow or this offence? Be not dismayed, for soccer is attained. A holy maid hither with me I bring, which by a vision sent to her from heaven ordained us to raise this tedious siege and drive the English forth the bounds of France. The spirit of deep prophecy she hath, exceeding the nine cybels of old Rome.

What's past and what to come she can describe. Speak, shall I call her in? Believe my words, for they are certain and unfalable. Go, call her in. the bastard of Orleans. But first to try her skill, Reney stand thou as Defon 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 Pusel. Fair maid, is thou wilt to do this wondrous feats? Reney,

is it 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 she takes upon her bravely at first dash doffin i am by birth a shepherd's daughter my wit untrained in any kind of art heaven and our lady gracious has it pleased to shine on my contemptible estate lo whilst i waited on my tender lamps and to sun's sparching heat displayed my cheeks god's mother deigned to appear to me and in a vision full of majesty wield me to leave my base vocation and free my country from calamity her aid she promised and assured success in complete glory she revealed herself and whereas i was black and swore'd before with those clear rays which infused on me that beautiful am I blessed with which you see? Ask me what question thou canst possible, and I will answer

unpremeditated. My courage try by combat, if thou darest, and thou shalt find that I exceed my sex. Resolve on this, thou shalt be fortunate if thou receive me for thy warlike mate. Thou hast astonished me with thy high terms. this proof I'll of thy valor make. In single combat thou shalt buckle with me, and if thou vanquishest, thy words are true. Otherwise, I renounce all confidence. I am prepared. Here is my kin-edged sword, decked with five flower de lusces on each side. The witch at Turin, in St. Catherine's churchyard, out of a great deal of old iron, I chose force. Then come, or God's name, I'm fear no woman and while I live I'll ne'er fly from a man they fight and Joan La Pusel overcomes stay stay thy hands thou art an amazon and fightest with the sword of Deborah

Christ's mother helps me else I were to weak whoever helps thee tis thou that must help me Impatiently I burn with thy desire, My heart and hands thou hast at once subdued. Extent Pusela, if thy name be so, let me thy servant and not sovereign be. Tis the French d'Orphonse suest to thee thus. I must not yield to any rights of love, for my profession sacred from above. When I have chased all thy foes from hence, then will I think upon the recompense. Meantime, look gracious on thy prostrate thrall. My lord, methinks, is very long in talk.

Doubtless he scribes this woman to her smock, else ne'er could he so long protract his speech. Shall we disturb him since he keeps no mean? He may mean more than we poor men do know. These women are shrewd temptors with their tongues. My lord, where are you? What device you on? Shall we give over or Lyon or no? Why, no, I say, distrustful recreants.

Fight till the last gasp. I will be your guard. What she says I'll confirm, we'll fight it out. Assigned am I to be the English scourge. This night the siege assuredly I'll raise. Expect St. Martin's summer, Halcyon days, since I have entered into these wars. Glory is like a circle in the water, which never ceases. to enlarge itself, till by broadspreading it dispersed to naught.

With Henri's death the English circle ends. Dispersed are the glories it included. Now am I like that proud insulting ship which Caesar and his fortune bear at once? Was Muhammad inspired with a dove? Thou with an eagle art inspired then. Helen, the mother of great Constantine, nor yet son Philip's daughters were like thee. Bright star of Venus, fallen down on the earth, how may I reverently worship thee enough? Leave off delays and let us raise the siege.

Woman, do what thou canst to save our honours, drive them from Orlyon and be immortalized. Presently we'll try. Come, let's away about it. No profit will I trust if she prove false. Exeunt Scene 3, London Before the tower. Enter Gloucester with his serving man in blue coats. I am come to survey the tower this day. Since Henry's death, I fear there is conveyance.

Where be these warders that they wait not here? Open the gates. It is Gloucester that calls. Within. Who's there that not so imperiously? It is the noble Duke of Gloucester. Where he be, you may not be let in. Villains, answer you so, the Lord Protector.

The Lord protect him, so we answer him. We do no otherwise, and we are willed. Who willed you, or whose will stands but mine? There's none protector of the realm but I. Break up the gates, I'll be your warrant eyes. Shall I be flouted thus by Dunhill Grooms? Gloucester's men rush at the tower gates, and Woodville, the lieutenant, speaks within. What noise is this? What traitors have we here?

Lieutenant, is it you whose voice I hear? Open the gates, here's Gloucester that would enter. Have patience, noble Duke, I may not open. The Cardinal of Winchester forbids, From him I have expressed commandment that thou, or none of thine, shall be let in. Faint-hearted Woodvile, prises him for me? Arrogate Winchester, that haughty prelate,

whom Henry, our late sovereign, may it could brook? Thou art no friend to God or to the king. Open the gates, or I'll shut thee out shortly. Open the gates unto the Lord Protector, or will burst them open, if that you come not quickly. Enter to the protector of the tower gates, bishop of Winchester and his men in tawny coats. How now, ambitious Humphrey? What means this? Peeled priest, dost thou command me to be shut out? I do, thou most usurping proditor and not protector of the king or realm.

Stand back, thou manifest conspirator, thou that contrivates to murder our dead lord, thou that givest haws indulgences to sin, I'll canvass thee in thy broad cardinal's hat, if thou proceed in this thy insolence. Nay, stand thou back, I will not budge your foot. This be Damascus, be thou cursed Cain to slay thy brother Abel, if thou wilt. 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. Do what thou darest.

I beard thee to thy face. What? Am I dared and bearded to my face? Draw, men, for all this privileged place. Blue coats to tony coats. Priest, beware your beard. I mean to tug it into cuff you soundly. Under my feet I stamp like Cardinal's hat. In spite of Pope or dignities of church,

Here, by the cheeks, I'll drag thee up and down. Gloucester, thou wilt answer this before the Pope. Winchester goose, I cry, a rope, a rope! Now, beat them hence. Why do you let them stay? Thie I'll chase hence, thou wolf in sheep's array. Out, tawny coat, out, scarlet hypocrite! Here, Gloucester's men beat out Bishop of Winchester's men, and enter in the Hurley-Burley, the mayor of London and his officers.

Vy lords! That you being supreme magistrates, thus contumeliously should break the peace. Peace, Mayor, thou knowest little of my wrongs. Here's Boffert that regards nor God nor King hath here to strain the tower to his use. Here's Gloucester, a foe to citizens, one that still motions war and never peace, overcharging your free purses with large fines,

that seeks to overthrow religion, because he is protector of the realm, and would have armour here out of the tower, to crown himself king and suppress the prince. I will not answer thee with words, but blows. Here they skirmish again. Nort rests for me in this tumultuous strife,

but to make open proclamation. Come, officer, as loud as air thou canst cry. All manner of men assembled here in arms this day against God's peace and the kings, we charge and command you, in His Highness's name, to repair to your several dwelling places, and not to wear, handle, or use any sword, weapon, or dagger, henceforward, upon pain of death. Cardinal, I'll be no breaker of the law, but we shall meet and break our minds at large.

Gloucester, we will meet, to thy cost be sure. Thy heart blood I will have for this day's work. I'll call for clubs, if you will not away. This cardinals more haughtier than the devil. Mayor, farewell. Well, thou does but what thou mayst. Abominable Gloucester, guard thy head, for I intend to have it ere long. Exeunt, severally, Gloucester, and the Bishop of Winchester with their serving men.

See the coast cleared, and then we will depart. Good God, these nobles should such stomachs bear. I myself fight not once in forty year. Exxon Scene 4 Orleans Enter on the walls A Master Gunner and his boy Sirrah, thou know'st how Arleon is besieged

And how the English have the suburbs won Father, I know, and oft have shot at them, Howe'er unfortunate I missed my aim. But now thou shalt not, Be thou ruled by me. Chief Master Gunner am I of this town, Something I must do to procure me grace. the prince's espials have informed me how the english in the suburbs close entrenched want through a secret grate of iron bars in yonder tower to overpeer the city and then discover how with most advantage they may vex us with shot or with assault

to intercept this inconvenience a piece of ordnance against it i have placed and even these three days have i watched if i could see them now do thou watch for I can stay no longer. If thou spys'd any, run and bring me word, and thou shalt find me at the governors. Exit. Father, I warrant you, take you no care. I'll never trouble you if I may spy them. Exit.

Enter on turrets, Salisbury and Talbot, Glensdale, Gargrave, and others. Talbot, my life, my joy, again returned. How would thou handled being prisoner, or by what means got'st thou to be released? Discourse, I pray thee, on this turret's top. The yoke of Bedford had a prisoner called the brave Lord Ponton to Sancharay.

For him was I exchanged and ransomed, but with a base of man of arms by far. Once in contempt they would have bartered me, which I, disdaining, scorned, and craved death, rather than I would be so vile esteemed, in fine, redeemed I was as I desired. But, oh, the treacherous fast off wounds my heart, home with my bare fists I would execute, if I now had him brought into my power.

Yet tell'st thou not how thou wert entertained. With scoffs and scorns and contumilius taunts, in open marketplace, but used they me to be a public spectacle to all, Here, said they, is the terror of the French, the scarecrow that affrights our children saw. Then broke I from the officers that led me, with my nails, digged stones out of the ground. To heard of the beholders of my shame, my grisily countenance made others fly. Nandurs come near, for fear of sudden death.

Yet iron walls they deign me not secure. So great fear of my name, amongst them was spread. that they supposed I could rend bars of steel and spurring in pieces, posts of adamant, wherefore a gar of chosen shot I had that walked about me every minute while, and if I did but stir out of my bed, ready they were to shoot me to the heart.

Enter the boy with a lindstock. I grieve to hear what torments you endured, but we will be revenged sufficiently. now at a supper time in Orleans Here through this great I count each one And view the Frenchmen how they fortify Let us look in, the sight will much delight thee Sir Thomas Gargrave and Sir William Glonstale

Let me have your express opinions Where is the best place to make our battery next? I think at the North Gate For there stand lords And I here at the bulwark at the bridge For aught I see The city must be very special Oh, with light skirmishes infebled.

Here they shoot. Salisbury and Gargrave fall. O Lord, have mercy on us, wretched sinners. O Lord, have mercy on me, woeful man. What chance is this that suddenly hath crossed us? Speak, Salisbury, at least if thou canst speak. How fairest thou, mirror of old martial men? One of thy eyes and thy cheek,

side struck off. A cursed tower, a cursed fatal hand that hath contrived this woeful tragedy. In thirteen battles Salisbury overcame, and wither fifth he fared train to the wars, whilst any trumpeted sound or drums struck up, his ordinary lay striking in the field. Yet liveest thou, Salisbury? Though thy speech doth fail, one eye thou hast, to look to heaven for grace. The sun with one eye vieweth all the world. Heaven, be thou gracious and none alive, if Solisbury wants mercy at thy hands. Bear hence his body, I will help to bury it. Sir Thomas Gargrave, ask thou any life? Speak under Talbot. Nay, look up to him. Solisbury, cheer thy spirit with his comfort. Thou shalt not die wiles. He begs me. He begs me.

with his hand and smiles on me as who should say when i am dead and gone remember to avenge me on the french plantagenet i will like thee nero play on the lute beholding the town's burn richard shall france be only in my name hear an alarum and it thunders and lightens what stir is this what tumults in the heavens whence comes this alarum and the noise enter a messenger my lord my lord the french have gathered head the dauphin with one joan la pucelle joined a holy prophetess new risen up he's come with a great power to raise the siege here salisbury lifteth himself up and groans here how dying salisbury doth groan it erks his heart he cannot be revenged frenchman i'll be a salisbury to you pussle or puzzle jolfan or dogfish your hearts will stamp out with my horse's heels and make a quagmire of your mingled brains convey me solace-bray into his dent and then we'll try what these dusted frenchmen dare alarum Exxient Scene 5, the same. Here and Alarum again,

and Talbot pursueth the dolphin, and driveth him, then enter Joan La Poussel, driving Englishmen before her, and exit after them, then re-enter Talbot. Where is my strength, my valet, and my force? Now these troops retire, I cannot stay them. A woman, gladied armor, chase the third.

