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Lo,  whilst  I  waited  on  my  tender  lambs, 

.  .  .  God  s  mother  deigned  to  appearto  me," 


King  Henry  >/L      P.  1 .     Act  1,  Scene  2. 


Page  18. 


THE 


COMPLETE  WORKS 


WILLIAM    SHAKESPEARE, 


A   UFE   OF  THE   POET,    EXPLANATORY    FOOT-NOTES,    CRITICAL 
NOTES,   AND   A   GLOSSARIAL    INDEX. 


garuard    gcUtijou. 

BY   THE 

Rev.   henry    N.   HUDSON,    LL.D. 


in  twenty  volumes. 
Vol.    VHI. 


BOSTON,   U.SIA.: 

PUBLISHED    BY    GINN    &   COMPANY. 

1899. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1880,  by 

Henry  N.  Hudson, 
in  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


KING    HENRY   VI.      PART   FIRST. 


NEVER  printed  that  we  know  of  till  in  the  folio  of  1623  ;  but 
evidently  referred  to  by  Thomas  Nash  in  his  Pierce  Penni- 
less, 1592:  "  How  would  it  have  joyed  brave  Talbot,  the  terror 
of  the  French,  to  think  that,  after  he  had  lain  two  hundred  years 
in  his  tomb,  he  should  triumph  again  on  the  stage ;  and  have  his 
bones  new  embalmed  with  the  tears  of  ten  thousand  spectators  at 
least,  (at  several  times,)  who,  in  the  tragedian  that  represents 
his  person,  behold  him  fresh  bleeding."  The  special  matter  of 
this  allusion  is  in  the  fifth,  sixth,  and  seventh  scenes  of  the  fourth 
Act,  where  the  veteran  Earl  of  Shrewsbury  and  his  son  John 
fight  it  out  together  to  the  death. 

During  those  years,  one  of  the  London  theatres,  called  "  The 
Rose,"  was  under  the  management  of  Philip  Henslowe,  who  had 
numerous  and  varied  dealings  with  playwrights  and  actors,  and 
from  whose  records  much  of  our  information  about  the  dramatic 
doings  of  the  time  is  derived.  From  this  source  we  learn  that  a 
play  called  Henry  the  Sixth  was  acted  at  his  theatre  by  "  Lord 
Strange's  men"  on  the  3d  of  March,  1592,  and  was  repeated 
twelve  times  in  the  course  of  that  season.  Whether  this  play 
were  the  same  as  that  referred  to  by  Nash,  we  have  no  means  of 
ascertaining.  Shakespeare  is  not  known  to  have  had  any 
connection  with  the  theatrical  company  designated  as  "  Lord 
Strange's  men  "  ;  and  most  of  his  plays,  if  not  all,  were  undoubt- 
edly written  for  another  company.  But  it  is  well  known  that  at 
that  time  the  same  play  was  often  performed  by  s.everal  different 
companies  in  succession ;  for  in  such  matters  what  we  call  copy- 
right was  then  unsecured  by  law,  and  little  regarded  by  custom  : 
so  it  is  nowise  unlikely  that  Shakespeare's  King  Henry  the  Sixth, 


4  KING    HENRY    VI.       PART    FIRST. 

after  running  a  course  with  the  company  to  which  he  belonged, 
may  have  been  permitted  to  the  use  of  another  company,  or  may 
have  been  used  by  another  without  permission. 

At  all  events,  the  forecited  passage  from  Nash  would  fairly 
infer  the  play  in  question  to  have  been  on  the  stage  as  early  as 
1589  or  1590.  As,  in  1589,  Shakespeare  was  but  twenty-five 
years  old,  this  would  needs  conclude  the  play  in  hand  to  have 
been  among  the  first,  if  not  the  very  first,  of  his  essays  in  dra- 
matic composition.  And  it  stands  clear  in  evidence  that  the 
public  taste  or  preference  was  at  that  time  running  strongly  in 
favour  of  plays  founded  on  English  history :  in  these  the  intense 
national  feeling  of  the  people  and  the  old  English  passion  for 
dramatic  entertainments  could  meet  and  feast  together :  hence, 
no  doubt,  the  early  and  rapid  growth  in  England  of  the  Histori- 
cal Drama,  as  a  species  quite  distinct  from  the  old  forms  of  Com- 
edy and  Tragedy.  To  be  sure,  the  play  in  hand  is  vastly 
inferior  in  every  respect  to  what  the  Poet  afterwards  achieved  in 
the  same  kind  ;  yet  hardly,  if  at  all,  more  inferior  to  these  than 
it  is  superior  to  the  best  plays  on  English  history  that  had  been 
seen  on  the  London  stage  at  the  supposed  date  of  its  production. 
Shakespeare's  own  workmanship  apart,  the  earliest  historical  play 
that  can  bear  any  comparison  with  it  is  Marlowe's  Edward  the 
Second,  which  is  first  heard  of  by  an  entry  in  the  Stationers' 
Books  dated  July  6,  1593  ;  and  it  is  beyond  question,  as  we  shall 
see  hereafter,  that  both  the  Second  and  the  Third  Parts  of 
Shakespeare's  King  Henry  the  Sixth,  probably  in  their  present 
form,  but  certainly  in  some  form,  were  on  the  stage  some  two 
years  before  that  date. 

Nevertheless  the  authorship  of  the  play  in  hand  has  been  a 
theme  of  argument  and  controversy  from  the  days  of  Theobald 
to  the  present  time  :  some  boldly  maintaining  that  Shakespeare 
could  have  had  no  hand  in  it  whatever ;  others  supposing  that 
he  merely  revised  and  improved  it,  and  perhaps  contributed  a 
few  scenes ;  while  yet  others  hold  the  main  body  of  it  to  be  his, 
though  an  inferior  hand  may  have  had  some  share  in  the  com- 
position. The  reasoning  of  the  two  former  classes  proceeds,  I 
believe,  entirely  upon  internal  evidence,  and  seems  to  me  radi- 
cally at  fault  in  allowing  far  too  little  for  the  probable  difference 


KING    HENRY    VI.       PART    FIRST.  5 

between  the  boyhood  and  the  manhood  of  Shakespeare's  genius. 
The  argument,  branching  out,  as  it  does,  into  numerous  details, 
and  involving  many  nice  points  of  critical  inquir)-,  is  much  too 
long  for  rehearsal  in  this  place ;  and,  even  if  it  were  not  'so,  a 
statement  of  it  would  hardly  pay,  as  it  is  not  of  a  nature  to  in- 
terest any  but  those  who  make  a  special  study  in  matters  of  that 
kind.  I  have  endeavored  to  understand  the  question  thoroughly, 
and  am  not  aware  of  any  thing  that  should  hinder  m)-  viewing  it 
fairly ;  and  I  can  but  give  it  as  my  firm  and  settled  judgment 
that  the  main  body  of  the  play  is  certainly  Shakespeare's ;  nor 
do  I  perceive  any  clear  and  decisive  reason  for  calling  in  another 
hand  to  account  for  any  part  of  it. 

In  such  a  diversity  of  opinions  resting  on  internal  evidence, 
probably  our  best  way  is  to  fall  back  upon  such  clear  points  of 
external  evidence  as  the  case  may  afford.  Now  the  mere  fact  of 
the  play's  being  set  forth  as  Shakespeare's  by  the  Editors  of  the 
first  folio  certainly  infers  a  strong  presumption  as  to  the  author- 
ship. I  cannot  indeed  affirm  such  presumption  to  be  so  strong 
that  no  possible  force  of  internal  evidence  can  overthrow  it,  for 
I  think  this  is  fairly  done  in  the  case  of  Titus  Andronicus ;  but 
in  that  play  the  internal  evidence  is  of  quite  another  cast  and 
texture  from  what  we  have  in  the  play  under  consideration.  But, 
as  regards  A7>/^  Henry  tJu  Sixth,  we  have  another  piece  of  ex- 
ternal e\'idence,  which,  taken  along  with  the  former,  seems  to 
me  well  nigh  conclusive  of  the  question.  Shakespeare's  King 
Henry  the  Fifth  was  registered  at  the  Stationers'  on  the  4th  of 
August,  1600,  and  a  quarto  edition  of  it  was  published  in  the 
course  of  that  year;  the  title-page  having  these  words,  "as  it 
hath  been  sundr\'  times  played  by  the  Right-Honourable  the  Lord 
Chamberlain's  Servants."  The  play  closes  with  a  bnef  epilogue, 
in  which  we  have  the  following : 

Henry  the  Sixth,  in  in&nt  bonds  crown'd  King 
Of  France  and  England,  did  this  King  succeed  ; 
Whose  State  so  many  had  the  managing. 
That  they  lost  France,  and  made  his  England  bleed  : 
Which  oft  our  stage  hath  shown  ;  and,  for  their  sake, 
In  yoiir  fair  minds  let  this  acceptance  take. 

I  am  by  no  means  certain   that   this  epilogue  was  written  by 


6  KING   HENRY   VI.       PART   FIRST. 

Shakespeare,  but  that  is  nothing  to  the  present  purpose.  The 
claim  here  put  forth  fairly  covers  the  whole  of  King  Henry  the 
Sixth,  the  First  Part  of  which  is  mostly  occupied  with  the  losing 
of  France,  as  the  Second  and  Third  are  with  the  making  of 
England  bleed.  It  also  appears  that  the  three  earlier  plays  had 
been  often  performed  by  the  company  of  which  Shakespeare  is 
known  to  have  been  a  member ;  and  the  words  quoted  infer  all 
four  of  the  plays  to  have  been  written  by  the  same  author. 

Shakespeare's  usual  authority  in  matters  of  British  history  was 
Holinshed,  whose  Chronicles  were  first  published  in  1577,  when 
the  Poet  was  thirteen  years  old.  The  corresponding  work  of 
Hall  was  published  some  thirty  years  before.  The  Poet  was 
doubtless  familiar  with  both  of  these  writers ;  and  it  is  beyond 
question  that  for  the  historic  material  of  the  play  now  in  hand 
he  drew  more  or  less  from  the  work  of  Hall.  It  is  to  be  noted, 
however,  that  in  this  case  he  took  much  greater  freedom  than 
usual  with  the  actual  order  of  events,  marshalling  them  here  and 
there  upon  no  settled  principle,  or  upon  one  which  it  is  not 
easy  to  discover.  The  play  extends  over  the  whole  period  from 
the  death  of  Henry  the  Fifth,  in  August,  1422,  when  his  son  was 
nine  months  old,  till  the  marriage  of  the  latter  with  Margaret  of 
Anjou,  which  took  place  in  October,  1444.  In  some  cases  the 
scattered  events  of  several  years  are  drawn  together,  and  pre- 
sented in  one  view ;  as  in  the  first  scene,  where  we  have  the 
angry  rupture  of  Gloster  and  Beaufort  occurring  at  the  same 
time  with  the  funeral  of  Henry  the  Fifth,  and  reports  coming  in 
of  losses  in  France,  some  of  which  did  not  occur  till  after  the 
events  set  forth  in  several  of  the  later  scenes.  In  like  manner, 
in  the  early  part  of  the  play  the  King  is  made  much  older,  and 
in  the  latter  part  much  younger,  than  he  really  was ;  the  effect 
of  which  is,  as  it  was  probably  meant  to  be,  to  give  an  impres- 
sion of  greater  unity  than  were  compatible  with  a  more  literal 
adherence  to  facts.  So,  again,  the  death  of  the  Talbots  is 
drawn  back  many  years  before  the  time  of  its  actual  occurrence, 
in  order,  as  would  seem,  that  the  foreign  wars,  and  the  disasters 
attending  them,  may  be  dispatched  in  the  First  Part,  and  thus 
leave  the  Second  and  Third  free  for  a  more  undistracted  repre- 
sentation of  the  civil  wars. 


