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 a mutiny betwixt yourselves:
Let me persuade you take a better course. EXETER It grieves his highness: good my lords, be friends. KING HENRY VI 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 wilful disobedience, and rebel!
Beside, 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 Destroy'd themselves, and lost the realm of France!
O, think upon the conquest of my father, My tender years, and let us not forego That for a trifle that was bought with blood Let me be umpire in this doubtful strife.
I see no reason, if I wear this rose, Putting on a red rose That any one should therefore be suspicious I more incline to Somerset than York:
Both are my kinsmen, and I love them both:
As well they may upbraid me with my crown, Because, forsooth, the king of Scots is crown'd.
But your discretions 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 choler 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, Alencon and that traitorous rout.
Flourish. Exeunt all but YORK, WARWICK, EXETER and VERNON WARWICK My Lord of York, I promise you, the king Prettily, methought, did play the orator. YORK And so he did; but yet I like it not, In that he wears the badge of Somerset. WARWICK Tush, that was but his fancy, blame him not;I dare presume, sweet prince, he thought no harm. YORK An if I wist he did,--but let it rest;Other affairs must now be managed.
Exeunt all but EXETER EXETER Well didst thou, Richard, to suppress thy voice;For, had the passions of thy heart burst out, I fear we should have seen decipher'd there More rancorous spite, more furious raging broils, Than yet can be imagined or supposed.
But howsoe'er, no ****** 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 sceptres are in children's hands;But more when envy breeds unkind division;There comes the rain, there begins confusion.
Exit SCENE II. Before Bourdeaux. Enter TALBOT, with trump and drum TALBOT Go to the gates of Bourdeaux, trumpeter:
Summon their 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 this proffer'd 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-braving towers, If you forsake the offer of their love. General Thou ominous and fearful owl of death, Our nation's terror and their bloody scourge!
The period of thy tyranny approacheth.
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, the Dauphin, well appointed, Stands with the snares of war to tangle thee:
On either hand thee there are squadrons pitch'd, 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 ta'en the sacrament To rive their dangerous artillery Upon no Christian soul but English Talbot.
Lo, there thou stand'st, a breathing valiant man, Of an invincible unconquer'd spirit!
This is the latest glory of thy praise That I, thy enemy, due 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 wither'd, 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, & c TALBOT He fables not; I hear the enemy:
Out, some light horsemen, and peruse their wings.
O, negligent and heedless discipline!
How are we park'd and bounded in a pale, A little herd of England's timorous deer, Mazed with a yelping kennel of French curs!
If we be English deer, be then in blood;
Not rascal-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 deer of us, my friends.
God and Saint George, Talbot and England's right, Prosper our colours in this dangerous fight!