Re-enter Joan Lafusel. Here, here she comes. I'll have a bout with thee. Devil, for devil's damn I'll conjure thee. Blood will I draw on thee. Thou art a witch. Threatly give thy soul to him thou servest. Come, come, tis only I that must disgrace thee.

Here they fight. Heavens? Can you suffer hell so to par of hell? my breast out burst with strainy of my courage and from my shoulders crack my arms asunder but i will chastise this high-minded strump it they fight again talbot farewell thy hour is not yet come i must go victor or leon force with a short alarm then enter the town with soldiers oh take me if thou canst i scorn thy strength go go go So cheer up thy hungry-starved man, Help Salisbury to make his testament. This day is ours, as many more shall be.

Exit. My thoughts are word, like a potter's wheel. I know not where I am, nor what I do. A witch, by fear, not false, like Hannibal, thrives back our troops and conquers as she lists. So bees with smoke and doves with nois and stench are from their hives and houses driven away. They called us for our fiercenest English dogs.

Now, like to whelps, we crying run away. A short alarum. Our countrymen, either renew the fight, or tear their lions out of England's coat. Renounce your soil, give sheep in lion's stead. Sheep run not so half so treacherous from the wolf, or horse or oxen from the leopard, as you fly from your oft-subdued slaves.

Alarm, hear another skirmish. It will not be. Retire into your trenches. You all consented until Salisbury's death. The nun would strike a stroke in his revenge. Purcell is entered into O'Leon, in spite of us or ought that we could do. Oh, were I to die with Salisbury,

the shame hereof will make me hide. my head. Exit Talbot, Alarum, retreat, flourish. Scene six, the same. Enter on the walls, Joan La Poussela, Charles, Rainier, Alan Seon and soldiers. Advance are waving colors on the walls. Rescue this Orleans from the English. Thus, Joan La Pusel has performed her word. Divinest creature, astrayest thought. How shall I honor thee for this success? Thy promises are like Adonis gardens, that one day bloomed and fruitful were the next. France!

Triumph in thy glorious prophetess! Recovered is the town of Orleans. More blessed hap did ne'er befall our state. Why ring not out the bells aloud throughout the town? Dauphin command the citizens make bonfires and feast and banquet in the open streets to celebrate the joy that God hath given us. All France will be replete with mirth and joy when they shall hear how we have played the men. Tis John, not we by whom the day is won, for which I will divide my crown with her,

and all the priests and friars in my run shall in procession sing her endless praise. A statelyer pyramist to her are rear than Rydolf's or Memphis ever was. In memory of her when she is dead, her ashes in an urn more precious than their rich jeweled of Darius, transported shall be at high festivals, before the kings and queens of France. No longer on Sandinie will we cry, but Joan La Pusella shall be France's saint. Come in and let us banquet royally after this golden day of victory. Flourish, exaunt. End of Act 1

Act 2 of Henry 6th, Part 1 by William Shakespeare. This is a Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. Act 2. Scene 1. Before Orleans Enter a sergeant of a band with two senadals. 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 sergeant you shall exit

thus our poor servitors when others sleep upon their quiet beds constrained to watch in darkness rain and cold enter talbot bedford burgundy and forces with scaling ladders their drums beat a dead march Lord, Regent, and redoubted Burgundy, by whose approach the Regents of Atroix, Wallon, and Piccaddy 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 acquittance their deceit, contrived by art and baleful sorcery. Coward of France! How much he wrongs his fame, despairing of his own arm's fortitude, to judge. Join with witches and the help of hell.

Traders have never other company. But what's that Purcell of whom they term so pure? A maid, they say. A maid? And be so martial. Pray God she proved not masculine a long, If underneath the standard of the French, she carry armour if she hath begun. Well, let them practice and converse with spirits.

God is our fortress, in whose conquering name let us resolve to scale a flinty bulwarks. ascend, brave Talbot. We will follow thee. Not all together, better far, I guess, that we do make our entrance several ways. That, if a chance the one of us do fail, the other yet may rise against their force. Agreed. I'll to yond corner. And I to this.

And here will Talbot mount or make his grave. And now, Salisbury, for thee and for the right of English Henry, shall this knight appear. How much in duty I am bound to both. Arm, arm, the enemy that make assault. Cry, St. George, a Talbot. The French leap over the walls in their shirts. Enter several ways, the bastard of Orleans, Alon, and Rainier, half ready and half unready.

How now, my lords, what are unready so? Unready, I am glad. We had we escaped so well. It was time I trod to wake and leave our beds, hearing all our rooms at our chamber doors. Of all exploits since first I followed arms, ne'er heard I of a warlike enterprise more venturous or desperate than this. I think this talbot be a fiend of hell.

If not of hell, the heavens sure favor him. Here comeeth Charles, I marvel how he sped. T'rt. Holy John was his defensive guard. Enter Charles and Joan La Pusel. Is this thy cunning thou deceitful dame? Didst thou at first to flatter us with all, Make us partakers of a little gain

That now our loss might be ten times so much? Wherefore is Charles impatient with his friend? At all times, will you have my power alike? Sleeping or waking? Must I still prevail, or will you blame, or will you blame, and lays a fault on me? impoveridant soldiers had your watch been good this sudden mischief never could have fallen duke of allancourt this was your default that being captain of the watch to-night did look no better to that weighty charge had all your quarters been as safely kept as that whereof i had the government we had not been thus shamefully surprised mine was secure and so was mine my lord

And for myself, most part of all this night within her quarter and mine own precinct, I was employed in passing, to and fro, about relieving of the sentinels. Then how, or which way should they first break in? Question, my lords, no further of the case. How or which way? Tis sure they found some place but weakly guarded, where the breach was made. And now there rests no other shift but this. to gather our soldiers scattered and dispersed and lay new platforms to end-damage them.

Alarum. Enter an English soldier, crying. A Talbot, a Talbot. They fly, leaving their clothes behind. I'll be so bold to take what they have left. The cry of Talbot serves me for a sword, for I have loaded me with many spoils using no other weapon but his name. Exit.

Scene 2. Orleans. Within the town. Enter Talbot. Bedford, Burgundy, a captain, and others. The day begins to break and night is fled, whose pitchy mantle overveiled the earth. Here sound retreat and cease our hot pursuit. Retreat sounded. Bring forth the body of old Salisbury, and here advance it in the marketplace, the middle center of this cursed town. Now have I paid my vow unto his soul, for every drop of blood was drawn from him, there hath at least five Frenchmen died to-night, and that hereafter ages may behold what ruined happened in revenge of him, within the chiefest temple, I'll erect the tomb, wherein his corpse shall be interred.

Upon the witch that everyone may read shall be engraved the sack of O'Leon, the treacherous manner of his mournful death, and what a terror he had been to France. But, lords, in all our bloody massacre, I musk, we met not with the dauphin's grace, his newfound champion, virtuous Joan of Hark, nor any of his false confederates. Tis thought, Lord Talbot, when the fight began,

roused on the sudden from their drowsy beds, they did amongst the troops of armed men leap over the walls for refuge in the field. Myself, as far as I could well discern, for smoke and dusky vapours of the night, I'm sure I scared the dolphin and his troll, when arm in arm they both came swiftly running, like to a pair of loving turtle-doves that could not live a sunday or night. After that, things are set in order here. We'll follow them with all the power we have. Enter a messenger. All hail, my lords, which of this princely train

call ye the warlike Talbot, for his act so much applauded through the realm of France? here is the tybalt who would speak with him the virtuous lady countess of auvergna with modesty admiring thy renown by me entreats great lord thou wouldst vouch safe to visit her poor castle where she lies that she may boast she hath beheld the man whose glory fills the world with loud report is it even so nay then i see our wars will turn into a peaceful comic sport when ladies crave to be encountered with you may not my lord despise her gentle suit ne'er trust me then for when a word of men could not prevail with all her oratory yet hath a woman's kindness overruled and therefore tell her i return great thanks and in submission will attend on her will not your honours bear me company no truly it is more than manners will and i have heard it said unbidden guests are often welcomeest when they are gone well then alone since there's no remedy, I mean to prove this lady's courtesy. Come here, Captain. Whispers.

You perceive my mind. I do, my lord, and mean accordingly. Exhaunt. Scene three. Avernier. The Countess's castle. Enter the Countess and her porter. Porter.

Remember what I gave in charge, and when you have done so, bring the keys to me. Madam, I will. Exit. The plot is laid. If all things fall out right, I shall as famous be by this exploit, as Cythian Tomras by Cyrus's death. Great is the rumor of this dreadful night, and his achievements of no less account. Fain would mine eyes be witness with mine ears, to give their censure of these rare reports.

Enter Messenger and Talbot. Madam, according as your ladyship desired by message craved, so is Lord Talbot come. And he is welcome. What? Is this the man? Madam it is. Is this the scourge of France? Is this the Talbot so much feared abroad, that with his name the mother still their babes?

I see report as fabulous and false. I thought I should have seen some Hercules, a second Hector, for his grim aspect, and large proportion of his strong-knit limbs. Alas, this is a child, a silly dwarf. It cannot be this weak and writhel, shrimp should strike such terror to his enemies. Madam, I have been bold to trouble you, but since your ladyship is not a leisure,

I'll sought some other time to visit you. What means he now? Go ask him whether he goes. Stay, my lord Talbot, for my lady craves to know the cause of your abrupt departure. Mary, for that she's in a wrong belief. I go to certify her Talbot's here. Re-enter Porter with keys. If thou be he, then art thou prisoner. Prisonate?

To whom? To me, bloodthirsty Lord, and for that cause I train thee to my house. Long time thy shadow hath been thrall to me, for in my gallery thy picture hangs. But now the substance shall endure the like, and I will chain these legs and arms of thine, that hast by tyranny these many years,

wasted our country, slain our citizens, and sent our sons and husbands captivate. ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha laughest thou wretch thy mirth shall turn to moon i laugh to see your ladyship so fond to think that you have aught but told but shero whereon to practise your severity why art not thou the man i am indeed then have i substance too no no i am but the shadow of myself you are deceived my substance is not here for what you see is but the small smallest part, and least proportion of humanity. I tell you, madam, were the whole frame here, it is of such spacious lofty pitch, your roof were not sufficient to contain it. This is a riddling merchant for the nuns. He will be here, and yet he is not here. How can these contraries agree? That will I show you presently.

Wins his horn. Drum strike up, appeal of ordinance. Enter soldiers. I'll see you, madam, are you now persuaded that Talbot is but shadow of himself? These are his substance, sinews, arms, and strength, with which he yoketh your rebellious necks, raises your cities, and subverts your towns, and in a moment makes them desolate. Victorious Talbot, pardon my abuse, I find thou art no less than fame hath brooded, and more than may be gathered by thy shape. Let my presumption not provoke thy wrath, for I am sorry that with reverence I did not entertain thee as thou art.