KING    HENRY    VI.      PART    FIRST. 


PERSONS   REPRESENTED. 


his  Uncles. 


King  Henry  the  Sixth. 

Duke  of  Gloster, 

Duke  of  Bedford, 

Thomas  Beaufort,  Duke  of  Exe- 
ter. 

Henry  Beaufort,  Bishop  and 
Cardinal. 

John  Beaufort,  Duke  of  Somerset. 

Richard  Plantagenet,  Duke  of 
York. 

MONTACUTE,  Earl  of  Salisbury. 

BeauCHAMP,  Earl  of  Warwick. 

De  la  Pole,  Earl  of  Suffolk. 

John  Talbot,  Earl  of  Shrewsbury. 

John  Talbot,  his  Son. 

Edmund  Mortimer,  Earl  of  March. 

Mortimer's  Keeper,  and  a  Lawyer. 

Sir  John  Fastolfe. 

Sir  William  Glansdale. 

Sir  William  Lucy. 


Sir  Thomas  Gargrave. 
WOODVILLE,     Lieutenant     of    the 

Tower.  Mayor  of  London. 
V^ERNON,  of  the  York  Faction. 
Basset,  of  the  Lancaster  Faction. 

Charles,  the  Dauphin. 

Reignier,  Duke  of  Anjou. 

Philip,  Duke  of  Burgundy. 

Duke  of  Alen9on. 

Bastard  of  Orleans. 

Governor  of  Paris. 

Master-Gunner,  and  his  Son. 

General  of  the  French  Forces. 

A  French  Sergeant. 

A  Porter. 

\n  old  Shepherd,  Father  to  Joan. 

Margaret,  Queen  to  Henry  VL 

The  Countess  of  Auvergne. 

La  Pucelle,  called  Joan  of  Arc. 


Lords,  Warders  of  the  Tower,  Heralds,  Officers,  Soldiers,  Messengers,  and 
several  Attendants  both  on  the  English  and  French.  Fiends  appearing 
to  La  Pucelle. 

Scene.  —  Partly  in  England,  and  partly  in  France. 


ACT   I. 
Scene  I.  —  Westminster  Abbey. 

Dead  march.     The  corpse  of  King  Henry  the  Fifth,  in  state, 
is  brought  in,   attended  on   by    the   Dukes   of  Bedford, 


8  T?TE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  I. 

Gloster,  and  Exeter,  the  Earl  of  Warwick,  the  Bishop 
of  Winchester,  Heralds,  ^c. 

Bed.   Hung  be  the  heavens  with  black,i  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  !  ^ 
Henry  the  Fifth,  too  famous  to  live  long  ! 
England  ne'er  lost  a  king  of  so  much  worth. 

Glo.   England  ne'er  had  a  king  until  his  time. 
Virtue  he  had,  deserving  to  command : 
His  brandish'd  sword  did  blind  men  with  his  beams ; 
His  arms  spread  wider  than  a  dragon's  wings ; 
His  sparkling  eyes,  replete  with  wrathful  fire. 
More  dazzled  and  drove  back  his  enemies 
Than  mid-day  Sun  fierce  bent  against  their  faces. 
What  should  I  say  ?  his  deeds  exceed  all  speech : 
He  ne'er  lift  up  his  hand,  but  conquered. 

Exe.^   We  mourn  in  black  :  why  mourn  we  not  in  blood  ? 


1  The  upper  part  of  the  stage  was  in  Shakespeare's  time  technically 
called  the  heavens,  and  was  used  to  be  hung  with  black  when  tragedies  were 
performed. 

2  The  epithet  crystal  was  often  applied  to  comets  by  the  old  writers.  So 
in  a  sonnet  by  Lord  Sterline,  1604 :  "  Whenas  those  crystal  comets  whiles 
appear." 

3  Consented  here  means  conspired  together  to  promote  the  death  of  Henry 
by  their  malignant  influence  on  human  events. 

■*  Thomas  Beaufort,  the  present  Duke  of  Exeter,  was  son  to  John  of 
Ghent  by  Catharine  Swynford  ;  born  out  of  wedlock,  but  legitimated  along 
with  three  other  children  in  the  time  of  Richard  II.  Of  course  therefore  he 
was  great-uncle  to  King  Henry  VI.  At  the  death  of  Henry  V.  he  was  ap- 
pointed governor  of  the  infant  King,  which  office  he  held  till  his  death  in 
1425.  The  Poet,  however,  prolongs  his  life  till  1444,  the  period  of  the  First 
Part.  Holinshed  calls  him  "  a  right  sage  and  discreet  counsellor."  The 
name  Beaufort  was  derived  from  the  place  of  his  birth,  which  was  Beaufort- 
castle  in  France. 


I 


SCEXE  I.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  9 

Henry  is  dead,  and  never  shall  revive  : 
Upon  a  wooden  coffin  we  attend ; 
And  death's  dishonourable  victory 
We  with  our  stately  presence  glorify, 
Like  captives  bound  to  a  triumphant  car. 
What !  shall  we  curse  the  planets  of  mishap 
That  plotted  thus  our  glory's  overthrow  ? 
Or  shall  we  think  the  subtle-witted  French 
Conjurers  and  sorcerers,  that,  afraid  of  him, 
By  magic  verses  have  contrived  his  end  ?  ^ 

Win.    He  was  a  king  bless'd  of  the  King  of  kings. 
Unto  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. 

G/o.    The  Church  !  where  is  it  ?     Had  not  churchmen  ^ 
pray'd, 
His  thread  of  life  had  not  so  soon  decay'd  : 
None  do  you  like  but  an  effeminate  prince. 
Whom,  like  a  schoolboy,  you  may  over-awe. 

IVinJ    Gloster,  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. 

G/o.    Name  not  religion,  for  thou  lovest  the  flesh  ; 


5  This  is  well  explained  by  a  passage  in  Scot's  Discoverie  of  Witchcraft, 
1584:  "The  Irishmen  will  not  sticke  to  affirme  that  they  can  rime  man  or 
beast  to  death."    See  vol.  v.  page  60,  note  25. 

6  Churchman  was  used  for  what  we  call  a  clergyman  or  priest. 

'  Henry  Beaufort,  known  in  history  as  "  the  great  Bishop  of  Winches- 
ter," was  brother  to  the  Duke  of  Exeter.  At  this  time  he  held  the  office  of 
chancellor,  and  was  associated  with  Exeter  in  the  governing  of  the  infant 
sovereign.  The  quarrel  between  him  and  his  nephew,  the  Duke  of  Gloster. 
did  not  break  out  till  1425,  though  it  had  been  brewing  in  secret  for  some 
time.     In  1427  he  was  advanced  by  Pope  Martin  to  the  office  of  cardinal. 


lO  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  act  I. 

And  ne'er  throughout  the  year  to  church  thou  go'st, 
Except  it  be  to  pray  against  thy  foes. 

Bed.    Cease,  cease  these   jars,  and   rest   your   minds   in 
peace  ! 
Let's  to  the  altar  :  —  heralds,  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  mothers'  moist  eyes  babes  shall  suck ; 
Our  isle  be  made  a  marish  ^  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  Berenice. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.    My  honourable  lords,  health  to  you  all ! 
Sad  tidings  bring  I  to  you  out  of  France, 
Of  loss,  of  slaughter,  and  discomfiture  : 
Guienne,  Champagne,  Rheims,  Rouen,  Orleans, 
Paris,  Guysors,  Poictiers,  are  all  quite  lost. 

Bed.    What  say'st  thou,  man  !  before  dead  Henry's  corse 
Speak  softly,  or  the  loss  of  those  great  towns 
Will  make  him  burst  his  lead,  and  rise  from  death. 

Glo.    Is  Paris  lost  ?  is  Rouen  yielded  up  ? 
If  Henry  were  recall'd  to  life  again. 
These  news  would  cause  him  once  more  yield  the  ghost. 

Exe.    How  were  they  lost  ?  what  treachery  was  used  ? 

8  Marish  is  only  another  form  of  marsh.  Kyd's  Spanish  Tragedy  has  a 
like  expression  :  "  Made  mountains  marsh  with  spring  tides  of  my  tears." 
—  "But  the  miry  places  thereof  and  the  war/j-^^j  thereof  shall  not  be  healed ; 
they  shall  be  given  to  salt,"  —  Ezekiel,  xlvii.  ji. 


SCENE  I.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  I  I 

Mess.   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  dispatch'd  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  man  thinks,  without  expense  at  aU, 
By  guileful  fair  words  peace  may  be  obtain'd. 
Awake,  awake,  English  nobihty  ! 
Let  not  sloth  dim  your  honours  new-begot : 
Cropp'd  are  the  flower-de-luces  in  your  arms  ; 
Of  England's  coat  one  half  is  cut  away. 

Exe.   Were  our  tears  wanting  to  this  funeral. 
These  tidings  would  call  forth  their  flowing  tides. 

Bed.    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  a  second  Messenger. 

2  Mess.    Lords,  view  these  letters,  fiill  of  bad  mischance 
France  is  revolted  from  the  English  quite, 
Except  some  petty  towns  of  no  imp6rt : 
The  Dauphin  Charles  is  crowned  king  in  Rheims ; 
The  Bastard  of  Orleans  with  him  is  join'd  ; 
Reignier,  Duke  of  Anjou,  doth  take  his  part ; 
The  Duke  of  Alengon  flieth  to  his  side. 

Exe.   The  Dauphin  crowned  king  !  all  fly  to  him  ! 
O,  whither  shall  we  fly  from  this  reproach  ? 

9  InUrmissive  for  MermUted :  miseries  that  have  only  a  brief  iatermls- 
sioti. 


12  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT 

Glo.   We  will  not  fly,  but  to  our  enemies'  throats  :  — 
Bedford,  if  thou  be  slack,  I'll  fight  it  out. 

Bed.    Gloster,  why  doubt'st  thou  of  my  forwardness  ? 
An  army  have  I  muster'd  in  my  thoughts, 
Wherewith  already  France  is  overrun. 

Enter  a  third  Messenger. 

J  Mess.    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. 
Win.   What !  wherein  Talbot  overcame  ?  is't  so  ? 

J  Mess.    O,  no  ;  wherein  Lord  Talbot  was  o'erthrown  : 
The  circumstance  I'll  tell  you  more  at  large. 
The  tenth  of  August  last,  this  dreadful  lord, 
Retiring  from  the  siege  of  Orleans, 
Having  scarce  full  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,  pluck'd  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  witli  his  sword  and  lance  : 
Hundreds  he  sent  to  Hell,  and  none  durst  stand  him ; 
Here,  there,  and  everywhere,  enraged  he  flew  : 
The  French  exclaim'd,  the  Devil  was  in  arms ; 
All  the  whole  army  stood  agazed  on  him  :  ^^ 
His  soldiers,  spying  his  undaunted  spirit, 

10  "  Stood  agazed  on  him"  is  evidently  the  same  as  stood  aghast  at  him. 


SCENE  I.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  1 3 

.4  Talbot!  a  Talbot !  cried  out  amain, 

And  rush'd  into  the  bowels  of  the  battle. 

Here  had  the  conquest  fully  been  seal'd  up, 

If  Sir  John  Fastolfe  had  not  play'd  the  coward  : 

He,  being  in  the  vaward,  —  placed  behind,^* 

With  purpose  to  relieve  and  follow  them,  — 

Cowardly  fled,  not  having  struck  one  stroke. 

Hence  grew  the  general  wreck  and  massacre ; 

Enclosed  were  they  with  their  enemies  : 

A  base  Walloon,  to  win  the  Dauphin's  grace, 

Thrust  Talbot  with  a  spear  into  the  back  ; 

Whom  all  France,  with  their  chief  assembled  strength. 

Durst  not  presume  to  look  once  in  the  face. 

Bed.    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  foemen  is  betray'd. 

J  Mess.    O,  no,  he  lives  \  but  is  took  prisoner. 
And  Lord  Scales  with  him,  and  Lord  Hungerford : 
Most  of  the  rest  slaughter'd  or  took  Ukewise. 

Bed.    His  ransom  there  is  none  but  I  shall  pay : 
I'll  hale  the  Dauphin  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  Saint  George's  feast  withal : 
Ten  thousand  soldiers  with  me  I  will  take. 
Whose  bloody  deeds  shall  make  all  Europe  quake, 

u  Va-ward  is  an  old  word  for  the  foremost  part  of  an  army,  the  van. 
The  passage  seems  to  involve  a  contradiction  ;  but  the  meaning  probably  is. 
that  Fastolfe  commorily  led  the  vaward,  but  was  on  this  occasion  placed, 
behind.  Mason  supposes  the  army  to  have  been  attacked  in  the  rear,  and 
remarks  that  in  such  cases  "  the  van  becomes  the  rear." 


14  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  act  i. 

J  Mess.    So  you  had  need  ;  for  Orleans  is  besieged; 
The  English  army  is  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. 

Exe.    Remember,  lords,  your  oaths  to  Henry  sworn, 
Either  to  quell  the  Dauphin  utterly, 
Or  bring  him  in  obedience  to  your  yoke. 

Bed.    I  do  remember't ;  ^^  and  here  take  my  leave, 
To  go  about  my  preparation.  [_Exit. 

Glo.    I'll  to  the  Tower,  with  all  the  haste  I  can. 
To  view  th'  artillery  and  munition  ; 
And  then  I  will  proclaim  young  Henry  king.  \_Exit. 

Exe.   To  Eltham  will  I,  where  the  young  King  is. 
Being  ordain'd  his  special  governor  ; 
And  for  his  safety  there  I'll  best  devise.  \_Exit. 

Win.    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-ofifice  : 
The  King  from  Eltham  I  intend  to  steal, 
And  sit  at  chiefest  stern  of  public  weal.    S^Exit.    Scene  closes. 


Scene  II.  —  Fiance.     Before  Orleans. 

Flourish.     Enter  Charles,  with  his  Forces;   ALENgON, 
Reignier,  and  others. 

Char.   Mars  his  true  moving,^  even  as  in  the  heavens, 
So  in  the  earth,  to  this  day  is  not  known : 

12  "  Remember  it"  refers  to  oaths,  or  rather  \.o  oath  as  implied  in  the 
plural  form.  The  old  grammar  admits  oaths  when  speaking  of  the  oath 
taken  by  several  persons. 

1  Mars  his  is  the  old  genitive.  Nash,  in  his  Preface  to  Gabriel  Harvey's 
Hunt  is  up,  1596,  well  illustrates  the  text :  "  You  are  as  ignorant  in  the  true 
movings  of  my  Muse  as  the  astronomers  are  in  the  true  movings  of  Mars, 


SCENE  11.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  1 5 

Late  did  he  shine  upon  the  English  side  ; 

Now  we  are  victors,  upon  us  he  smiles. 

What  towns  of  any  moment  but  we  have  ? 

At  pleasure  here  we  lie,  near  Orleans  ; 

The  whiles  the  famish'd  English,  like  pale  ghosts, 

Faintly  besiege  us  one  hour  in  a  month. 

Alen.   They  want  their  porridge  and  their  fat  bull-beeves  : 
Either  they  must  be  dieted  like  mules, 
And  have  their  provender  tied  to  their  mouths, 
Or  piteous  they  will  look,  like  drowned  mice. 

Reig.    Let's  raise  the  siege  :  why  lie  we  idly  here  ? 
Talbot  is  taken,  whom  we  wont  to  fear : 
Remaineth  none  but  mad-brain'd  Salisbury ; 
And  he  may  well  in  fretting  spend  his  gall ; 
Nor  men  nor  money  hath  he  to  make  war. 

Char.    Sound,  sound  alarum  !  we  will  rush  on  them. 
Now  for  the  honour  of  the  f6rlom  ^  French  ! 
Him  I  forgive  my  death  that  killeth  me 
When  he  sees  me  go  back  one  foot  or  flee.  \Exeunt. 

Alarums;   excursions;   afterwards  a  retreat.     Re-enter 
Charles,  Alen^on,  Reignier,  and  others. 

Char.  Who  ever  saw  the  like  ?  what  men  have  I  ! 
Dogs  !  cowards  !  dastards  !  I  would  ne'er  have  fled. 
But  that  they  left  me  'midst  my  enemies. 

Reig.   Salisbury  is  a  desperate  homicide ; 
He  fighteth  as  one  weary  of  his  life. 
The  other  lords,  like  lions  wanting  food, 

which  to  this  day  they  could  never  attain  unto."  The  orbit  of  Mars  is  in 
fact  so  eccentric,  and  consequently  his  motions  so  irregular,  that  the  latter 
were  an  inexplicable  puzzle  to  astronomers  till  the  publication  of  Kepler's 
work  on  the  subject  in  1609. 

2  Forlorn  here  seems  to  be  a  sort  of  inverted  prolepsis :  the  French  who 
were  lately  forlorn,  though  they  have  now  ceased  to  be  so. 


l6  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  I. 

Do  rush  upon  us  as  their  hungry  prey.^ 

Alen.    Froissart,  a  countryman  of  ours,  records, 
England  all  Olivers  and  Rolands  "*  bred 
During  the  time  Edward  the  Third  did  reign. 
More  truly  now  may  this  be  verified ; 
For  none  but  Samsons  and  Goliases 
It  sendeth  forth  to  skirmish.     One  to  ten  ! 
Lean  raw-boned  rascals  !  who  would  e'er  suppose 
They  had  such  courage  and  audacity  ? 

Char.   Let's  leave  this  town ;   for  they  are  hare-brain'd 
slaves. 
And  hunger  will  enforce  them  be  more  eager  : 
Of  old  I  know  them  ;  rather  with  their  teeth 
The  walls  they'll  tear  down  than  forsake  the  siege. 

Reig.    I  think,  by  some  odd  gimmers  ^  or  device, 
Their  arms  are  set  like  clocks,  still  to  strike  on ; 
Else  ne'er  could  they  hold  out  so  as  they  do. 
By  my  consent,  we'll  even  let  them  alone. 

Alen.    Be  it  so. 

Enter  the  Bastard  of  Orleans. 

Bast.    Where's  the  Prince  Dauphin?  I  have  news  for  him. 
Char.    Bastard  ^  of  Orleans,  thrice  welcome  to  us. 

**  "  Their  hungry  prey  "  is  the  prey  for  which  they  are  hungjry. 

*  These  were  two  of  the  most  famous  in  the  list  of  Charlemagne's  twelve 
peers ;  and  their  exploits  are  the  theme  of  the  old  romances.  From  the 
equally  doughty  and  unheard-of  exploits  of  these  champions,  arose  the 
saying  of  Giving  a  Roland  for  an  Oliver,  for  giving  a  person  as  good  as  he 
brings. 

5  Gimmers,  sometimes  spelt  gimmals  or  gimals,  means  a  gimcrack  or 
quaint  contrivance.  So  in  Bishop  Hall's  Epistles  :  "  The  famous  Kentish 
idol  moved  her  eyes  and  hands  by  those  secret  gimtners  which  now  every 
puppet  play  can  imitate." 

6  Bastard  was  not  in  former  times  a  title  of  reproach.  Hurd,  in  his  Let- 
ters on  Chivalry  and  Romance,  makes  it  one  of  the  circumstances  of  agree- 
ment between  Heroic  and  Gothic  manners,  "  that  bastardy  was  in  credit 
with  both." 


SCENE  II.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  1/ 

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

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

Re-enter  the  Bastard  of  Orleans,  with  La  Pucelx£. 

Reig.    Fair  maid,  is't  thou  wilt  do  these  wondrous  feats? 

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

Reig.    She  takes  upon  her  bravely  at  first  dash. 

I^c.    Dauphin,  I  am  by  birth  a  shepherd's  daughter, 
My  wit  untrain'd  in  any  kind  of  art. 

■^  Cheer  in  this  instance  means  heart  or  courage,  as  in  the  expression,  "  be 
of  good  cheer." 

8  Warburton  says,  "  there  were  no  nine  sibyls  of  Rome  :  it  is  a  mistake  for 
tiie  nine  Sibylline  Oracles  brought  to  one  of  the  Tarquins."  But  the  Poet 
followed  the  p>opular  books  of  his  day,  which  say  that  "  the  ten  sibyls  were 
women  that  had  the  spirit  of  prophecy,  and  they  prophesied  of  Christ." 


1 8  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  i. 

Heaven  and  our  gracious  Lady  hath  it  pleased 

To  shine  on  my  contemptible  estate  : 

Lo,  whilst  I  waited  on  my  tender  lambs, 

And  to  Sun's  parching  heat  display'd  my  cheeks, 

God's  Mother  deigned  to  appear  to  me, 

And,  in  a  vision  full  of  majesty, 

Will'd  me  to  leave  my  base  vocation. 

And  free  my  country  from  calamity  : 

Her  aid  she  promised,  and  assured  success  : 

In  c6mplete  glory  she  reveal'd  herself; 

And,  whereas  I  was  black  and  swart  before, 

With  those  clear  rays  which  she  infused  on  me 

That  beauty  am  I  bless'd  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  shall  find  that  I  exceed  my  sex. 

Resolve  on  this,^  thou  shalt  be  fortunate, 

If  thou  receive  me  for  thy  warlike  mate. 

Char.    Thou  hast  astonish'd  me  with  thy  high  terms  : 
Only  this  proof  I'll  of  thy  valour  make. 
In  single  combat  thou  shalt  buckle  '"  with  me ; 
And,  if  thou  vanquishest,  thy  words  are  true  ; 
Otherwise  I  renounce  all  confidence. 

Puc.    I  am  prepared  :  here  is  my  keen-edged  sword, 
Deck'd  with  five  flower-de-luces  on  each  side ; 
The  which  at  Touraine,  in  Saint  Catharine's  churchyard. 
Out  of  a  great  deal  of  old  iron  I  chose  forth. 

Char.   Then  come,  o'  God's  name ;  I  do  fear  no  woman. 

Puc.  And,  while  I  live,  I'll  ne'er  fly  from  a  man.  \They  fight. 

9  "Resolve  on  this  "  is  be  assured  of  this,  or  assure  yourself  of  this.  The 
Poet  has  resolve  several  times  in  a  like  sense.     See  vol  iv.  page  125,  note  31. 

1*  To  buckle  is  to  engage,  to  encounter,  to  join  in  close  fight.  So,  agaia 
in  V.  3,  of  this  play :  "  And  Hell  too  strong  for  me  to  buckle  with." 


SCENE  II.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  I9 

Char.    Stay,  stay  thy  hands  I  thou  art  an  Amazon, 
And  fightest  with  the  sword  of  Deborah. 

Puc.    Christ's  Mother  helps  me,  else  I  were  too  weak. 

Char.   Whoe'er  helps  thee,  'tis  thou  that  must  help  me  : 
Impatiently  I  bum  with  thy  desire  ; 
My  heart  and  hands  thou  hast  at  once  subdued. 
Excellent  Pucelle,  if  thy  name  be  so, 
Let  me  thy  servant,  and  not  sovereign,  be  : 
'Tis  the  French  Dauphin  sueth  to  thee  thus. 