Be not dismayed, fair lady, nor must control the mind of Talbot, as you did mistake the outward composition of his body. What you have done hath not offended me, and of other satisfaction do I crave, but only with your patience that we may taste of your wish. wine and see what gaits you have. For soldiers' stomachs always serve them well. With all my heart, and make me honored to feast a greater warrior in my house.

Exhaunt Scene 4, London, The Temple Garden, Enter the Earls of Somerset, Suffolk, and Warwick, Richard Plantagenet, Vernon, and another lawyer. Great lords and gentlemen, what means this silence? dare no man answer in a case of truth. Within the temple wall we were too loud. The garden here is more convenient.

Then say it once, if I maintained the truth or else was wrangling Somerset in the error. Faith I have been a truant in the law, and never yet could frame my will to it, and therefore frame the law unto my will. Judge you, my lord of Warwick then between us. Between two hawks, which flies the higher pitch, between two dogs, which hath the deeper mouth,

between two blades, which bears the better temper, Between two horses, which doth bear him best, Between two girls, which hath the merriest die? I have perhaps some shallow spirit of judgment, But in these nice sharp quillets of the law, Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw. Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbearance. The truth appears so naked on my side

that any purblind I may find it out. And on my side it is so well appareled, so clear, so shining, and so evident that it will glimmer through a blind man's eye. Since you are tongue-tied and so loath to speak, in dumb significance proclaim your thoughts. Let him that is a true-born gentleman and stands upon the honor of his birth, if he suppose that I have pleaded truth, from off this briar pluck a white rose with me. 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 i love no colours and without all colour of base insinuating flattery i pluck this white rose with plantagenet i pluck this red rose with young somerset and say with all i think he held the right stay words and gentlemen and pluck no more till you conclude that he upon whose side the fewest roses are cropped from the tree shall yield the other in the right opinion

Good Master Vernon, it is well objected. If I have fewest, I subscribe in silence. And I. 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. Brick not your finger as you pluck it off, less bleeding you do paint the white rose red and fall on my side so against your will.

If I, my lord, for my opinion bleed, opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt, and keep me on the side where still I am. Well, well, come on, who else? Unless my study and my books be false, the argument to be held was wrong in you. To Somerset. Inside whereof, I pluck a white rose, too. Now, Somerset, where is your argument? Here in my scabbard, meditating that shall dye your white rose in a bloody red.

Meantime, your cheeks do counterfeit our roses, for pale they look with fear as witnessing the truth on our side. No, Plantagenet, Tis not for fear, but anger thy cheeks blush for pure shame to counterfeit our roses, and yet thy tongue will not confess thy error. Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset. Hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantagenet? I, sharp and piercing, to maintain his truth, whilst thy consuming canker eats his falsehood. Well, I'll find friends to wear my bleeding roses that shall maintain what I have said is true, where false, Plantagenet, dare not be seen.

Now by this maiden blossom in my hand I scorn thee and thy fashion, peevish boy. Dare not thy scorns this way, Plantagenet. Proud Paul, I will, and scorn both him and thee. I'll turn my part that I have into thy throat. Away, away, good William de la Poe. We grace the yeoman by conversing with him. Now, by God's will, thou wrongest him, Somerset. His grandfather was Lionel, Duke of Clarence,

third son to the third Edward, king of England. Spring crestless yeoman from so deep a root? He bears him on the place's privilege, or durst not for his craven heart say thus. By him that made me I'll maintain my words on any plot of ground in Christendom. Was not thy father, Richard Earl of Cambridge, for treason executed in our late king's days? And by his treason, stance not thou retained, corrupted and exempt from ancient gentry. His trespass yet lives guilty in thy blood.

Until thou be restored, thou art a yeoman. was attached, not a tainted, condemned to die for treason, but no traitor, and that I'll prove on better men than Somerset were growing time once ripened to my will. For your part-taker pole, and you yourself, I'll note you in my book of memory to scourge you for this apprehension. Look to it well, and say you are well-warned. Ah, thou shalt find us ready for thee still, and knowest by these colors at four thy foes, for these my friends, in spite of thee shall wear. And by my soul, this pale and angry rose, as cognizance of my blood-drinking hate,

will I forever and my faction wear, until it wither with me to my grave, or flourish to the height of my degree. Go forward and be choked with thy ambition. And so farewell, until I meet thee next. Exit. Have with thee, Pole. Farewell, ambitious Richard. Exit.

How I am braved, and must perforce endure it. This blot that they object against your house shall be wiped out in the next Parliament called for the truce of Winchester and Gloucester. And if thou be not then created York, I will not live to be accounted Warwick. Meantime, in signal of my love to thee, against Proud Somerset and William Pole, will I upon thy party where this rose? And here I prophesy, this broad. all today, grown to this faction in the temple garden, shall send between the red rose and the

white a thousand souls to death and deadly night. Good master Vernon, I am bound to you that you on my behalf would pluck a flower. In your behalf, still I will wear the same. And so will I. Thanks, gentle, sir. Come, let us for to dinner. I dare say this quarrel will drink blood another day. Exxon Scene 5, the Tower of London Enter Mortimer, Brought in a chair,

And jailers Kind keepers of my weak decaying age, Let dying Mortimer here rest himself. Even like a man new hailed from the rack, So fare my limbs with long imprisonment. And these grey locks the persuvance of death, Nestor-like, aged in an age of care, argue the end of edmund mortimer these eyes like lamps whose wasting oil is spent wax dim as drawing to their exigent

weak shoulders overborne with burthening grief and pithless arms like to a withered vine that droops his sapless branches to the ground yet are these feet whose strengthless stay is numb unable to support this lump of clay, swift-winged with desire to get a grave, as witting I no other comfort have. But tell me, keeper, will my nephew come? Richard Plantagenet, my lord, will come. We send him to the temple and to his chamber, and answer was returned that he will come. Enough, my soul shall then be satisfied. Poor gentleman, his wrong, death equal. will mine. Since Henry Monmouth first began to reign, before whose glory I was great in arms,

this loathsome sequestration have I had, and even since then hath Richard been obscured, deprived of honor and inheritance. But now the arbitrator of despairs, just death, kind umpire of men's miseries, with sweet enlargement doth dismiss me hence. I would his troubles likewise were expired, that so he might recover what was lost. Enter Richard Plantagenet. My lord, your loving nephew now is come. Richard Plantagenet, my friend, is he come? I, noble uncle, thus ignobly used. Your nephew, late despised Richard Cungs.

Direct mine arms I may embrace his neck, and in his bosom, spend, my latter gasp. Oh, tell me when my lips do touch his cheeks, that I may kindly give one fainting kiss. And now declare, sweet stem from York's great stock, why didst thou say, of late thou wert despised? First lean thine aged back against mine arm, and, in that ease, I'll tell thee my dis-ease. This day, in argument upon a case, some words there grew. Twixt Somerset and me, among which terms he used his lavish tongue, and did upbraid me with my father's death, which obloquy set bars before my tongue, else with the like I had requited him. Therefore, good uncle, for my father's sake, in honour of a true plantagenet, and for alliance's sake,

declare the cause, my father, Earl of Cambridge, lost his head. That cause, fair nephew, that imprisoned me, and hath detained me all my, My flowering youth within a loathsome dungeon, there to pine, was cursed instrument of his decease. Discover more at large what cause that was, for I am ignorant and cannot guess. I will, if that my fading breath permit and death approach not ere my tale be done. Henry IV, grandfather to this king, deposed his nephew Richard Edward's son, the first begotten and the lawful heir of Edward King, the third of that descent. During whose reign the Perses of the North, finding his usurpation most unjust,

endeavored my advancement to the throne. The reason moved these warlike lords to this was, for that young King Richard thus removed, leaving no heir begotten of his body, I was the next by birth and parentage, for by my mother I derived am from Lionel, Duke of Clarence, the third son to King Edward III, whereas he from John of Gaunt doth bring his pedigree, being but fourth of that heroic line. But, Mark, as in this haughty attempt they laboured to plant the rightful air, I lost my love.

liberty, and they, their lives. Long after this, when Henry V, succeeding his father Bolingbroke, did reign, thy father, Earl of Cambridge, then derived from famous Edmund Langley, Duke of York, marrying my sister that thy mother was, again in pity of my hard distress, levied an army, weaning to redeem

and have installed me in the diadem. but as the rest so fell that noble earl and was beheaded. Thus the mortimers, in whom the tide rested, were suppressed. Of which, my lord, your honor is the last. True, and thou seest that I no issue have, and that my fainting words do warrant death. Thou art my heir, the rest I wish thee gather. But yet, be wary in thy studious care.

Thy grave admonishments prevail with me, But yet, methinks, my father's execution was nothing less than bloody tyranny. With silence, nephew, be thou politic. Strong fixed is the house of Lancaster, And like a mountain, not to be removed. But now thy uncle is removing hence, As princes do their courts when they are, are cloyed with long continuance in a settled place.

O uncle, would some part of my young years might but redeem the passage of your age? Thou dost then wrong me as that slaughterer doth, which giveth many wounds when one will kill. Mourn not, except thou sorrow for my good, only give order for my funeral. And so, farewell, and fair will. and fair be all thy hopes, and prosperous be thy life, in peace and war.

Dyes. And peace, no war, before thy parting soul. In prison hast thou spent a pilgrimage, and like a hermit overpast thy days. Well, I will lock his counsel in my breast, and what I do imagine let that rest. Keepers, convey him hence, and I myself will see his bed. better than his life. Exxiant, jailers, bearing out the body of Mortimer. Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer, choked with ambition of the meaner sort,

and for those wrongs those bitter injuries, which Somerset hath offered to my house, I doubt not but with honour to redress, and therefore haste I to the Parliament, either to be restored to my blood, or make my ill the advantage of my good. Exit. End of Act 2 Act 3 of Henry 6th Part 1 By William Shakespeare This is a Librevox recording

All Librevox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer Please visit Libravox.org Act 3 Scene 1, London The Parliament House Flourish Enter King Henry 6th

Exeter Glouster Warwick Somerset and Sophick, the Bishop of Winchester, Richard Plantagenet, and others. Gloucester offers to put up a bill. Bishop of Winchester snatches it, and tears it. Comeest thou with deep premeditated lines, with written pamphlets studiously devised, Humphrey of Gloucester? If thou canst accuse, or ought intendest to lay unto my charge, do it without invention, suddenly, as I, with sudden and extemporal speech purpose to answer what thou canst object.

Presumptuous priest, this place commands my patience. All thou shouldst find thou hast dishonoured me. Think not, although in writing I prefer, the manner of thy vile outrageous crimes, but therefore I have forged or am not able verbatim to rehearse the method of my pen. No, prelate, such is thy audacious wickedness. thy lewd, pestiferous, and dissentious pranks, as very infants prattle of thy pride. Thou art a most pernicious usurer, forward by nature enemy to peace, lascivious, wanton, more than well beseems, a man of thy profession and degree, and, for thy treachery,

what's more manifest, in that thou laid'st a trap to take my life? As well at London Bridge is at the tower. Besides, I fear me if thy thoughts were sifted. The king, thy sovereign, is not quite exempt from envious malice of thy swelling heart. Gloucester, I do defy thee. Lords vouchsafe to give me hearing what I shall reply. If I were covetous, ambitious, or perverse, as he will have me, how am I so poor? And how, haps it, I seek not to advance or raise myself, but keep my wanted calling?