Puc.    I  must  not  yield  to  any  rites  of  love. 
For  my  profession's  sacred  from  above  : 
When  I  have  chased  all  thy  foes  from  hence, 
Then  will  I  think  upon  a  recompense. 

Char.    Meantime  look  gracious  on  thy  prostrate  thrall. 

Reig.    My  lord,  methinks,  is  very  long  in  talk. 

Akn.    Doubtless  he  shrives  this  woman  to  her  smock ; 
Else  ne'er  could  he  so  long  protract  his  speech. 

Reig.   Shall  we  disturb  him,  since  he  keeps  no  mean? 

Alen.    He  may  mean  more  than  we  poor  men  do  know : 
These  women  are  shrewd  tempters  with  their  tongues. 

Reig.    My  lord,  where  are  you  ?  what  devise  you  on  ? 
Shall  we  give  over  Orleans,  or  no  ? 

Puc.   Why,  no,  I  say,  distrustful  recreants  ! 
Fight  till  the  last  gasp  ;  I  will  be  your  guard. 

Char.   What  she  says,  I'll  confirm  :  we'll  fight  it  out. 

Puc.    Assign'd  am  I  to  be  the  English  scourge. 
This  night  the  siege  assuredly  I'll  raise  : 
Expect  Saint  Martin's  Summer,^'  halcyon  days, 
Since  I  have  entered  into  these  wars. 
Glory  is  like  a  circle  in  the  water, 
Which  never  ceaseth  to  enlarge  itself, 

11  That  is,  expect  prosperity  after  misfortune,  like  fair  weather  at  Martle- 
mas,  after  Winter  has  begun.  The  French  have  a  proverbial  expression, 
Este  de  St.  Martin,  for  fine  weather  in  Winter. 


20  THE    FIRST   PART    OF  ACT  I. 

Till,  by  broad  spreading,  it  disperse  to  nought. 
With  Henry's  death  the  English  circle  ends ; 
Dispersed  are  the  glories  it  included. 
Now  am  I  like  that  proud-insulting  ship 
Which  Csesar  and  his  fortune  bare  at  once. 

Char.   Was  Mahomet  inspired  with  a  dove  ?  '^ 
Thou  with  an  eagle  art  inspired,  then. 
Helen,  the  mother  of  great  Constantine, 
Nor  yet  Saint  Philip's  daughters,'^  were  like  thee. 
Bright  star  of  Venus,  fall'n  down  on  the  Earth, 
How  may  I  reverent  worship  thee  enough  ? 

Alen.   Leave  off  delays,  and  let  us  raise  the  siege. 

Reig.   Woman,  do  what  thou  canst  to  save  our  honours ; 
Drive  them  from  Orleans,  and  be  immortalized. 

Char.    Presently  we'll  try  :  come,  let's  away  about  it : 
No  prophet  will  I  trust,  if  she  prove  false.  \_Exeunt. 

Scene  III.  —  London.     Before  the  Gates  of  the  Tower. 

Enter  the  Duke  of  Gloster,  with  his  Serving-men  in  blue 

coats. 

Glo.    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  ;  'tis  Gloucester  that  calls.     [Servants  knock. 

I  Ward.    {Within^    Who's  there  that   knocketh  so  im- 
periously ? 

12  Mahomet  had  a  dove  "which  he  used  to  feed  with  wheat  out  of  his 
ear  ;  which  dove,  when  it  was  hungry,  lighted  on  Mahomet's  shoulder,  and 
thrust  its  bill  in  to  find  its  breakfast,  Mahomet  persuading  the  rude  and 
simple  Arabians  that  it  was  the  Holy  Ghost."  — RALEIGH'S //w^cjrj' o//>i« 
World. 

13  Meaning  the  four  daughters  of  Philip  mentioned  in  Acts,  xxi.  9. 

1  Conveyance  was  used  for  furtive  knavery,  juggling  artifice,  sleight  of 
hand,  or  any  kind  of  secret  management. 


SCENE  in.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  21 

1  Serv.    It  is  the  noble  Duke  of  Gloucester. 

2  Ward.    \_Within?^    Whoe'er  he    be,  you  may  not  be 

let  in. 
I  Serv.   Villains,  answer  you  so  the  Lord  Protector? 

1  Ward.    [  Within^    The    Lord    protect    him !     so    we 

answer  him: 
We  do  no  otherwise  than  we  are  will'd. 

GIo.   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  warrantize  : 
Shall  I  be  flouted  thus  by  dunghill  grooms  ? 

[Gloster's  Serving-men  rush  at  the  Tower-gates. 
Woodville.    \_Within.'\    What  noise  is  this?   what  traitors 

have  we  here  ? 
Glo.    Lieutenant,  is  it  you  whose  voite  I  hear? 
Open  the  gates ;  here's  Gloster  that  would  enter. 

Woodville.    [  Within.^   Have  patience,  noble  duke  ;  I  may 
not  open ; 
The  Cardinal  of  Winchester  forbids  : 
From  him  I  have  express  commandment ' 
That  thou  nor  none  of  thine  shall  be  let  in. 

G/o.    Faint-hearted  Woodville,  prizest  him  'fore  me, 
Arrogant  Winchester,  that  haughty  prelate. 
Whom  Henry,  our  late  sovereign,  ne'er  could  brook? 
Thou  art  no  friend  to  God  or  to  the  King : 
Open  the  gates,  or  I'll  shut  thee  out  shortly. 

Serving-men.    Open  the  gates  unto  the  Lord  Protector : 
We'll  burst  them  open,  if  you  come  not  quickly. 

[Gloster's  Serving-men  rush  again  at  the  Tower-gates. 

2  Break  up  was  the  same  as  break  open.  So  in  Micah,  ii.  13 :  "  They  have 
iroken  up  and  have  passed  through  the  gate."  And  in  St.  Matthew,  xxiv.  43 : 
"  He  would  have  watched,  and  would  not  have  suffered  his  house  to  be 
broken  up." 

'  Commandment  here  is  four  syllables,  as  if  spelt  commantUment. 


22  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  I. 

Enter  Winchester,  with  his  Serving-men  in  tawny  coats. 

Win.    How  now,  ambitious  Humphrey  !  what  means  this  ? 

Glo.    Peel'd  '^  priest,  dost  thou  command  me  be  shut  out? 

Win.    I  do,  thou  most  usurping  proditor,^ 
And  not  protector,  of  the  King  or  realm. 

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

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

■*  Peel'd  is  bald,  alluding  to  his  tonsure  or  shaven  head, 
s  Proditor  is  the  same  as  traitor  or  betrayer. 

6  One  of  Gloster's  charges  against  Cardinal  Beaufort  was,  that,  when 
Henry  the  Fifth  was  Prince  of  Wales,  the  Cardinal  set  on  foot  a  scheme  for 
having  him  assassinated  at  his  lodgings  in  the  palace  of  Westminster. 

7  The  pubhc  stews  in  Southwark  were  under  the  jurisdiction  of  the 
Bishops  of  Winchester.  So  thai  licenses  for  keeping  them  were  issued  on 
the  Cardinal's  authority. 

8  Canvass  was  a  technical  name  for  the  peculiarly  constructed  net  with 
which  wild  hawks  were  snared  by  the  falconer :  at  least,  it  was  technically 
applied  to  catching  wild  hawks  in  this  way ;  and  to  be  canvassed  in  this 
sense  was  to  be  taken,  trapped,  or  netted.  The  following,  from  Pettie's 
Palace  of  Pleasure,  hr'mgs  out  this  meaning:  "As  the  mouse,  having  es- 
caped out  of  the  trap,  wil  hardly  be  allured  againe  with  the  intising  baite, 
or  as  the  hawke,  having  bin  once  canvassed  in  the  nettes,  wil  make  it  daun- 
gerous  to  strike  againe  at  the  stale ;  "  &c.  The  phrase  has  peculiar  expres- 
siveness when  applied  to  the  broad-brimmed  cardinal's  hat,  with  its  long 
strings  knotted  into  net-like  meshes  on  either  side.  And  Gloster,  in  saying 
"  I'll  canvass  thee  in  thy  broad  cardinal's  hat,"  expressed  his  determination 
to  trap  and  seize  the  arrogant  churchman,  if  he  persisted  in  his  violent 
courses.  —  Edinburgh  Review,  October,  1872. 

*  The  allusion  here  is  well  explained  by  a  passage  in  The  Travels  of  Sir 
yohn  Mandeville :  "  In  that  place  where  Damascus  was  founded,  Kayn 
sloughe  Abel  his  brother."  And  Ritson  has  another  of  like  drift  from  the 
Polychronicon  :  "  Damascus  is  as  much  as  to  say  shedding  of  blood  ;  for 
there  Chaym  slew  Abel,  and  hid  him  in  the  sand." 


SCENE  III.  KING    HEXRY    THE    SIXTH.  2$ 

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

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

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

Win.    Gloster,  thou'lt  answer  this  before  the  Pope. 

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

Here  Gloster  and  his  Serving-men  attack  tJie  otiur  party  ; 
and  enter  in  the  hurly-burly  the  Mayor  of  London  and 
Oflficers. 

May.    Fie,  lords  !  that  you,  being  supreme  magistrates, 
Thus  contumeliously  should  break  the  peace  ! 

Glo.    Peace,  Mayor  !  thou  know'st  Utile  of  my  wrongs  : 
Here's  Beaufort,  that  regards  nor  God  nor  King, 
Hath  here  distrain'd  '"^  the  Tower  to  his  use. 

Win.    Here's  Gloucester,  a  foe  to  citizens  ; 
One  that  still  motions  war,  and  never  peace, 

w  It  appears  from  this,  that  Gloster's  servants  wore  blut  coats,  and  Win- 
chester's tawny.  Such  was  the  usual  livery  of  servants  in  the  Poet's  time, 
and  long  before.  Stowe  informs  us  that  on  a  certain  occasion  the  Bishop  of 
London  "  was  attended  on  by  a  goodly  company  of  gentlemen  in  tawny  coats." 

11  A  Winchester  goose  was  a  particular  stage  of  the  disease  contracted  in 
the  stews ;  hence  Gloster  bestows  the  epithet  on  the  bishop  in  derision  and 
scorn.    A  person  affected  with  that  disease  was  likewise  so  called. 

12  To  distrain  is  to  J«se  arbitrarUy  or  fy  violemf. 


24  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  act  I. 

O'ercharging  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. 

Glo.    I  will  not  answer  thee  with  words,  but  blows. 

\^Here  they  skirmish  again. 

May.    Nought  rests  for  me,  in  this  tumultuous  strife. 
But  to  make  open  proclamation  :  — 
Come,  officer ;  as  loud  as  e'er  thou  canst. 

Off.  [Reads.]  All  manner  of  men  assembled  here  in  arms 
this  day  against  God's  peace  and  the  King's,  we  charge  and 
command  you,  in  his  Highness'  name,  to  repair  to  your  sev- 
eral dwelling-places ;  and  not  to  wear,  handle,  or  use  any 
sword,  weapon,  or  dagger,  henceforward,  upon  pain  of  death. 

Glo.    Cardinal,  I'll  be  no  breaker  of  the  law  : 
But  we  shall  meet,  and  break  our  minds  at  large. 

Win.    Gloster,  we'll  meet ;  to  thy  dear  cost,  be  sure  : 
Thy  heart-blood  I  will  have  for  this  day's  work. 

May.    I'll  call  for  clubs,^^  if  you  will  not  away  : 
This  Cardinal's  more  haughty  than  the  Devil. 

Glo.    Mayor,  farewell :  thou  dost  but  what  thou  mayst. 

Win.    Abominable  Gloster  !  guard  thy  head  ; 
For  I  intend  to  have  it  off  ere  long.  \_Exeunt,  severally,  Glos- 
ter and  Winchester  with  their  Serving-men. 

May.   See  the  coast  clear'd,  and  then  we  will  depart.  — 
Good  God,  that  nobles  should  such  stomachs  i'*  bear  ! 
I  myself  fight  not  once  in  forty  year.  \_Exeunt. 

18  The  old  practice  of  calling  out  Clubs,  clubs!  to  rouse  and  rally  the 
London  apprentices  to  a  street-affray,  is  often  alluded  to  by  contemporary 
writers.  It  would  seem  that  shop-keepers  generally  had  clubs  ready  for 
such  use.    See  vol.  v.  page  loo,  note  4. 

1*  Stomach  here  means  pride  or  haughty  resentment.  See  vol.  i.  page 
170,  note  6. 


I 


SCENE  IV.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  2$ 

Scene  IV. — France.     Before  Orleans. 
Enter,  on  the  walls,  the  Master- Gunner  and  his  Son. 

Af.  Gun.    Sirrah,  thou  know'st  how  Orleans  is  besieged, 
And  how  the  EngUsh  have  the  suburbs  won. 

Son.    Father,  I  know ;  and  oft  have  shot  at  them, 
Howe'er,  unfortunate,  I  naiss'd  my  aim. 

M.  Gun.    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  'spials  have  informed  me 
How  th'  English,  in  the  suburbs  close  entrench'd, 
Wont,  through  a  secret  grate  of  iron  bars 
In  yonder  tower,  to  overpeer  the  city ; 
And  thence  discover  how  with  most  advantage 
They  may  vex  us  with  shot  or  with  assault. 
To  intercept  this  inconvenience, 
A  piece  of  ordnance  'gainst  it  I  have  placed ; 
And  even  these  three  days  have  I  watch'd,  if  I 
Could  see  them. 

Now  do  thou  watch,  for  I  can  stay  no  longer. 
If  thou  spy'st  any,  run  and  bring  me  word  ; 
And  thou  shalt  find  me  at  the  governor's.  \_Exit. 

Son.    Father,  I  warrant  you  ;  take  you  no  care  ; 
I'll  never  trouble  you,  if  I  may  spy  them. 

Enter,  in  an  upper  chamber  of  a  tower,  the  Lords  Salisbury 
and  Talbot,  Sir  Wiluaai  Glansdale,  Sir  Thomas  Gar- 
grave,  and  others. 

Sal.   Talbot,  my  life,  my  joy,  again  retum'd  ! 
How  wert  thou  handled  being  prisoner  ? 
Or  by  what  means  gott'st  thou  to  be  released? 
Discourse,  I  pr'ythee,  on  this  turret's  top. 


26  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  i. 

Tal.   The  Duke  of  Bedford  had  a  prisoner 
Called  the  brave  Lord  Ponton  de  Santrailles ; 
For  him  was  I  exchanged  and  ransomed. 
But  with  a  baser  man-of-arms  by  far, 
Once,  in  contempt,  they  would  have  barter'd  me  : 
Which  I,  disdaining,  scorn'd ;  and  craved  death 
Rather  than  I  would  be  so  vile-esteem'd. 
In  fine,  redeem'd  I  was  as  I  desired. 
But,  O,  the  treacherous  Fastolfe  wounds  my  heart ! 
Whom  with  my  bare  fists  I  would  execute. 
If  I  now  had  him  brought  into  my  power. 

Sal.   Yet  tell'st  thou  not  how  thou  wert  entertain 'd. 

Tal.   With  scoffs,  and  scorns,  and  contumelious  taunts, 
In  open  market-place  produced  they  me. 
To  be  a  public  spectacle  to  all : 
Here,  said  they,  is  the  terror  of  the  French, 
The  scarecrow  that  affrights  our  children  so.i 
Then  broke  I  from  the  officers  that  led  me, 
And  with  my  nails  digg'd  stones  out  of  the  ground, 
To  hurl  at  the  beholders  of  my  shame  : 
My  grisly  countenance  made  others  fly ; 
None  durst  come  near  for  fear  of  sudden  death. 
In  iron  walls  they  deem'd  me  not  secure  ; 
So  great  fear  of  my  name  'mongst  them  was  spread, 
That  they  supposed  I  could  rend  bars  of  steel. 
And  spurn  in  pieces  posts  of  adamant : 
Wherefore  a  guard  of  chosen  shot^  I  had. 
That  walk'd  about  me  every  minute-while  ; 
And,  if  I  did  but  stir  out  of  my  bed, 

1  This  man  [Talbot]  was  to  the  French  people  a  very  scourge  ana  .* 
daily  terror,  insomuch  that  as  his  person  was  fearful  and  terrible  to  his  ad- 
versaries present,  so  his  name  and  fame  was  spiteful  and  dreadful  to  the 
common  people  absent;  insomuch  that  women  in  France,  to  feare  their 
yong  children,  would  crye  the  Talbot  cometh.  —  Hall's  Chronicle. 

2  Shot  for  shooters  or  marksmen.     "  He's  a  good  shot "  is  still  in  use. 


SCENE  IV.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  2/ 

Ready  they  were  to  shoot  me  to  the  heart. 

Sal.    I  grieve  to  hear  what  torments  you  endured ; 
But  we  will  be  revenged  sufficiently. 
Now  it  is  supper-time  in  Orleans : 
Here,  through  this  secret  grate,  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  Glansdale, 
Let  me  have  your  express  opinions 
Where  is  best  place  io  make  our  battery  next. 

Gar.    I  think,  at  the  north  gate  ;  for  there  stand  lords. 

Glan.   And  I,  here,  at  the  bulwark  of  the  bridge. 

Tai.    For  aught  I  see,  this  city  must  be  famish'd. 
Or  with  light  skirmishes  enfeebled. 

\Shot  from  the  toiun.     Salisbury  and  Gargrave /<///. 

Sal.    O  Lord,  have  mercy  on  us,  wretched  sinners  ! 

Gar.    O  Lord,  have  mercy  on  me,  woeful  man  ! 

Tal.   What  chance  is  this  that  suddenly  hath  cross'd  us? — 
Speak,  Salisbury  ;  at  least,  if  thou  canst  speak  : 
How  farest  thou,  mirror  of  all  martial  men  ? 
One  of  thy  eyes  and  thy  cheek's  side  struck  off !  — 
Accursed  tower  !  accursed  fatal  hand 
That  hath  contrived  this  woeful  tragedy  ! 
In  thirteen  battles  Salisbury  o'ercame  ; 
Henry  the  Fifth  he  first  train'd  to  the  wars  ; 
Whilst  any  trump  did  sound,  or  drum  struck  up. 
His  sword  did  ne'er  leave  striking  in  the  field.  — 
Yet  livest  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*'  to  none  alive, 

3  Here,  as  often  elsewhere  in  Shakespeare,  the  ending  -ious  was  meant  to 
be  dissyllabic  The  same  of  various  other  endings,  such  as  -ion  and  -ience. 
So  in  this  scene :  "  Let  me  have  your  express  opinions^ 


28  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  I. 

If  Salisbury  wants  mercy  at  thy  hands  !  — 
Bear  hence  his  body ;  I  will  help  to  bury  it.  — 
Sir  Thomas  Gargrave,  hast  thou  any  life  ? 
Speak  unto  Talbot ;  nay,  look  up  to  him.  — 
Salisbury,  cheer  thy  spirit  with  this  comfort ; 
Thou  shalt  not  die  whiles  — 
He  beckons  with  his  hand,  and  smiles  on  me, 
As  who  should  say,^  When  I  am  dead  and  gone, 
Reniember  to  avenge  me  on  the  Fi'ench.  — 
Plantagenet,^  I  will ;  and,  Nero-like, 
Play  on  the  lute,  beholding  the  towns  burn  : 
Wretched  shall  France  be  only  in  my  name.  — 

\Thutider  heard ;  afterwards  an  alarum. 
What  stir  is  this?  what  tumult's  in  the  heavens? 
Whence  cometh  this  alarum  and  this  noise  ? 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.    My  lord,  my  lord,  the  French  have  gather'd  head  : 
The  Dauphin,  with  one  Joan  la  Pucelle  join'd,  — 
A  holy  prophetess  new  risen  up,  — 
Is  come  with  a  great  power  to  raise  the  siege. 

[Salisbury  lifts  himself  up  atid groans. 

Tal.    Hear,  hear  how  dying  Salisbury  doth  groan  ! 
It  irks  his  heart  he  cannot  be  revenged.  — 
Frenchmen,  I'll  be  a  Salisbury  to  you  : 
Pucelle  or  puzzel,'^  dolphin  or  dogfish, 

■*  "As  who  should  say"  is  the  old  phrase  for  "As  if  he  would  say,"  or, 
"As  much  as  to  say."     See  vol.  iii.  page  u8,  note  22. 

6  This  looks  as  if  Salisbury's  name  were  supposed  to  be  Plantagenet.  It 
was,  in  fact,  Thomas  Montacute. 

^  Puzzel  means  a  dirty  wench  or  a  drab;  "from  puzza,  that  is,  malus 
foetor,"  says  Minsheu.  So  in  Steevens's  Apology  for  Herodotus,  1607  : 
"  Some  filthy  queans,  especially  our  puzzels  of  Paris,  use  this  theft."  .'\nd 
in  Stubbes's  Anatomy  of  Abuses,  1595 :  "Nor  yet  any  droye  nor  puzzcl  in  the 
country  but  will  carry  a  nosegay  in  her  hand."  It  should  be  remembered 
that  in  the  Poet's  time  dauphin  was  always  written  dolphin. 


SCENE  V.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  29 

Your  hearts  I'll  stamp  out  with  my  horse's  heels, 
And  make  a  quagmire  of  your  mingled  brains.  — 
Convey  me  Salisbury  into  his  tent : 
Then  try  we  what  these  dastard  Frenchmen  dare. 

\_Exeunt,  bearing  out  the  bodies. 

Scene  V.  —  Before  one  of  the  Gates  of  Orleans. 

Alarums.  Skirmishings.  Enter  Talbot,  pursuing  the  Dau- 
phin, drives  hi?n  in,  and  exit:  then  enter  La  Pucelle,  driving 
Englishmen  before  her,  and  exit  after  them  :  then  re-enter 
Talbot. 

TaL   Where  is  my  strength,  my  valour,  and  my  force  ? 
Our  English  troops  retire,  I  cannot  stay  them ; 
A  woman  clad  in  armour  chaseth  them. 
Here,  here  she  comes.  — 

Re-enter  La  Pucelle. 

I'll  have  a  bout  with  thee ; 
Devil  or  Devil's  dam,  I'll  conjure  thee  : 
Blood  will  I  draw  on  thee,'  —  thou  art  a  witch,  — 
And  straightway  give  thy  soul  to  him  thou  servest. 

Puc.    Come,  come,  'tis  only  I  that  must  disgrace  thee. 

\They  fight. 
TaL    Heavens,  can  you  suffer  Hell  so  to  prevail  ? 
My  breast  I'll  burst  with  straining  of  my  courage, 
And  from  my  shoulders  crack  my  arms  asunder, 
But  I  will  chastise  this  high-minded  strumpet. 

\They  fight  again. 
Puc.  [^Retiring.']  Talbot,  farewell ;  thy  hour  is  not  yet  come  : 
I  must  go  victual  Orleans  forthwith. 
O'ertake  me,  if  thou  canst ;  I  scorn  thy  strength. 