And for dissension, who prefereth peace more than I do, except I be provoked? No, my good lords, it is not that offends, it is not that that hath incensed the Duke. It is because no one should sway but he. No one but he should be about the king, and that engenders thunder in his breast, and makes him roar these accusations forth. But he shall know I am as good— As good, thou bastard of my grandfather! Aye, lordly sir, for what are you, I pray, but one imperious in another's throne.

Am I not protector, saucy priest? And am not I a prelate of the church? Yes, as an outblower in a castle keeps and useth it to patronage his theft. Unreverent, Glou art reverent, touching thy spiritual function, not by life. Rome shall remedy this. Rome thither, then. My lord, it were your duty to forbear. Aye, see the bishop be not overborne.

Methinks my lord should be religious and know the office that belongs to such. Methinks his lordship should be humbler. It fiteth not a prelate so to plead. Yes, when his holy state is touched so near. State holy or unhallowed? What of that? Is not his grace protector to the king? Aside. Plantagenet, I see, must hold his tongue, lest it be said, Speak, sir, when you should. Must your bold verdict enter talk with Lord? "'Els would I have a fling at Winchester?'

"'Uncles of Gloucester and of Winchester. "'The special watchman of our English wheel. "'I would prevail, if prayers might prevail, "'to join your hearts in love and amity. "'Oh, what a scandal is it to our crown "'that two such noble peers as ye should jar? "'Believe me, lords, "'my tender years can tell

"'civil dissension is a viprous worm "'that gnaws the bowels of the Commonwealth.' "'A noise within. Down with the tonycoats. What chumont's this? An uproar, I dare warrant, begun through malice of the bishop's men. A noise again. Stones, stones.

Enter mayor. Oh, my good lords, and virtuous Henry. Pity the city of London. Pity us. The bishop and the Duke of Gloucester's men, forbidden late to carry any weapon, have filled their pockets full of, pebble stones and banding themselves in contrary parts do pelt so fast at one another's

pate that many have their giddy brains knocked out. Our windows are broke down in every street and we for fear compelled to shut our shops. Enter serving men in skirmish with bloody pates. We charge you on allegiance to ourself to hold your slaughtering hands and keep the peace. Pray Uncle Gloucester mitigate this strife. Nay, if we be forbidden stones, we'll fall to it with our teeth.

Do what ye dare. We are as resolute. Scirmish again. You of my household leave, this peevish broil, and set this unaccustomed fight aside. My lord, we know your grace to be a man just an upright,

and for your royal birth inferior to none but to his majesty. And ere that we will suffer such a prince, so kind a father of the common will to be disgraced by an inkhorn mate, we and our wives and children all will fight and have our body slaughtered by thy foes. Aye, and the very pairings of our nails shall pitch a field when we are dead. Begin again.

Stay, stay, I say, and if you love me, as you say you do, let me persuade you to forbear a while. Oh, how this discord doth afflict my soul! Can you, my lord of Winchester, behold my sighs and tears and will not once relent? Who should be pitiful if you be not? Or who should study to prefer a peace if holy churchmen take delight in broils? Yield, my lord, protector. Yield, Winchester, except you mean with obstinate repulse to slay your sovereign and destroy the realm. You see what mischief and what murder too hath been enacted through your enmity. Then be at peace, except you thirst for blood.

He shall submit, or I will never yield. Compassion on the king commands me stoop, or I would see his heart out, Here the priest should ever get that privilege of me. Behold, my lord of Winchester, The Duke hath banished moody, discontented fury, As by his smooth brows it doth appear. Why look you still so stern and tragical? Here, Winchester, I offer thee my hand.

Fie, Uncle Beaufort, I have heard you preach that malice was a great and grievous sin, And will you not maintain the thing you teach But prove a chief offender in the same? Sweet king, the bishop hath a kind of, GERD. For shame, my lord of Winchester, relent. What? Shall a child instruct you what to do? Well, Duke of Gloucester, I will yield to thee. Love for thy love and hand for hand I give. Aside. Ay, but I feign me with a hollow heart. See here, my friends and loving countrymen,

this token serveth for a flag of truce betwixt ourselves and all our followers. So help me God as I dissembled not. Aside. So help me God as I intend it not. O loving uncle, kind Duke of Gloucester, how joyful am I made by this contract. Away, my masters, trouble us no more, but join in friendship as your lords have done. Content, alter the surgeons. And so will I.

And I will see what physic the tavern affords. Exeunt, serving men, mayor, etc. Accept this scroll, most gracious sovereign, which in the right of Richard B, Plantagenet we do exhibit to your majesty. Well urged, my lord of Warwick, or sweet prince, and if your grace, mark every circumstance, you have great reason to do Richard right, especially for those occasions at Eltham Place, I told your majesty. And those occasions, uncle, were of force.

Therefore, my loving lords, our pleasure is that Richard be restored to his blood. Let Richard be restored to his blood, so shall his father's wrongs be recompensed. "'As will the rest, so willeth Winchester. "'If Richard will be true, "'not that alone, but all the whole inheritance I give "'that doth belong unto the house of York, "'from whence you spring by lineal descent. "'Thy humble servant vows obedience

"'and humble service till the point of death. "'Stoop then, and set your knee against my foot, "'and in regerdin of that duty done, "'I gird thee with the valiant sword of York. "'Rise, Richard, like a true plantageness, and rise created princely duke of york and so thrive richard as thy foes may fall and as my duty springs so perish they that grudge one thought against your majesty welcome high prince the mighty duke of york aside perish base prince ignoble duke of york now will it best avail your majesty to cross the seas and to be crowned in france the presence of The king engenders love amongst his subjects and his loyal friends, as it disanimates his enemies.

When Gloucester says the word King Henry goes, full friendly counsel cuts off many foes. Your ships already are in readiness. Senate, flourish, exeunt, all but exeter. Now, we may march in England or in France, not seeing what is likely to ensue. This late dissension, groan betwixt the piers, burns under faint ashy defore love, and will at last break out into a flame. As vested members rot,

but by degree till bones and flesh and sinews fall away, so will this base and envious discord breed. And now I fear that fatal prophecy which in the time of Henry, named the fifth, was in the mouth of

every sucking babe, that Henry born at Monmouth should win all, and Henry born at Windsor-lose-all. which is so plain that Exeter doth wish his days may finish air that hapless time. Exit Scene 2, France, before Rowan. Enter Jean-La Pusel, disguised with four soldiers with sacks upon their backs.

These are the city gates, the gates of Rouen, through which our policy must make a breach. Take heed, be wary how you place your words. Talk like the vulgar sort of marketmen that come to gather. money for their corn. If we have entrance, as I hope we shall, and that we find the slothful watch but weak, our by a sign, give notice to our friends that Charles the dophin may encounter them. Our sacks shall be a mean to sack the city, and we be lords and rulers over ruin, therefore we'll knock. Knocks. Within. Who are there? Paisant, poor people of France. Poor market folks that come to

their corn. Enter, go in. The market bill is wrong. Now, Ruan, I'll shake their bulwarks to the ground. Exxion. Enter Charles,

the bastard of Orleans, Alan Cion, Rainier, and forces. Sandoni blessed this happy stratagem, and once again we'll sleep secure

in Ruan. Here entered Puccell and our practicant. Now she is there. How will she specify where is the best and safest passage in? By thrusting out a torch from yonder tower, which once discerned shows that her meaning is,

no way to that for weakness which she entered. Enter Joan La Pussel on the top, thrusting out a torch burning. Behold, this is the happy wedding torch that joins Ruan unto her countrymen, but burning fatal to the tabotides. Exit. See, noble child, the beacon of our friend, the burning torch in yonder turret stands.

Now shine it like a comet of revenge, a prophet to the fall of all our foes. Differ no time delays have dangerous ends. Enter and cry, the dauphin presently, and then do execution on the watch. Alarum. Exxiant. An alarm. Enter Talbot. in an excursion france thou shalt rue this treason with thy tears if tolbert but survive thy treachery purcell that witch that damned sorceress hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares that hardly we escape the pride of france exit an alarum excursions bedford brought in sick in a chair enter talbot and burgundy without within

joan la pucelle charles bastard of orleans allan sion and rainier on the walls good morgue gallants won't ye count for bread i think the duke of burgundy will fast before he'll buy again at such a rate twas full of tarnaul do you like the taste scoff on vile fiend and shameless cortisanne i trust ere long to choke thee with thine own and make thee curse the harvest of that corn your grace may starry starry'st and make thee curse the harvest of that corn your grace may starry star perhaps before that time. Oh, let no words but deeds revenge this treason. What will you do, good grey beard? Break her lens and run a tilt at death within a chair?

Thou fiend of France and hag of all this spite encompassed with thy lustful paramours. Becomes at thee to taunt his valiant age and twit with cowardice a man half dead? Damsel,

I'll have about with thee again or else let Talbot perish with the shame. Are you so hot, sir? Yet, Pusel, hold thy peace. If Talb would do but thunder, rain will follow. The English whispered together in council. God speed the parliament. Who shall be the speaker?

Dare he come forth and meet us in the field? Be like your lordship takes us then for fools to try if that our own be ours or no. I speak not to that railing hecate, but unto thee, Alenso, and the rest, will ye, like soldiers, come and fight it out? Signor, no. Signor, hang, base muleteers of France. Like peasant footboys, do they keep the walls, and dare not take up arms like gentlemen. Away, captains, let's get us from the walls, for Talbot means no goodness by his looks. God be with you, my lord.

We came but to tell you that we are here. Exeunt from the walls. And there will we be too, ere it be long, or else reproach be Toilbert's greatest fame. Thou, burgundy, by honour of thou house, pricked on by public wrongs sustained in France, either to get the town again or die. And I, as sure as English Henry lives,

and as his father here was conqueror, as sure as in this late- betrayed town, great cur de Leon's heart was buried. So sure I swear to get the town, or die. My vows are equal partners with thy vows. But here we go. Regard this dying prince, the valiant Duke of Bedford. Come, my lord, we will bestow in some better place,

fit of a sickness, and for a crazy age. Lord Talbot do not so dishonour me. Here will I sit before the walls of Rouen and will be partner of your wheel or woe. Courageous Bedford, let us now persuade you. Not to be gone from hence, for once I read that stout Pendragon and his litter sick came to the field

and vanquished at his foes, methinks I should revive the soldier's hearts because I ever found them as myself. Undaunted spirit in a dying breast, then be it so. Heaven's keep or bedouement. bedford safe and now no more ado pray burgundy but gather we our forces out of hand and set upon our boasting enemy exeunt all but bedford and attendants an alarum excursions enter fastolf and a captain whither away sir john fastolv in such haste whither away to save myself by flight we are like to have the overthrow again what will you fly in leave, Lord Talbot?

Aye, all the Talbot's in the world to save my life. Exit. Cowardly knight, ill fortune follow thee. Exit. Retreat, excursions. Joan La Poussel, Alan Cion, and Charles fly. Now, quiet soul, depart when heaven please, for I have seen our enemy's overthrow. What is the trust or strength of foolish man?

they that of late were daring with their scoffs are glad and feign by flight to save themselves. Bedford dies and is carried in by two in his chair. An alarum. Re-enter Talbot, Burgundy, and the rest. Lost and recovered in a day again. This is a double-honour, Burgundy, yet heavens have glory for this victory. Warlike and Marshall, Talbot, Burgundy enshrines thee in his heart, and there erects thy noble deeds as valour's monuments thanks gentle duke but where is pucelle now i think our old familiar is asleep now where's the bastards braves and charles his gleaks what all amour

Rouen hangs our head for grief that such a valiant company are fled. Now we take some order in the town, placing therein some expert offices, and then depart to Paris to the king, for there young Henry with his nobles lie. What wills Lord Talbot pleases Burgundy? But yet, before we go, let's not forget the noble duke of Bedford Lake deceased, but see his exequees for feud in Rouen. a brave a soldier never couched lance a gentle heart did never sway in court but kings and mightiest potentates must die for that's the end of human misery exeont scene three the plains near ruon enter charles the bastard of orleans allan sion joan la pucelle and forces dismay not princess at this accident nor grieve that ruon is

so recovered. Care is no cure, but rather corrosive, for things that are not to be remedied. Let frantic Talbo triumph for a while, and like a peacock sweep along his tail. We'll pull his plumes and take away his train, if Tophin and the rest will be but ruled. We have been guided by thee hitherto, and of thy cunning had no diffidence. One sudden foils shall never a breed distrust. Search out I wit for secret policies, and we will make thee famous through the world. We'll set thy statue in some holy place and have thee reverenced like a blessed saint. Employ thee then, sweet virgin, for our good.

Then, thus it must be, this dose-drawn device. By fair persuasions mixed with sugared words, we will entice the Duke of Burgundy to leave the Talbot and to follow us. Ay, Mary, sweeting, if we could do that, France were no place for unraised warriors, nor should that nation boast its soul with us, but be extirped from our provinces. Forever should they be exposed from France

and not have title of an earldom here. Your honors shall perceive how I will work to bring this matter to the wished end. Drum sounds afar off. Hark, by the sound of the sound of the world, Trump, you may perceive their powers are marching into Paris Ward. Hear sound an English march. Enter and pass over at a distance, Talbot and his forces.

There goes the Talbot, with his color spread, and all the troops of English after him. French march. Enter Burgundy and forces. Now in the rear world comes the Duke and his. Fortune in favor makes him lag behind. Summon a parley, we will talk with him. Trumpets sound a parley A parley with the Duke of Burgundy Who craves a parley with the Burgundy

The Prince Lichal of France Thy countrymen What sayest thou Charles For I am marching hence Speak Pusela And enchant him with thy words Brave Burgundy Undoubted hope of France

Stay Let thy humble handmaid speak to thee Speak on but be not over tedious Look on thy country Look on fertile France and see the cities and the towns defaced by wasting ruin of the cruel foe. As looks the mother on her lowly babe, when death does close his tender-tying eyes,

see, see the pining melody of France. Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds, which thou thyself hast given her woeful breast. Oh, turn thy edged sword another way, strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that help. one drop of blood drawn from thy country's bosom should grieve thee more than streams of foreign gore return thee therefore with a flood of tears and wash away thy country's stained spots either she hath bewitched me with her words or nature makes me suddenly relent besides all french and friends exclaims on thee doubting thy birth and lovel progeny who joined us thou with but with a lordly nation that will not trust thee but for for profit's sake when talbot hath set footing once in france and affashen thee that instrument of ill who then but english henry will be lord and thou be thrust out like a fugitive

call we to mind and mark but this for proof was not the duke of or leon thy foe and was he not in england prisoner but when they heard he was thine enemy they set him free without his ransom paid in spite of burgundy and all his friends. See, then, though fightest against thy countrymen, and joins us with them will be thy slaughtermen. Come, come, return, return, the wandering lord, shall, and the rest, will take thee in their arms. I am vanquished. These haughty words of hers have butted me like roaring cannon-shot, and made me almost yield upon my knees. Forgive me country, and sweet countrymen and lords, accept this hearty kind embrace. My forces and my power of men are yours. So, farewell, Talbot. I'll no longer trust thee. Aside. Done like a Frenchman. Turn and turn again. Welcome, brave duke. Thy friendship makes us fresh.

And dost beget new courage in our breasts. Puccell hath bravely played her part in this, and doth deserve a coronet of gold. Now let us on, my lords, and join our powers, and seek how we may prejudice the foe. Exxon Scene 4. Paris, the palace. Enter King Henry VI. Gloucester, Bishop of Winchester, York,

Sulfic, Somerset, Warwick, Exeter, Vernon, Basset and others, to them with his soldiers. Talbot. My gracious prince and honorable peers, hearing of your arrival in this realm, I have a while given truce unto my wars, to do my duty to my sovereign. Inside whereof this arm, that hath reclaimed your obedience, fifty fortresses, twelve cities, and seven walled towns of strength. Beside five hundred prisoners of esteem, let's fall his soul.

before your highness feet, and with submissive loyalty of heart, as scribes the glory of his conquest, God, first to my God, and next unto your grace. Neals. Is this the Lord Torbett, Uncle Gloucester, that hath so long been resident in France? Yes, if it please your majesty, my liege. Welcome, brave captain and victorious Lord. When I was young, as yet I am not old, I do remember how my father said a stouter champion never handled sword, long since we were resolved of your truth, your faithful service and your toil in

war. Yet never have you tasted our reward, or been regurdened with so much as thanks, because till now we never saw your face, therefore stand up, and for these good desserts, we here create you Earl of Shrewsbury, and in our coronation take your place. Senate, flourish, exaunt all but Vernon and Bassett. Now, sir, to you, that were so hot at sea, disgracing of these colours that I wear in honour of my noble Lord of York, darest thou maintain the former words thou spakest? Yes, sir, as well as you dare patronage the envious barking of your saucy tongue against my lord, the Duke of Somerset. Sirrah, thy lord I honour as he is.

Why, what is he, as good a man as York? E! Not so. In witness, take ye that! Strikes him. VILLEN. Thou knowest the lore of arms is such that whoso draws a sword tis present death, or else this blow should broach thy dearest blood. But I'll under his majesty, and crave I may have liberty to venge this wrong. When thou shalt see I'll meet thee to thy cost. Well, miscreant, I'll be there as soon as you, and after, meet you sooner than you would. Exxon. End of Act 3.

Act 4 of Henry VI, Part 1 by William Shakespeare. This is a Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. Act 4. Scene 1. A Hall of State. Enter King Henry VI, Gloucester, Bishop of Winchester, York, Sulfic, Somerset, Warwick, Talbot, Exeter, the Governor of Paris and others. Lord Bishop set the crown upon his head. God save King Henry, of that name the Sixth.

Now, Governor of Paris, take your oath that you elect no other king but him, esteemed and friend. but such that are his friends and none your foes but such as shall pretend malicious practices against his state this shall ye do so help you righteous god enter my gracious sovereign as i rode from calais to haste unto your coronation a letter was delivered to my hands writ to your grace from the duke of burgundy shame to the duke of burgundy and thee i vowed beast knight when i did meet thee next to tear the garter from thy craven's leg plucking it off which i have done because unweathery thou wast installed in that high degree pardon me princely angry and the rest this dastard at the battle of patte when but in all i was six thousand strong and that the french were almost ten to one before we met or that a stroke was given like to a trusty squire did run away in which assault we lost twelve hundred men myself and divers gentlemen beside were there surprised and taken prisoners then judge great lords if i have done amiss or whether that such cowards ought to wear this ornament of knighthood ye who no To say the truth, this fact was infamous, and ill be seeming any common man.

Much more a knight to Captain Arndel, leader. When first this order was ordained, my lords, knights of the garter were of noble birth, valiant and virtuous, full of haughty courage, such as were grown decreed by the wars, not fearing death nor shrinking for distress, but always resolute in most, extremes. He, then, that is not furnished in this sort, doth but usurp the sacred name of knight, profaning this most honourable order, and should, if I were worthy to be judge, be quite degraded, like a hedge-bone swain that doth presume to boast of gentle blood. Stain to thy countryman, thou hearest thy doom. Be packing, therefore, thou that wast a knight,

henceforth we banish thee on pain of death. Exit for staff. And now, my lord protector, view the letter sent from our uncle, Duke of Burgundy. What means his grace that he hath changed his style? No more but plain and bluntly. To the king, hath he forgot he is his sovereign? Or doth this churlish superscription

pretend some alteration in goodwill? What's here? Reads. I have upon a special cause moved with compassion of my country's wreck, together with the pitiful complaints of such as your oppression feeds upon, forsaken your punitious faction, and joined with Charles, the rightful king of France?

Oh, monstrous treachery, can this be so, that in alliance, amity is an oath, there should be found such false dissembling guile? What, doth my uncle Burgundy revolt? He doth, my lord, has become your foe. Is that the worst this letter, doth contain. It is the worst, and all, my lord, he writes. Why, then? Lord Talbot there shall talk with him, and give him chastisement for this abuse. How say you, my lord, are you not content?

Condent, my liege, yes, but that I am prevented, I should have begged I might have been employed. Then gather strength and march unto him straight. Let him perceive how ill we broke his treason, and what offence it is to flout his friends. I go, my lord, in heart, desiring still, you may behold confusion of your foes. Exit Enter Vernon and Basset. Grant me the combat, gracious sovereign. And me, my lord, grant me the combat too.

This is my servant. Hear him, noble prince. And this is mine, sweet Henry, favour him. Be patient, lords, and give them leave to speak. Say, gentlemen, what makes you thus exclaim? And wherefore crave you combat, or with whom? With him, my lord, for he hath done me wrong. And I with him, for he hath done me wrong. What is that wrong whereof you both complain?

First let me know, and then I'll answer you. Crossing the sea from England into France, this fellow here with envious carping tongue upbraided me about the rose I wear, saying the sanguine colour of the leaves did represent my master's blushing cheeks, when stubbornly he did repugn the truth about a certain question in the law argued betwixt the Duke of York and him, with other vile and ignominious terms, in convutation of which rude reproach, and in defence of my lord's worthiness,

I crave the benefit of law of arms. And that is my petition, noble lord, for though he's seen with forged quaint conceit, to set a gloss upon his bold intent. Yet, no, my lord, I was provoked by him, and he first took exceptions at this badge, pronouncing that the paleness of this flower beweighed the faintness of my master's heart. Will not this malice, Somerset, be left?

Your private grudge, my lord of York, will out, though near so cunningly you smother it. Good Lord! What madness rules in brain-sick men! when for so slight and frivolous a cause such factious emulations shall arise. Good cousins both of York and Somerset, quiet yourselves, I pray, and be at peace. Let this dissension first be tried by fight, and then Your Highness shall command a peace. The quarrel touches none but us alone. Betwixt ourselves let us decide it then.

There is my pledge, accept it, Somerset. Nay, let it rest, where it began at first. Confirm it so, mine honourable lord. Confirm it so, confounded be your strife, and perishy with your audacious trape, presumptuous vassals, are you not ashamed with this immodest, clamorous outrage, to trouble and disturb the king and us? And you, my lords, methinks you do not well, to bear with their perverse objections, much less to take occasion from their mouths to raise in mutiny butricks yourselves.

Let me persuade you, take a better course. It grieves His Highness, good, my Lord. Lord, be friends. Come hither, you that would be combatants. Henceforth I charge you as you love our favour, quite to forget this quarrel and the cause. And you, my lords, remember where we are, in France, amongst a fickle, wavering nation. If they perceive dissension in our looks and that within ourselves we disagree, how will their grudging stomachs be provoked to willful disobedience and rebel?