1  It  was  believed  that  drawing  blood  from  a  witch  rendered  her  raaUce 
impotent  at  once. 


30  THE    FIRST    PART    OF.  ACT  i. 

Go,  go  cheer  up  thy  hunger-starved  men ; 
Help  Salisbury  to  make  his  testament : 
This  day  is  ours,  as  many  more  shall  be. 

[La  Pucelle  enters  the  town  with  Soldiers. 
Tal.    My  thoughts  are  whirled  like  a  potter's  wheel ; 
I  know  not  where  I  am,  nor  what  I  do  : 
A  witch  by  fear,  not  force,  like  Hannibal,^ 
Drives  back  our  troops,  and  conquers  as  she  lists  : 
So  bees  with  smoke,  and  doves  with  noisome  stench, 
Are  from  their  hives  and  houses  driven  away. 
They  call'd  us,  for  our  fierceness,  English  dogs ; 
Now,  like  to  whelps,  we  crying  run  away. —  \_A  short  alarum. 
Hark,  countrymen  !  either  renew  the  fight, 
Or  tear  the  lions  out  of  England's  coat ; 
Renounce  your  soil,  give  sheep  in  lions'  stead  : 
Sheep  run  not  half  so  timorous  from  the  wolf, 
Or  horse'  or  oxen  from  the  leopard. 
As  you  fly  from  your  oft-subdued  slaves. 

\_Alarum.     Another  skirmish. 
It  will  not  be  :  retire  into  your  trenches  : 
You  all  consented  unto  Salisbury's  death. 
For  none  would  strike  a  stroke  in  his  revenge. 
Pucelle  is  enter'd  into  Orleans, 
In  spite  of  us  or  aught  that  we  could  do. 
O,  would  I  were  to  die  with  Salisbury  ! 
The  shame  hereof  will  make  me  hide  my  head. 

\_Alarum  ;  retreat.     Exeunt  Talbot  and  Forces. 

Flourish.     Enter,  on  the  walls,  La  Pucelle,  Charles,  the 
Bastard  of  Orleans,  Reignier,  Alencon,  awrt' Soldiers. 

Puc.   Advance  our  waving  colours  on  the  walls ; 

2  Alluding  to  Hannibal's  stratagem  of  fastening  bundles  of  lighted  twigs 
to  his  oxen,  and  then  turning  them  loose,  in  order  to  divert  the  Romans 
while  he  made  his  escape. 


SCENE  V.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  31 

Rescued  is  Orleans  from  the  English  wolves : 
Thus  Joan  la  Pucelle  hath  perform'd  her  word. 

Char.    Divinest  creature,  bright  Astraea's  daughter, 
How  shall  I  honour  thee  for  this  success  ? 
Thy  promises  are  like  Adonis'  gardens. 
That  one  day  bloom'd,  and  fruitful  were  the  next.^  — 
France,  triumph  in  thy  glorious  prophetess  ! 
Recover'd  is  the  town  of  Orleans  : 
More  blessed  hap  did  ne'er  befall  our  State. 

Reig.   Why  ring  not  out  the  bells  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. 

Alen.   All  France  will  be  replete  with  mirth  and  joy, 
\Vhen  they  shall  hear  how  we  have  play'd  the  men. 

Char.    'Tis  Joan,  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  realm 
Shall  in  procession  sing  her  endless  praise. 
A  statelier  pjTamis  to  her  I'll  rear 
Than  Rhodope's  of  Memphis  ^  ever  was  : 
In  memory  of  her  when  she  is  dead. 
Her  ashes,  in  an  urn  more  precious 


3  So  in  Spenser's  description  of  the  "  Gardens  of  Adonis,"  The  Faerie 
Queene,  iii.  6,  42 : 

There  is  a  continuall  spring,  and  har\'est  there 
Q>ntinuall,  both  meeting  in  one  tyme  : 
For  both  the  boughes  doe  laughing  blossoms  beare, 
And  with  fresh  colours  decke  the  wanton  pryme. 
And  eke  attonce  the  heavy  trees  they  clyme, 
Which  seeme  to  labour  under  their  fruites  lode. 

*  Rhodope,  or  Rhodopis,  (the  rosy-cheeked^  a  celebrated  courtezan,  who 
was  a  slave  in  the  same  service  with  .Csop,  at  Samos.  She  obtained  so 
much  money  by  selling  her  favours  at  Naucrates,  that  she  is  said  to  have 
erected  at  Memphis  "  the  fairest  and  most  commended  of  the  pyramids." 


32  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  II. 

Than  the  rich-jewell'd  coffer  of  Darius,^ 
Transported  shall  be  at  high  festivals 
Before  the  Kings  and  Queens  of  France. 
No  longer  on  Saint  Denis  will  we  cry, 
.  But  Joan  la  Pucelle  shall  be  France's  saint. 
Come  in,  and  let  us  banquet  royally. 
After  this  golden  day  of  victory.  \_Flourish.     Exeunt. 


ACT  II. 

Scene  I.  —  France.     Before  Orleans. 
Enter,  to  the  gate,  a  French  Sergeant  and  two  Sentinels. 

Serg.    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.' 

I  Sent.    Sergeant,    you    shall.     \^Exit    Sergeant.]  —  Thus 
are  poor  servitors  — 
When  others  sleep  upon  their  quiet  beds  — 
Constrain'd  to  watch  in  darkness,  rain,  and  cold. 

Enter  Talbot,  Bedford,  Burgundy,  and  Forces,  with  scaling- 
ladders,  their  drums  beating  a  dead  march. 

Tal.    Lord  regent,  and  redoubted  Burgundy,^  — 

6  In  what  price  the  noble  poems  of  Homer  were  holden  by  Alexander 
the  Great,  insomuch  that  everie  night  they  were  layd  under  his  pillow,  and 
by  day  were  carried  in  the  rich  jewel  coffer  of  Darius,  lately  before  van- 
quished by  him. —  Puttenham'S  Arte  of  English  Poesie,  1589. 

1  In  the  military  language  of  our  time,  "  the  court-of-guard  "  is  called  the 
head-quarters  of  the  guard ;  that  is,  the  place  where  the  guard  musters. 

2  The  present  Duke  of  Burgundy  is  known  in  history  as  "  Philip  the 
Good."  He  succeeded  to  the  title  in  1419,  at  which  time  his  father  was 
murdered.    That  treacherous  assassination  had  the  effect  of  knitting  Philip 


SCENE  I,  KIXG    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  33 

By  whose  approach  the  regions  of  Artois, 
Walloon,  and  Picardy  are  friends  to  us,  — 
This  happy  night  the  Frenchmen  are  secure,^ 
Having  all  day  caroused  and  banqueted  : 
Embrace  we,  then,  this  opportunity. 
As  fitting  best  to  quittance  ^  their  deceit, 
Contrived  by  art  and  baleful  sorcer)'. 

Bed.    Coward  of  France  !  how  much  he  wTongs  his  fame. 
Despairing  of  his  own  arm's  fortitude. 
To  join  with  witches  and  the  help  of  Hell ! 

Bur.  Traitors  have  never  other  company. 
But  what's  that  Pucelle,  whom  they  term  so  pure  ? 

Tal.    A  maid,  they  say. 

Bed.  .\  maid  !  and  be  so  martial ! 

Bur.    Pray  God  she  prove  not  masculine  ere  long  ; 
If  underneath  the  standard  of  the  French 
She  carry  armour,  as  she  hath  begim. 

Tal.   Well,  let  them  practise  and  converse  with  spirits : 
God  is  our  fortress,  in  whose  conquering  name 
Let  us  resolve  to  scale  their  flinty  bulwarks. 

Bed.    Ascend,  brave  Talbot ;  we  will  follow  thee. 

Tal.    Not  all  together :  better  far,  I  guess. 


in  close  alliance  with  England,  which  was  further  strengthened  and  pro- 
longed by  the  marriage  of  Bedford  with  his  sister  in  1423.  Her  death, 
which  occurred  in  1432,  greatly  loosened  the  bonds  between  her  brother 
and  the  regent.  At  length,  under  the  mediation  of  the  Pope,  a  congress  of 
English,  French,  and  Burgundian  ambassadors  was  held  at  .'Xrras  in  1435. 
which  ended  in  a  reconciliation  of  Burgundy  and  the  Dauphin,  who  had  then 
succeeded  to  the  crown  of  France.  The  Poet  represents  the  detaching  of 
Burgundy  from  England  to  have  been  brought  about  by  Joan  of  Arc ;  for 
which  the  only  historical  ground  is,  that  Joan  wrote  a  letter  to  the  duke 
urging  upon  him  the  course  which  he  afterwards  took. 

8  Secure  is  careless  or  negligent,  like  the  Latin  securus.  See  vol.  vi.  page 
38,  note  16. 

■*  To  quittance  is  to  requite  or  retort.  So  in  Greene's  Never  too  late : 
"  Shall  I  be  so  ingrate  as  to  quittance  affection  with  fraude  ?  " 


34  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  II. 

That  we  do  make  our  entrance  several  ways ; 
That,  if  it  chance  the  one  of  us  do  fail, 
The  other  yet  may  rise  against  their  force. 

Bed.    Agreed  :  I'll  to  yond  corner. 

Bur.  I  to  this. 

Tal.   And  here  will  Talbot  mount,  or  make  his  grave.  — 
Now,  Salisbury,  for  thee,  and  for  the  right 
Of  English  Henry,  shall  this  night  appear 
How  much  in  duty  I  am  bound  to  both. 

\The  English  scale  the  walls,  crying  Saint  George  ! 
a  Talbot !  and  all  enter  the  town. 

Sent.   Arm  !  arm  !  the  enemy  doth  make  assault ! 

The  French  leap  over  the  walls  in  their  shirts.  Enter,  sev- 
eral ways,  the  Bastard  of  Orleans,  Alencon,  «;«// Reignier, 
half  ready  and  half  unready. 

Alen.    How  now,  my  lords  !  what,  all  unready^  so? 

Bast.    Unready  !  ay,  and  glad  we  'scaped  so  well. 

Reig.    'Twas  time,  I  trow,  to  wake  and  leave  our  beds, 
Hearing  alarums  at  our  chamber-doors. 

Alen.    Of  all  exploits  since  first  I  follow'd  arms, 
Ne'er  heard  I  of  a  warlike  enterprise 
More  venturous  or  desperate  than  this. 

Bast    I  think  this  Talbot  be  a  fiend  of  Hell. 

Reig.    If  not  of  Hell,  the  Heavens,  sure,  favour  him. 

Alen.    Here  cometh  Charles  :  I  marvel  how  he  sped. 

Bast.  Tut,  holy  Joan  was  his  defensive  guard. 

Enter  Charles  and  La  Pucelle. 

Char.    Is  this  thy  cunning,  thou  deceitful  dame  ? 
Didst  thou  at  first,  to  flatter  us  withal, 

5  Unready  is  undressed.  So  in  Chapman's  Alonsieur  D'  Olive,  1606 : 
"  You  are  not  going  to  bed ;  I  see  you  are  not  yet  unready."  And  in  Cot- 
grave  :  "  Deshabiller,  to  unclothe,  make  unready,  put  or  take  oif  clothes." 


SCENE  I.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  35 

Make  us  partakers  of  a  little  gain, 

That  now  our  loss  might  be  ten  times  so  much? 

Puc.   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  and  lay  the  fault  on  me  ? 
Improvident  soldiers  !  had  your  watch  been  good, 
This  sudden  mischief  never  could  have  fall'n. 

Char.    Duke  of  Alengon,  this  was  your  default, 
That,  being  captain  of  the  watch  to-night. 
Did  look  no  better  to  that  weighty  charge. 

Alen.    Had  all  your  quarters  been  as  safely  kept 
As  that  whereof  I  had  the  government. 
We  had  not  been  thus  shamefully  surprised. 

Bast.   Mine  was  secur?. 

Reig.  And  so  was  mine,  my  lord. 

Char.    And,  for  myself,  most  part  of  all  this  night, 
Within  her  quarter  and  mine  own  precinct 
I  was  employ'd  in  passing  to  and  fro, 
About  relieving  of  the  sentinels  : 
Then  how  or  which  way  should  they  first  break  in  ? 

Puc.    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,  scatter'd  and  dispersed, 
And  lay  new  platforms  ^  to  endamage  them. 

Alarums.     Enter  an   EngUsh  Soldier,  crying  A  Talbot !  a 
Talbot !     They  fly,  leaving  their  clothes  behind. 

Sold.   I'll  be  so  bold  to  take  what  they  have  left. 

s  Platforms  for  plans  or  schemes.  So  the  plot  of  a  play  was  formerly 
called  the  platform.  Sometimes  applied  to  systems  of  theology ;  as,  "  the 
Geneva  platform"  and  "the  Saybrook//a^r»i." 


36  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  ir. 

The  cry  of  Talbot  serves  me  for  a  sword ; 

For  I  have  loaden  me  with  many  spoils, 

Using  no  other  weapon  but  his  name.  \_Exit. 


Scene  II.  —  Orleans.     Within  the  Town. 
Enter  Talbot,  Bedford,  Burgundy,  a  Captain,  and  others. 

Bed.   The  day  begins  to  break,  and  night  is  fled, 
Whose  pitchy  mantle  over-veil'd  the  Earth. 
Here  sound  retreat,  and  cease  our  hot  pursuit. 

[^Rctreat  sounded. 

Tal.    Bring  forth  the  body  of  old  Salisbury, 
And  here  advance  it  in  the  market-place. 
The  middle  centre  of  this  cursed  tewn. 
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-niglit. 
And,  that  hereafter  ages  may  behold 
What  ruin  happen'd  in  revenge  of  him, 
Within  their  chiefest  temple  I'll  erect 
A  tomb,  wherein  his  corpse  shall  be  interr'd  : 
Upon  the  which,  that  every  one  may  read. 
Shall  be  engraved  the  sack  of  Orleans, 
The  treacherous  manner  of  his  mournful  death. 
And  what  a  terror  he  had  been  to  France. 
But,  lords,  in  all  our  bloody  massacre, 
I  muse  ^  we  met  not  with  the  Dauphin's  Grace, 
His  new-come  champion,  virtuous  Joan  of  Arc, 
Nor  any  of  his  false  confederates. 

Bed.    'Tis  thought.  Lord  Talbot,  when  the  fight  began, 
Roused  on  the  sudden  from  their  drowsy  beds. 
They  did,  amongst  the  troops  of  armed  men, 

1  To  muse,  in  one  of  its  old  senses,  is  to  wonder  or  marvel. 


SCENE  II.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  37 

Leap  o'er  the  walls  for  refuge  in  the  field. 

Bur.    Myself —  as  far  as  I  could  well  discern 
For  smoke  and  dusky  vapours  of  the  night  — 
Am  sure  I  scared  the  Dauphin  and  his  trull, 
When  arm  in  arm  they  both  came  swiftly  running. 
Like  to  a  pair  of  loving  turtle-doves, 
rhat  could  not  live  asunder  day  or  night. 
After  that  things  are  set  in  order  here, 
\Ve'll  follow  them  with  all  the  power  we  have. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.    All  hail,  my  lords  !     Which  of  this  princely  train 
Call  ye  the  warlike  Talbot,  for  his  acts 
So  much  applauded  through  the  realm  of  France  ? 

Tal.    Here  is  the  Talbot :  who  would  speak  with  him  ? 

Mess.   The  virtuous  lady.  Countess  of  Auvergne, 
With  modesty  admiring  thy  renown. 
By  me  entreats,  great  lord,  thou  wouldst  vouchsafe 
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. 

Bur.    Is  it  even  so  ?     Nay,  then  I  see  our  wars 
Will  turn  unto  a  peaceful  comic  sport, 
When  ladies  crave  to  be  encounter'd  with.  — 
You  mayn't,  my  lord,  despise  her  gentle  suit. 

Tal.    Ne'er  trust  me,  then  ;  for  when  a  world  of  men 
Could  not  prevail  with  all  their  oratory. 
Yet  hath  a  woman's  kindness  over-ruled  :  — 
And  therefore  tell  her  I  return  great  thanks. 
And  in  submission  will  attend  on  her.  — 
Will  not  your  Honours  bear  me  company  ? 

Bed.    No,  truly  ;  it  is  more  than  manners  will : 

2  "  Where  she  lies  "  is  where  she  dwells. 


38  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  II. 

And  I  have  heard  it  said,  unbidden  guests 
Are  often  welcomest  when  they  are  gone. 

Tal.    Well  then,  alone,  since  there's  no  remedy, 
I  mean  to  prove  this  lady's  courtesy.  — 
Come  hither,  captain.    [  Whispers 7\  You  perceive  my  mind  ? 

Capt.    I  do,  my  lord,  and  mean  accordingly.        [^Exeunt. 

Scene  III.  —  Auvergne.      Court  of  the  Castle. 
Enter  the  Countess  and  her  Porter. 

Count.    Porter,  remember  what  I  gave  in  charge  ; 
And,  when  you've  done  so,  bring  the  keys  to  me. 

Port.    Madam,  I  will.  \_Exit. 

Count.   The  plot  is  laid  :   if  all  things  fall  out  right, 
I  shall  as  famous  be  by  this  exploit 
As  Scythian  Tomyris  by  Cyrus'  death. 
Great  is  the  rumour  of  this  dreadful  knight. 
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. 

Mess.    Madam, 
According  as  your  ladyship  desired. 
By  message  craved,  so  is  Lord  Talbot  come. 

Count.    And  he  is  welcome.     What !  is  this  the  man? 

Mess.    Madam,  it  is. 

Count.  Is  this  the  scourge  of  France  ? 

Is  this  the  Talbot,  so  much  fear'd  abroad. 
That  with  his  name  the  mothers  still  their  babes  ? 
I  see  report  is  fabulous  and  false  : 
I  thought  I  should  have  seen  some  Hercules, 
A  second  Hector,  for  his  grim  aspect 

1  Censure  'vs,  judgment  or  opinion.    A  very  frequent  usage. 


SCENE  III.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  39 

And  large  proportion  of  his  strong-knit  limbs. 
Alas,  this  is  a  child,  a  silly  dwarf ! 
It  cannot  be  this  weak  and  writhled  -  shrimp 
Should  strike  such  terror  to  his  enemies. 

Tal.    Madam,  I  have  been  bold  to  trouble  you ; 
But,  since  your  ladyship  is  not  at  leisure, 
I'll  sort  some  other  time  to  \isit  you.  \_Going. 

Count.   What  means  he  now?     Go  ask  him  whither   he 
goes. 

Mess.    Stay,  my  Lord  Talbot ;  for  my  lady  craves 
To  know  the  cause  of  your  abrupt  departure. 

Tal.    Marry,  for  that  she's  in  a  wrong  belief, 
I  go  to  certify  her  Talbot's  here. 

Re-enter  Porter  with  keys. 

Count.    If  thou  be  he,  then  art  thou  prisoner. 

Tal.    Prisoner  !  to  whom? 

Count.  To  me,  blood-thirsty  lord  ; 

And  for  that  cause  I  train'd  thee  to  my  house. 
Long  time  thy  shadow  hath  been  thrall  to  me, 
For  in  my  gallerj'  thy  picture  hangs  : 
I       But  now  the  substance  shall  endure  the  like  ; 
And  I  will  chain  these  legs  and  arms  of  thine. 
That  hast  by  tjTanny,  these  many  years. 
Wasted  our  country,  slain  our  citizens, 
And  sent  our  sons  and  husbands  captivate. 

Tal.    Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

Count.    Laughest  thou,  \vretch?   thy  mirth  shall  turn   to 
moan. 

Tal.    I  laugh  to  see  your  ladyship  so  fond  ^ 

-  WrithUd  for  wrinkled.  Thus  Spenser  :  "  Her  writhled  skin  as  rough 
as  maple  rind."  And  Marston,  in  his  fourth  Satire  :  "  Cold  writhled  eld 
his  lives  web  almost  spent." 

13  Fond  ^s  foolish  or  silly  :  commonly  so  in  the  old  writers. 


40 


THE    FIRST    PART    OF 


To  think  that  you  have  aught  but  Talbot's  shadow 
Whereon  to  practise  your  severity. 

Count.    Why,  art  not  thou  the  man  ? 

Tal.  I  am  indeed. 

Count.   Then  have  I  substance  too. 

Tal.    No,  no,  I  am  but  shadow  of  myself: 
You  are  deceived,  my  substance  is  not  here ; 
For  what  you  see  is  but  the  smallest  part 
And  least  proportion  of  humanity  : 
I  tell  you,  madam,  were  the  whole  frame  here, 
It  is  of  such  a  spacious  lofty  pitch. 
Your  roof  were  not  sufficient  to  contain 't. 

Count.   This  is  a  riddling  merchant  for  the  nonce  ;  ^ 
He  will  be  here,  and  yet  he  is  not  here  : 
How  can  these  contrarieties  agree  ? 

Tal.   That  will  I  show  you  presently. 

\He  winds  a  horn.     Drums  strike  up;  then  a  peal 
of  ordnance.     The  gates   being  forced,  efiter 
Soldiers. 
How  say  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, 
Razeth  your  cities,  and  subverts  your  towns. 
And  in  a  moment  makes  them  desolate. 

Count.    Victorious  Talbot !  pardon  my  abuse  :  ^ 
I  find  thou  art  no  less  than  fame  hath  bruited,^ 

*  The  term  merchant,  which  was  often  applied  to  the  lowest  class  of 
tradesmen,  seems  to  have  been  anciently  used  on  such  familiar  occasions 
in  contradistinction  to  gentleman ;  signifying  that  the  person  showed  him- 
self, by  his  behaviour,  to  be  a  low  fellow.  So,  in  Romeo  and  yuliet,  the 
Nurse  says,  "  I  pray  you,  sir,  what  saucy  merchant  was  this,  that  was  so  full 
of  his  ropery  ?  "  —  "  For  the  nonce  "  is  for  the  occasion  or  the  time. 

6  Abuse  is  deception,  trick,  or  cheat.     Oftf^n  so. 

6  Bruited  is  noised  abrocul  or  loudly  reported. 


SCENE  IV.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  4I 

And  more  than  may  be  gather'd  by  thy  shape. 
Let  my  presumption  not  provoke  thy  wTath ; 
For  I  am  sorry  that  with  reverence 
I  did  not  entertain  thee  as  thou  art. 

Tal.    Be  not  dismay'd,  fair  lady ;  nor  misconstrue 
The  mind  of  Talbot,  as  you  did  mistake 
The  outAvard  composition  of  his  body. 
What  you  have  done  hath  not  offended  me  : 
Nor  other  satisfaction  do  I  crave. 
But  only,  with  your  patience,  that  we  may 
Taste  of  your  wine,  and  see  what  cates  you  have  ; 
For  soldiers'  stomachs  always  serve  them  well. 

Count.   With  all  my  heart ;  and  think  me  honoured 
To  feast  so  great  a  warrior  in  my  house.  \Exeunt, 

Scene  IV.  —  London.     Tlie  Temple- Garden. 

Enter  the  Earls  of  Somerset,   Suffolk,   and  Warwick; 
Richard  PL.\NTAGEXEr,^  Vernon,  and  a  Lawyer. 