Besides, what infamy will there arise when foreign princes shall be certified, that for a toy, a thing of no regard, King Henry's peers and chief nobility destroyed themselves and lost the realm of France. O think upon the conquest of my father, my tender years, and let us not forgo that for a trifle that was bought with blood. Let me be umpire in this doubtful strife. no reason, if I wear this rose. Putting on a red rose. That anyone should therefore be suspicious, I more inclined to Somerset than York, both are my kinsman, and I love them both. As well they may upbraid me

with my crown, because forsooth the King of Scots is crowned. But your discretion's better can persuade than I am able to instruct or teach. And therefore, as we hither came in peace, so let us still continue peace and love, cousin of York, we institute your grace to be our regent in these parts of France, and, good my lord of Somerset, unite your troops of horsemen with his bands of foot, and like true subjects, sons of your progenitors, go cheerfully together and digest your angry collar on your enemies. Ourself, my lord protector and the rest, after some respite will return to Calais, from thence to England, where I hope ere long to be presented by your victories, with Charles, Alenson, and that traitorous route.

Flourish Exaunt all but York, Warwick, Exeter and Vernon. My lord of York, I promise you the King Priddley, methought, did play the orator. And so he did, but yet I like it not, in that he wears the badge of Somerset. Tush, that was but his fancy. Blame him not. I dare presume, sweet prince, he thought no harm. And if I wist he did, but let it rest.

Other affairs must now be managed. Exeunt, all but exeter. Well didst thou, Richard, to suppress thy voice, for had the passions of thy heart burst out, I fear we should have seen deciphered there, more rancrous spite, more furious, raging broils than yet can be imagined or supposed. But howsoe'er, no simple man that sees this jarring discord of nobility,

this shouldering of each other in the court, this factious bandying of their favourites, but that it doth presage some ill event. Tis much when sceptors are in children's hands, but more when envy breeds unkind division, there comes the rain, there begins confusion. Exit. Scene two.

before bordeaux enter talbot with trump and drum go to the house of bordeaux trumpeter summon a general unto the wall trumpet sounds enter general and others aloft english john talbot captains calls you forth servant in arms to harry king of england and thus he would open your city gates be humble to us call my sovereign yours and do him homage as obedient subjects and i'll withdraw me and my bloody power but if you frown upon his profit peace you tempt the fury of my three attendants lean famine quartering steel and climbing fire who in a moment even with the earth shall lay your stately and air-breathing towers if you forsake the offer of their love Thou ominous and fearful owl of death, our nation's terror and their bloody scourge, The period of thy tyranny approacheseth. On us thou canst not enter but by death. For I protest, We are well fortified and strong enough to issue out and fight. If thou retire, La Dauphin well-appointed stands with the snares of war to tangle thee. On either hand thee there are squadrons pitched,

to wall thee from the liberty of flight, and no way canst thou turn thee for redress, but death doth front thee with apparent spoil, and pale destruction meets thee in the face. Ten thousand French have tained the sacrament to rive their dangerous artillery upon no Christian soul but English Talbot. Lo there thou stance a breathing, valiant man,

of an invincible, unconquered spirit. This is the latest glory, of thy praise that eye thy enemy, Jew thee withal. For ere the glass that now begins to run, finish the process of his sandy hour, These eyes that see thee now well-coloured, Shall see thee withered, bloody, pale and dead.

Drum afar off. Hark, hark, the dauphin's drum, A warning bell, Sings heavy music to thy timorous soul, And mine shall ring thy dire departure out. Exeunt, General. "'Efebils not. I hear the enemy. "'Out, some light horsemen and peruse their wings.

"'Oh, negligent and heedless discipline! "'How are we packed and bounded in a pale, "'a little herd of England's timorous deer, "'mazed with a yelping kettle of French curse! "'If we be English dear, be then in blood, "'not ruskoo-like to fall down with a pinch, but rather moody mad and desperate stags, Turn on the bloody hounds with heads of steel,

And make the cowards stand aloof at bay. Sell every man his life as dear as mine, And they shall find dear, dear of us, my friends. God and St. George, Talbot and England's right, Prosper our colours in this dangerous fight. Exxient Scene 3. In Gascany, enter a messenger that meets York.

Enter York with trumpet and many soldiers. Are not the speedy scouts returned again that dogged the mighty army of the dauphin? They are returned, my lord, and give it out that he is marched to Bordeaux with his power, to fight with Talbot. As he marched along, by Yorish Spiles were discovered two mighty troops than that the Dauphin led, which joined with him and made their march for Bordeaux. A plague upon that villain Somerset, that thus delays my promised supply of horsemen that were levied for this siege. Renowned Talbot doth expect my aid, and I am lauded by a traitor villain, and cannot help the noble Chevalier. God comfort him in this necessity. If he miscarry, farewell wars in France.

Enter Sir William Lucy. Thou princely leader of our English strength, never so needful on the earth of France, spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot, who now is girdled with a waste of iron and hemmed about with grim destruction. To Bordeaux, warlike duke, to Bordeaux, York, else farewell Talbot, France, and England's honour. Oh, God, that Somerset, who in proud heart doth stop my cornets, were in Talbot's place. So should we save a valiant gentleman by forfeiting a traitor and a coward. Mad, iron, wrathful, fury makes me weep, The thus we die while remiss traitor's sleep.

Oh, send some succour to the distressed lord. He dies, we lose, I break my warlike word, We mourn, France smiles, we lose, they daily get, All long of this vile traitor Somerset. Then God take mercy on brave Talbot's soul, And on his son, young John, who two hours since, I met in travel toward his warlike father. This seven years did not Talbot see his son,

and now they meet where both their lives are done. Alas, what joy shall noble Talbot have to bid his young son welcome to the grave. Away! vexation almost stops my breath, that sundered friends greet in the hour of death. Lucy, farewell, no more my fortune can, but curse the cause I cannot aid the man. Main, Blot, Pwaqje and tours are won away along all of Somerset and his delay.

Exit. With his soldiers. Thus, while the vulture of sedition feeds in the bosom of such great commanders, sleeping neglection doth betray to loss the conquest of our scarce cold conqueror, that ever-living man of memory, Henry V, whilst they each other cross, lives, honours, lands, and all hurry to loss. Exit Scene 4

Other Plains in Gascany Enter Somerset with his army A captain of Talbets with him It is too late I cannot send them now This expedition was by Ork and Talbot too rashly plotted All our general force might with a sally of the very town be buckled with The over-daring Talbot hath sullied all his gloss of former honour By this unheathedful, desperate wild adventure

York set him on to fight and die in shame. That Talbot dead great York might bear the name. Here is Sir William Lucy, who with me set from our or-matched forces forth for aid. Enter Sir William Lucy. Oh now, Sir William, whither were you sent? Whither, my lord, from bought and sold Lord Talbot, who ringed about with bold adversity, cries out for noble York and Somerset to beat a sailing death from his weak legions, and whilst the Honourable Captain there drops bloody sweat from his war-weary limbs,

and in advantage lingering 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 suckers that should lend him aid, while he, renowned noble gentleman, yields up his life unto a world of odds. Orleans the bastard Charles Burgundy, Alan Corden, Rainier, compass him about, out, and Talbot perisheth by your default. York said Amon, York should have sent him aid. And York, as fast upon your grace, exclaims, swearing that you withhold his levied host,

collected for this expedition. 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. 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 does, is betrayed to fortune by your strife. Come go, I will dispatch the horseman straight. Within six hours they will be at his aid.

Too late comes rescue, he is tain or slain, for fly he could not, if he would have fled, and fly would Talbot never, though he might. If he be dead, brave Talbot, then adieu. His fame lives in the world, his shame in you. Exeunt Scene 5 The English Camp near Bordeaux

Enter Talbot and John his son. O young John Talbot, I did send for thee to tutor thee in sturgems of war. That Talbot's name might be in thee revived, when suppless age and weak and stable limbs should bring thy father to his drooping chair. But, oh, malignant and ill-boarding 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, tell he not, be gone. Is my name Talbot? And am I your son? And shall I fly? Oh, 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. Fly to revenge my death if I be slain. He that flies so will never return again. If we both stay, we both are sure to die. 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 stay in the honour you have won but mine it will that no exploit have done you fled for vantage every one will swear but if i bow they'll say it was for fear there is no hope that ever i will stay if they will stay if they will stay if they will say if they will say the first hour I shrink and run away. Here on my knee I beg mortality, rather than life preserved with infamy. Shall all thy mother's hopes lie in one tomb? I, rather than I'll shame my mother's womb. Upon my blessing, I command thee, go. To fight I will, but not to fly the foe. Part of thy father may be saved in thee. No part of him, but will be shame in me. I'll never hath's renown, nor canst not lose it. Yes, your renowned name.

Shall flight abuse it? My father's charge shall clear thee from that stain. You cannot witness for me, being slain. If death be so apparent, then both fly. And leave my followers here to fight and die? My age was never tainted with such shame. And shall my youth be guilty of such blame? No more can I be served from your side,

then can yourself yourself in twain divine stay go do what you will the like do i for live i will not if my father die 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 Exxon. Scene 6. A Field of Battle. Allarum. Excursions. Wherein John Talbot is hemmed about, and Talbot rescues him. St. George and victory. Fight, soldiers, fight. The regent hathwith Talbot broke his word and left us to the rage of France his sword. Where is John Talbot? Pause and take thy breath. I gave thee life, and rest of you. to thee from death. O, twice, my father, twice am I thy son. The life thou gavest me first was lost and done.

Till with thy warlike sword, despite of late, to my determined time thou gavest new date. When from the dauphin's crest thy sword struck fire, it warmed thy father's heart with proud desire, a bold-faced victory. led an age, quickened with youthful spleen and warlike rage, beat down Hallizant, O'Leon, Burgundy, and from the pride of Galea rescued thee. The ireful bastard Orleon 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, 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? Will 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. Oh, too much folly is it?

Well, I wot, to hazard all our lives in one small boat. If I today die not with Frenchman's rage, to-morrow I shall die with Michael Age. By me they nothing gain, And if I stay, It is but the shortening 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, O these are saved if thou wilt fly away. The sword of Orleans hath not night niece, Mart. These words of yours draw life-blood from my heart,

On that advantage, brought 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, fail 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

and if I fly I am not Talbot's son Then talk no more of flight It is no boot If Santa Talbot Die at Talbot's foot Then follow thou thy desperate sire of Crete Thou Icarus

Thy life to me is sweet If thou would fight Fight by thy father's side And commendable proved Let's die in pride Exxon Scene 7 Another part of the field

Alarum Excursions Enter Talbot led by a servant Where is my other life Mine own is gone Oh, where's young Talbot? Where is valiant John?

Triumphant death Smears with captivity Young Talbot's valour makes me smile At thee when he perceived his shrieking on my knee his bloody sword he brandished over me and like a hungry lion did commence rough-dage of rage and stern impatience but when my angry garden stood alone tending my ruin and assailed of none dizzy-eyed fury and great rage of heart suddenly made him from my side to start into the clustering 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.

Oh, my dear Lord, lo, where your son is born. Enter soldiers with the body of John Talbot. Thou antit death, which laughs us here to scorn, anon, from thy insulting tyranny coupled in bonds of perpetuity, Two toilments, Wain'd through the lie that sky, In thy despite shall escape mortality. O thou, whose wounds become hard-favoured death,

Speak thy father, ere thou yield thy breath. Brave death by speaking, whether he will or know, Imagine him a Frenchman and thy foe. Poor boy! He smiles, he thinks, As who should say, had death been, French, then death had died today. Come, come and lay him in his father'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

Tolbert's grave. Dyes. Enter Charles, Alan Cohn, Burgundy, Bastard of Orleans, Joan, cell and forces. Had York and Somerset brought a rescue in, we should have found a bloody day of this. How the young whelp of Talbot's raging wood did flesh his puny sword in Frenchman's blood! Once I encountered him, and as I said, though maiden youth, be vanquished by a maid. But, with a proud, majestical high scorn, he answered thus, young Tarbot was not born to be the of a giggled wench. So, rushing in the bowels of the French, he left me proudly as unworthy fight. Doubtless he would have made a noble knight. See where he lies, in erst in the arms of the most bloody nurser of his harms. Hugh them to pieces hack their bones asunder, whose life was

England's glory, Galia's wonder. Oh, no forbear! For that which we have fled during the life, Let us not wrong it dead. Enter Sir William Lucy, attended. Herald of the French preceding. Herald, conduct me to the Dauphine's tent to know who hath obtained the glory of the day. On what submissive message art thou sent? Submission, Dauphine, tis a mere French word,

we English warriors, what not what it means, I come to know what prisoners thou hastain and to survey the bodies of the dead. For prisoners askest thou, Hell our prison is, but tell me whom thou seekest. But where's the great Alcades of the field? Valiant Lord Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, created for his rare success in arms, Great Earl of Washford, Waterford and Valence, Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchand Field,

Lord Strange of Blackmere, Lord Verdon of Alton, Lord Cromwell of Wingfield, Lord Vernival of Sheffield, the thrice victorious Lord of Falconbridge, knight of the noble order of St. George, worthy St. Michael and the Golden Fleece, great marshal to Henry the 6th, of all his wars within the realm of France. Here is a silly stately style indeed. The Turk, that two and fifty kingdoms have,

writes not so tedious a style as this. Him that though magnified with all these titles, stinking and fly-blown, lies here at our feet. Is Talbot slain, the Frenchman's only scourge, your kingdom's terror and black nemesis? Oh, were mine eyeballs into bullets turned, that I in rage might shoot them at your faces? Oh, that I could but call these dead to life! It were enough to fright the realm of France, were but his picture left amongst you here,

it would amaze the proudest of you all. Give me their bodies that I may bear them hence, and give them burial as besiems there were. I think this upstart is old Talbot's ghost. He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit. For God's sake, let him have him. To keep them here, they would but stink And purify the air Go, take their bodies hence

I'll bear them hence But from their ashes shall be reared A phoenix that shall make all France are feared So we be arid of them Do with them what thou wilt And now to Paris In this conquering vein All will be ours

Now bloody Talbot slain Exaunt End of Act 4 Act 5 of Henry 6th Part 1 by William Shakespeare This is a Libravox recording All Libravox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org Act 5, Scene 1

London The Palace Senate Enter King Henry the 6th, Gloucester and Exeter Have you perused the letters from the Pope the Emperor and the Earl of Armagnac. I have, my Lord, and their intent is this. They humbly sue unto your excellence

to have a godly peace concluded of between the realms of England and of France. How does your grace affect their motion? Well, my good Lord, and as the only means to stop effusion of our Christian bread and establish quietness on every side. I, Mary, Uncle,

for I always thought it was both impious and unnatural, that such a manity and bloody strife should reign among professors of one faith. Beside, my lord, the sooner to effect and sure abine this knot of amity, the earl of Amaniac, near knit to Charles, a man of great authority in France, proffers his only daughter to your grace in marriage, with a large and sumptuous dowry. Marriage, uncle! Alas, my years are young! And fitter is my study and my books than want and dalliance with a perimor. yet call the ambassador, and as you please so let them have their answers every one,

I shall be well content with any choice tends to God's glory and my country's wheel. Enter Cardinal of Winchester, in Cardinals habit, a legate and two ambassadors. What? Is my Lord of Winchester installed and called unto a cardinal's degree? Then I perceive that will be verified, Henry V did sometime promise. If once he come to be a cardinal, he'll make his cap co-equal with the crown. My Lord's ambassadors, your several suits have been considered and debated on, and therefore are we certainly resolved to draw conditions of a friendly peace, which by my lord of Winchester we mean shall be transported presently to France.

And for the proffer of my lord, your master, I have informed His Highness so at large as liking of the lady's virtuous gifts, her beauty, and the value of her dower. He doth intend she shall be England's queen. In argument and proof of which contract, bear her this jewel, pledge of my affection. And so, my lord protector, see them guarded and safely brought to Dover, where in ship, commit them to the fortune of the sea. Exaunt all but Cardinal of Winchester and Leggett. Stay, my lord Leggett. You shall first receive the source. some of money which I promised should be delivered to his holiness, for clothing me in these grave ornaments.

I will attend upon your lordship's leisure. Aside. Now, Winchester will not submit, I trow, or be inferior to the proudest peer. Humphrey of Gloucester, thou shalt well perceive that neither in birth or for authority the bishop will be overborne by thee. I'll either make thee stoop and bend thy knee, or sack this country with a mutiny. Exxon. Scene 2. France. Plains in Anjou.

Enter Charles, Burgundy, Alainzion, Bastard of Orleans, Rainier, Joan La Pusel, and forces. This news, my lord, may cheer our drooping spirits. Tis said the stout Parisians do revolt and turn again unto the warlike French. Then march to Paris, Royal Charles of France, and keep not back your powers and dalliance. Valiants. Peace be amongst them if they turn to us. Else ruin combat with their palaces. Enter Scout.

Success unto our valiant general and happiness to his accomplices. What tidings send our scout? I pray thee speak. The English army that divided was into two parties is now conjoined in one and means to give you battle presently. Somewhat too sudden, sir, as the warning is, but we will presently provide for them. I trust the ghost of Talbot is not there. Now he is gone, my lord, you need not fear.

Of all base passions, fear is most accursed. Commend the conquest, Charles, it shall be thine. Let Henry fret and all the world repine. Then on, my lords, and France be fortunate. Exempt Scene 3. Before Angiers Alarum

Excursions Enter Joan La Pusel The region conquers And the Frenchmen fly Now help your charming spells and periapt And ye choy spirits that admonish me And give me signs of future accidents Thunder

You speedy helpers that are substitutes Under the lordly monarch of the north Appear and aid me in this enterprise Enter Fiends These speedy and quick appearance Argus proof of your accustomed diligence to me. Now, your familiar spirits

that are curled out of the powerful regions under earth, help me this once, that friends may get the field. They walk and speak not. Oh, hold me not with silence over long. Where I was wont to feed you with my blood, I lop a member of and give it you

in earnest a further benefit, so you do condescend to help me now. They hang their heads. No hope to have redress? My body shall pay recompense if you will grant my suit. They shake their heads. Cannot my body nor blood sacrifice and treat you to your wanted furtherance? Then take my soul, my body, soul and all, before that England give the French the foil.

They depart. See, they forsake me. Now the time is come that France must veil her lofty-plumed crest, and let her head fall into England slap. My ancient incantations are too weak and hell too strong for me to buckle with. Now, friends, thy glory droopeth to the dust. Excursions

Re-enter Joan La Pusel, fighting hand-to-hand with York. Joan La Pousel is taken, the French fly. Damsel of friends, I think I have you fast. Unchain your spirits now with spelling charms And try if they can gain your liberty A goodly prize, fit for the devil's grace See how the ugly wench doth bend her brows As if with Circe she would change my shape

Change to a worse shape though canst not be Oh Charles the dolphin is a proper man No shape but his can please your dainty eye A plaguing mischief light on Charles and thee and may you both be suddenly surprised by bloody hands in sleeping on your beds. Fell banning hag, enchantress, hold thy tongue. I pry thee, give me leave to curse a while. Curse, misgrant, when thou comest to the stake.

Exeunt, alarum, enter Suffol with Margaret in his hand. Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner. Gases on her. O fairest beauty, do not. fear nor fly for i will touch thee but with reverent hands i kiss these fingers for eternal peace and lay them gently on thy tender side who art thou say that i may honour thee margaret my name and daughter to a king the king of naples whoso'er thou art an earl i am and suffolk am i called be not offended nature's miracle thou art allotted to be tame by me so doth the swan, her downy signet save, keeping them prisoner underneath her wings. Yet if this servile usage once offend, go and be free again as Suffolk's friend.

She is going. Oh, stay. I have no power to let her pass. My hand would free her, but my heart says no, as plays the sun upon the glassy streams twinkling another counterfeited beam. So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes. Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak. I'll call for pen and ink and write my mind. Faye, de la Pole, disable not thyself, hath not a tongue? Is she not here? Would thou be daunted by a woman's sight?

Aye, beauty's princely majesty as such confounds the tongue and makes the senses rough. Say, Earl of Suffolk, if thy name be so, what ransom must I pay before I pass, for I perceive I am thy prisoner. How canst thou tell she will deny thy suit, before thou make a trial of her love? Why speaks thou not? What ransom must I pay? She's beautiful, and therefore to be wooed. She is a woman, therefore to be one. Wilt thou accept of ransom, yea or no? Fond man remember that thou hast a wife, then how can Margaret be thy paramour?

I were best to leave him, for he will not hear. There all is marred, there lies a cooling card. He talks at random, sure the man is mad. And yet a dispensation may be had. And yet I would that you would answer me. I'll win this lady Margaret, for whom? Why, for my king, tush, that's a wooden thing. He talks of wood. It is some carpenter.

Yet so my fancy may be satisfied in peace, establish it between these realms, but there remains a scruple in that too, for though her father be the king of Naples, Duke of Anjou and Maine, yet he is poor, and our nobility will scorn the match. Hear ye, captain, are you not at leisure? It shall be so disdain day near so much. Henry is youthful and will quickly yield. Madam, I have a secret to reveal. What, though I be enthralled? He seems a knight and will not any way to solve. He seems a knight, and will not any way to honor me. Lady, vouchsait to listen what I say. Perhaps I shall be rescued by the French, and then I need not crave his courtesy. Sweet, madam, give me a hearing in a cause. Tush, women have been

captivate ere now. Lady, wherefore talk you so? I cry you mercy, tis but quid for quo. Say, gentle princess, would you not suppose your bondage happy to be made a queen? To be a queen in Bondage is more vile than as a slave in base servility, for princes should be free. And so shall you, if happy England's royal king, be free. Why, what concerns his freedom unto me? I'll undertake to make thee Henry's queen and put a golden scepter in thy hand, and set a precious crown upon thy head, if thou wilt condescend to be my— What?

His love. I am unworthy to be Henry's wife. No, gentle, madam, I am worthy and, to woo so fair a dame to be his wife, and have no portion in the choice myself. How say you, madam, are ye so content? And if my father please, I am content? Then call our captains and our colours forth, and madam, at your father's castle walls, will crave a parley to confer with him.

A parley sounded, enter Rainier on the walls. See, Rainier, see thy daughter, prisoner. To whom? To me. Suffolk, what remedy? I'm a soldier, and unapt to weep, or to exclaim on fortune's fickleness. Yes, there is remedy enough, my lord. Consent, and for thy honour give consent.

Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king, whom I with pain have wooed and won thereto, and this her easy-held imprisonment hath gained thy daughter princely liberty. Speak Suffolk as he thinks? Fair Margaret knows that Suffolk doth not flatter, face or fain. Upon thy princely warrant, I descend to give the answer of thy just demand. Exit from the walls. And here I would expect thy coming. Trumpet Sound, enter Rainier, below.

Welcome, brave Earl, into our territories. Commanding an shoe, what your honor pleases. Thanks, Rainier, happy for so sweet a child, fit to be made companion with the king. What answer makes your grace unto my suit? since thou dost deign to woo her little worth to be the princely bride of such a lord upon condition i may quietly enjoy mine own the country main and anjou free from oppression or the stroke of war my daughter shall be henry's if he please that is her ransom i deliver her and those two counties i will undertake your grace shall well and quietly enjoy and i again in Henry's royal name, as deputy unto that gracious king, give thee her hand for sign of plighted faith. Rania, France, I give thee kingly thanks, because this is in traffic of a king. Aside. And yet

me thinks I could be well content to be mine own attorney in this case. I'll over then to England with this news and make this marriage to be solemnized. So farewell, Rania, set this diamond safe in golden palaces that it becomes. I do embrace thee, as I would embrace, the Christian Prince, King Henry, were he here? Farewell, my lord. Good wishes, praise, and prayers shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret. Going.

Farewell, sweet madam. But hark you, Margaret, no princely commendations to my king. Such commendations as becomes a maid, a virgin and his servant, say to him, words sweetly placed and modestly directed but madam i must trouble you again no loving token to his majesty yes my good lord a pure unspotted heart never yet taint with love i send the king and this withal kisses her that for thyself i will not so presume to send such peevish tokens to a king exont rainier and margaret O, wert thou for myself? But Suffolk stay, thou mayst not wander in that labyrinth. There, minotars and ugly treasons lurk, solicit Henry with her wondrous praise, bethink thee on her virtues that surmount and natural graces that extinguish art, repeat their semblance often on the seas that when thou comst to kneel at Henry's feet. Thou mayst bereave him of his wits with wonder. Camp of the York in Anjou. Enter York, Warwick, and others.

Bring forth that sorceress condemned to burn. Enter Joan La Pusel, guarded, and a shepherd. Ah, Joan, this killed thy father's heart outright. Have I sought every country far and nearer? And now it is my chance to find the house. Must I behold thy timeless cruel death? ah joan sweet daughter joan i'll die with thee decrepit me sir base ignoble wretch i am descended of a gentler blood though art no father nor no friend of mine out out my lords and please you tis not so i did bigot her all the parish nose her mother lived yet can testify she was the first fruit of my bachelor's

Graceless, wilt doubt deny thy parentage? This argues what her kind of life hath been, wicked and vile, and so her death concludes. Fai, John, the zoo will be the obstacle. God knows, an article of my flesh, and, for thy sake, I have shed many a tear. Den I mean note, I praise thee, gentle Joan. Peasant, I won't. You have step on this man of purpose to obscure my noble birth. It is true.

I gave a noble to the priests and mourned that I was wedded to her mother. Nell down and take my blessing with my girl. Well, you're not stoop. Now curse be the time of that nativity. I wald the milk thy mother gave thee when the sixth her breast had been, little rats bean for the sake or else when to deist keep my limbs filled i wish some ravenous wolf had hidden thee does you diny thy feather cursed a drab oh burn hair burn air anging is too good Exit.

Take her away, for she hath lived too long to fill the world with vicious qualities. First, let me tell you whom you have condemned. Not me begotten of her shepherd Swain, but issued from the progeny of kings, virtues and holy, chosen from above by inspiration of celestial grace, to work exceeding miracles on earth. I never had to do with wicked spirits, but you that are polluted, with your lusts, stained with the guiltless blood of innocence, corrupt and tainted with a thousand vices, because you want the grace that others have. You judge it straight a thing impossible to compass wonders but by help of devils. No, misconceived. Joan of Arc hath been a virgin from her tender infancy, chaste and immaculate in very thought. whose maiden blood thus rigorously effused will cry for vengeance at the gates of heaven ay ay away with her to execution and hark ye sirs because she is a maid spare for no faggots let there be a now place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake that so her torture may be shortened will nothing turn your unrelenting hearts then joan discover thine infirmity

that warranteth by law to be thy privilege. I am with child, you bloody homicides. Murder not then the fruit within my womb, although you hail me to a violent death. Now heaven forfend, the holy maid, with child. The greatest miracle that ere you wrought, is all your strict preciseness come to this? She and the dauphin have been juggling,

I did imagine what would be her refuge. Well, go too. We'll have no bastards live, especially since Charles must father it. You are deceived. My child is none of his. It was Alononon that enjoyed my love. Alonon! That notorious Machiavel! It dies, and if it had a thousand lives! Oh, give me leave, I have deluded you. It was neither Charles, nor yet the Duke I named, But Rénie, king of Naples, that prevailed. A married man. That's most intolerable. Why, here's a girl.

I think she knows not well. There were so many, whom she may accuse. It's signs she hath been liberal and free. And yet, forsooth, she is a virgin, pure. Strumpet, thy words condemn thy brat and thee. Use no entreaty, for it is in vain. Then lead me hence. with whom I leave my curse? May never glorious sun reflects his beams upon the country where you make a boat,

but darkness and the gloomy shade of death and varan you, till mischief and despair drive you to break your necks, or hang yourselves. Exit, guarded. Break thou in pieces and consume to ashes thou foul a cursed minister of hell. Enter Cardinal of Winchester, attended. Lord Regent, I do greet your excellence. with letters of commission from the king. For no, my lords, the states of Christendom, moved with remorse of these outrageous broils,

have earnestly implored a general peace betwixt our nation and the aspiring French. And here at hand the dauphin and his train approacheth, to confer about some matter. Is all our travail turned to this effect? After the slaughter of so many peers, so many captains, gentlemen, and soldiers that in this quarrel have been overthrown, and sold their bodies for their country's benefit, shall we at last conclude effeminate peace? Have we not lost, most part of all the towns, by treason, falsehood, and by treachery, our great progenitors had conquered? Oh, Warwick, warwick, I foresee with grief the utter loss of all the realm of France. Be patient, York. If we conclude a peace, it shall be with such strict and severe covenants as little shall the Frenchmen gain thereby.

Enter Charles, Alonanian, Bastard of Orleans, Rainier, and others. Since, lords of England, it is thus agreed that peaceful truth shall be proclaimed in France, we come to be informed by yourselves what the conditions of that league must be. Speak Winchester, for boiling color, chokes the hollow passage of my poisoned voice by sight of these are baleful enemies. Charles and the rest it is enacted thus, that in regard King Henry gives consent of mere compassion and of lenity to ease your country of distressful war, and suffer you to breathe in fruitful peace, you shall become true legman to his crown. And shawls, upon condition thou wilt swear to pay him tribute, submit thyself, thou shalt be placed as viceroy under him, and still enjoy thy regal dignity. Must he be then as shadow of himself?

Adorn his temples with a coronet, and yet in substance and authority, retained but privilege of a private man? This proffer is absurd and reasonless. Tis known already that I am possessed with more than half the Dalian territory, and their in reverence for their lawful king. Shall I, for lucre of the rest unvanquished, detract so much from that prerogative as to be called but the viceroy of La Hull?

No, Lord Ambassador, I'd rather keep that which I have than, coveting for more, be cast from possibility of all. Insulting Charles, hast thou, by secret means, used intercession to obtain a, a league, and, now the matter grows to compromise, stanced thou aloof upon comparison,

either accept the title thou usurpsed, of benefit proceeding from our king, and not of any challenge of desert, or we will plague thee with incessant wars. My lord, you do not well in obstinacy to cavil in the course of this contract. If once it be neglected ten to one, we shall not find like a good. opportunity. To say the truth it is your policy, to save your subjects from such massacre and ruthless slaughters as our daily seen by our proceeding in hostility, and therefore take this compact of a truce, although you break it when your pleasure serves. How sayest thou, Charles, shall our condition stand? It shall, only reserved you claim no interest in any of our towns of garrison.

Then swear allegiance to his majesty, as the thou art knight, never to disobey, nor be rebellious to the crown of England, thou, nor thy nobles, to the crown of England. So, now dismiss your army when ye please, hang up your ensign, let your drums be still, for here we entertain a solemn peace. Exaunt Scene 5, London, the palace. Enter Sulphic, in conference with King Henry the 6th, Gloucester, and Exist. Your wondrous rare description, noble Earl, of Buteus Margaret hath astonished me. Her virtues

graced with external gifts do breed loves settled passions in my heart. And like as rigor of tempestuous gusts provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide, so am I driven by breath of her renown, either to suffer shipwreck, or arrive where I may have fruition of her love. Tush, my good lord, this superficial tale is but the prefits of her worthy praise. The chief perfections of that lovely dame had I sufficient skill to utter them would make a volume of enticing lines, able to ravage any dull conceit. And which is more, she is not so divine, so full replete with choices of all delights, but with as humble lowliness of mind she is content to be at your command.

command I mean a virtuous chase intense To love and honour Henry as her lord And otherwise will Henry ne'er presume Therefore, my lord protector, Give consent that Margaret may be England's royal queen So shall I give consent to flatter sin? You know, my lord, your highness is betrothed And to another lady of esteem.

How shall we then dispense with that contract And not to fish your honour with reproach? As doth a ruler with unlawful oaths, one that at a triumph of having vowed to try his strength forsake if yet the list by reasons of his adversary's odds. A poor Earl's daughter is unequal odds, and therefore may be broke without offence. Why? What, I pray is Margaret more than that? Her father is no better than an Earl, although in glorious titles he excel. Yes, Lord. Her father is a king, the king of Naples and Jerusalem, and of such great authority in France as his alliance will confirm our peace and keep the Frenchmen in allegiance. And so the ill of Armagnac may do, because he is near king's men into Charles. Beside, his wealth doth warrant a liberal dower, where Rainia sooner will receive than give.

A dower, my lords, disgrace not so, your king. that he should be so abject base and poor to choose for wealth and not for perfect love henry is able to enrich his queen and not seek a queen to make him rich so worthless peasants bargain for their wives as market meant for oxen sheep or horse marriage is a matter of more worth than to be dealt with by attorney'ship not whom we will but whom his grace affects must be companion of his nuptial bed therefore lord since He affects her most, it most of all these reasons bindeth us. In our opinion she should be preferred. For what is wedlock forces but a hell, an age of discourse and continual strife, whereas the contrary brings bliss, and is a pattern of celestial peace? Whom should be matched with Henry being a king, but Margaret, that is daughter to a king.

Her peerless feature, joined it with her birth, approves her fit for none but for a king. Her valiant courage and undaunted spirit more than in women commonly as seen will answer our hope in issue of a king. For Henry, son unto a conqueror is likely to beget more conquerors, if with a lady of so high resolve as his fair Margaret he be linked in love. Then yield my lords, and here conclude with me that Margaret shall be queen and none but she. Whether it be through force of your report, my noble Lord of Suffolk, or for that my tender youth was never yet attained, with any passion of inflaming love I cannot tell. But this I am assured. I feel such sharp dissension in my breast, such fierce allelarums both of hope and fear as I am sick with working of my thoughts.

Take, therefore, shipping, post, my lord to France, agree to any covenants, and procure that Lady Margaret do vouchsafed to come, to cross the seas to England, and be crowned King Henry's faithful and anointed queen. For your expenses and sufficient charge, among the people gather up a tenth. Be gone, I say, for till you do return I rest perplexed with a thousand cares. And you, good uncle, banish all offence. If you do censure me by what you were, not what you are, I know it will excuse this sudden execution of my will. And so, conduct meware from company, I may revolve and ruminate my grief. Exit.

I, grief, I fear me. Both, at first, and last. Exaunt, Gloucester, and Exeter. Thus Suffolk hath prevailed, and thus he goes, as did the youthful parish once to Greece, with hope to find the like event in love. but prosper better than the Trojan did. Margaret shall now be queen and rule the king, but I will rule both her, the king, and realm.

Exit. End of Act 5. End of Henry VI, Part 1, by William Shakespeare.