Plan.  Great  lords  and  gentlemen,  what  means  this  silence  ? 
Dare  no  man  answer  in  a  case  of  truth  ? 

Suf.   Within  the  Temple-hall  we  were  too  loud ; 

1  This  Richard  Plantagenet  was  son  of  the  Elarl  of  Cambridge  who  was 
overtaken  in  a  plot  against  the  life  of  Henry  V.,  and  executed  at  South- 
ampton. That  Earl  was  a  younger  brother  of  Edward,  Duke  of  York,  who 
fell  at  the  battle  of  .Agincourt,  and  had  no  child  to  succeed  him.  So  that 
on  his  father's  side  Richard  was  grandson  to  Edmund  of  Langley,  the  fourth 
son  of  Edward  III.  His  mother  was  -Anne,  sister  of  Edmund  Mortimer, 
Earl  of  March,  and  great-grandaughter  to  Lionel,  Duke  of  Clarence,  who 
was  the  second  son  of  Edward  III.  In  1425,  the  fourth  year  of  Heiury  VI., 
Richard  was  restored  to  the  rights  and  titles  that  had  been  forfeited  by  his 
father,  and  was  made  Duke  of  York.  After  the  death  of  Bedford,  in  1435, 
he  succeeded  him  as  regent  of  France ;  was  recalled  two  years  later,  and 
app>ointed  again  in  1441.  Some  three  years  after,  being  supplanted  in  that 
office  by  his  rival,  the  Duke  of  Somerset,  he  took  the  government  of  Ireland 
instead,  from  whence  he  began  to  stretch  forth  his  hand  to  the  crowTi. 


42  .  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  ii. 

The  garden  here  is  more  convenient. 

Plan.   Then  say  at  once  if  I  maintain'd  the  truth ; 
Or,  else,  was  wrangling  Somerset  in  error  ?  ^ 

Suf.    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. 

Som?   Judge  you,  my  Lord  of  Warwick,  then,  between  us. 

War.^    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  eye  ; 
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. 


2  The  question  is  not  alternative  here,  though  it  has  that  form  ;  else  being 
equivalent  to  or,  in  other  words. 

3  The  Earl  of  Somerset  at  this  time  was  John  Beaufort,  grandson  to 
John  of  Ghent  by  Catharine  Swynford,  and  so  of  course  nephew  to  the 
Duke  of  Exeter  and  the  Bishop  of  Winchester.  He  was  afterwards  ad- 
vanced to  the  rank  of  duke,  and  died  in  1432,  leaving  his  title  to  his  brother 
Edmund ;  his  only  surviving  child  being  Margaret,  who  was  married  to  the 
Earl  of  Richmond,  and  thence  became  the  mother  of  Henry  VH.  So  that 
there  were  two  Dukes  of  Somerset  in  the  time  of  this  play,  though  the  Poet 
does  not  distinguish  them ;  or  rather  he  prolongs  the  life  of  John  several 
years  beyond  its  actual  date. 

*  The  present  Earl  of  Warwick  was  Richard  Beauchamp,  smnamed  the 
Good.  He  was  esteemed  the  greatest  of  the  captains  formed  in  the  great 
school  of  Henry  V.  After  the  death  of  Exeter,  he  was  appointed  governor 
of  the  young  King  in  1426.  When  York  was  first  recalled  from  the  regency 
of  France,  in  1437,  Warwick  succeeded  him,  with  the  title  of  Lieutenant- 
general  and  Governor  of  France,  and  died  at  Rouen  in  May,  1439.  Shake- 
speare, however,  keeps  him  alive  till  the  end  of  the  play,  or  at  least  does  not 
distinguish  him  from  Henry,  who  succeeded  him. 

6  That  is,  regulate  his  motions  most  adroitly.  We  still  say  that  a  horse 
carries  himself  well. 

6  Quillets  are  tricks  of  chicanery,  or  sly  turns  in  argument.  See  vol.  ii. 
page  67,  note  28. 


SCENE  IV.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  43 

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

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

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

Som.    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. 

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

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

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

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

Plan.   And  I. 

Ver.  Then,  for  the  truth  and  plainness  of  the  case, 


■<  Dumb  significants  is  signs  and  tokens ;  language  addressed  to  the  eye. 

8  Colours  is  here  used  equivocally  for  tints  or  hues  and  for  pretences  or 
deceits. 

9  Well  objected  is  aptly  proposed  or  cast  in  our  way.  So  in  Goulart's 
Admirable  Histories,  1607 :  "  Because  Sathan  transfigures  himself  into  an 
angell  of  light,  I  objected  many  and  sundry  questions  to  him." 


44  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  II. 

I  pluck  this  pale  and  maiden  blossom  here, 
Giving  my  verdict  on  the  white-rose  side. 

Som.    Prick  not  your  finger  as  you  pluck  it  off, 
Lest,  bleeding,  you  do  paint  the  white  rose  red. 
And  fall  on  my  side  so,  against  your  will. 

Ver.    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. 

Som.   Well,  well,  come  on  :  who  else  ? 

Law.    \To  Som.]  Unless  my  study  and  my  books  be  false. 
The  argument  you  held  was  wrong  in  you  ; 
In  sign  whereof  I  pluck  a  white  rose  too. 

Plan.    Now,  Somerset,  where  is  your  argument? 

Som.    Here  in  my  scabbard  ;  meditating  that 
Shall  dye  your  white  rose  in  a  bloody  red. 

Plan.    Meantime  your  cheeks  do  counterfeit  our  roses ; 
For  pale  they  look  with  fear,  as  witnessing 
The  truth  on  our  side. 

Som.  No,  Plantagenet, 

'Tis  not  for  fear ;  but  anger  that  thy  cheeks 
Blush  for  pure  shame  to  counterfeit  our  roses,^" 
And  yet  thy  tongue  will  not  confess  thy  error. 

Plan.    Hath  not  thy  rose  a  canker,  Somerset? 

Som.    Hath  not  thy  rose  a  thorn,  Plantagenet? 

Plan.    Ay,  sharp  and  piercing,  to  maintain  his  truth ; 
Whiles  thy  consuming  canker  eats  his  falsehood. 

Som.   Well,  I'll  find  friends  to  wear  my  bleeding  rose, 
That  shall  maintain  what  I  have  said  is  true, 
Where  false  Plantagenet  dare  not  be  seen. 

Plan.    Now,  by  this  maiden  blossom  in  my  hand, 
I  scorn  thee  and  thy  faction,  peevish  boy. 

Suf.   Turn  not  thy  scorns  this  way,  Plantagenet. 

1"  "  It  is  not  for  fear  that  my  cheeks  look  pale,  but  for  anger,  ^ anger 
caused  by  seeing  thy  cheeks  blush,"  &'c. 


SCENE  IV.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  45 

Plan.   Proud  Pole,  I  will ;  and   scorn   both   him   and 
thee. 

Suf.   I'll  turn  my  part  thereof  into  thy  throat. 

Som.   Away,  away,  good  WilUam  de  la  Pole  ! 
We  grace  the  yeoman  by  conversing  with  him. 

War.   Now,  by  God's  will,  thou  wrong'st  him,  Somerset ; 
His  grandfather  was  Lionel  Duke  of  Clarence,ii 
Third  son  to  the  third  Edward  King  of  England  : 
Spring  crestless''^  yeomen  from  so  deep  a  root? 

Plan.    He  bears  him  on  the  place's  privilege,'^ 
Or  durst  not,  for  his  craven  heart,  say  thus. 

Som.   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,  stand'st  not  thou  attainted, 
Corrupted,  and  exempt ^^  from  ancient  gentry? 
His  trespass  yet  lives  guilty  in  thy  blood ; 
And,  till  thou  be  restored,  thou  art  a  yeoman. 

Plan.    My  father  was  attached,  not  attainted ; 
Condemn'd  to  die  for  treason,  but  no  traitor ; 
And  that  I'll  prove  on  better  men  than  Somerset, 
Were  growing  time  once  ripen'd  to  my  \vill. 

11  A  mistake.  Richard's  paternal  grandfather  was  Exjmund  of  Langley, 
Duke  of  York.  His  maternal  grandfather  was  Roger  Mortimer,  Earl  of 
March,  who  was  the  son  of  Philippa,  the  daughter  of  Lionel,  Duke  of 
Clarence. 

12  That  is,  those  who  have  no  right  to  coats-of-arms. 

1*  It  does  not  appear  that  the  Temple  had  any  privilege  of  sanctuary  at 
this  time,  being  then,  as  now,  the  residence  of  law  students.  TTie  author 
might  imagine  it  to  have  derived  some  such  privilege  from  the  knights  tem- 
plars, or  knights  hospitallers,  both  religious  orders,  its  former  inhabitants. 
It  is  true,  blows  may  have  been  prohibited  by  tlie  regulations  of  the  society : 
the  author  perhaps  did  not  much  consider  the  matter,  but  represents  it  as 
suited  his  purpose. 

i*  Exempt  for  excluded.    See  vol.  i.  page  loo,  note  lo. 


46  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  II. 

For  your  partaker  ^^  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  warn'd. 

So7n.   Ah,  thou  shalt  find  us  ready  for  thee  still ; 
And  know  us,  by  these  colours,  for  thy  foes ; 
For  these  my  friends,  in  spite  of  thee,  shall  wear. 

Plan.   And,  by  my  soul,  this  pale  and  angry  rose, 
As  cognizance  ^"^  of  my  blood-drinking  hate, 
Will  I  for  ever,  and  my  faction,  wear. 
Until  it  wither  with  me  to  my  grave, 
Or  flourish  to  the  height  of  my  degree. 

Suf.    Go  forward,  and  be  choked  with  thy  ambition  ! 
And  so,  farewell,  until  I  meet  thee  next.  \_Exit. 

Som.    Have  with  thee,  Pole.  —  Farewell,  ambitious  Rich- 
ard. \^ExiL 

Plan.    How  I  am  braved,  and  must  perforce  endure  it ! 

War.   This  blot,  that  they  object  against  your  House, 
Shall  be  wiped  out  in  the  next  Parliament, 
Call'd  for  the  truce  of  Winchester  and  Gloster  : 
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  wear  this  rose  : 
And  here  I  prophesy,  —  this  brawl  to-day, 

16  Partaker,  in  ancient  language,  signifies  one  who  takes  part  with 
another  ;  an  accomplice,  a  confederate.  So  in  the  50th  Psalm  :  "  When  thou 
sawest  a  thief,  thou  didst  consent  unto  him,  and  hast  been  partaker  with  the 
adulterers." 

16  Apprehension  here  probably  means  sarcasm,  or  insulting  conception  ; 
alluding  to  Somerset's  having  called  him  a.  yeoman.  We  have  a  like  use  of 
the  word  in  Much  Ado,  iii.  4 :  "  How  long  have  you  profess'd  apprehension  f 
See  vol.  iv.  page  214,  note  12. 

17  Cognizance  was  used  for  badge.    An  heraldic  term. 


SCENE  V.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  47 

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. 

Plan.   Good  Master  Vernon,  I  am  bound  to  yoti, 
That  you  on  my  behalf  would  pluck  a  flower. 

Ver.   In  your  behalf  still  will  I  wear  the  same. 

Law.    And  so  will  I. 

Plan.   Thanks,  gentle  sir. 
Come,  let  us  four  to  dinner  :  I  dare  say 
This  quarrel  will  drink  blood  another  day.  \Exeunt. 

Scene  V.  — A  Room  in  the  Tower  of  London. 

Enter  Mortimer,^  brought-in  in  a  chair  by  two  Keepers. 

Mor.    Kind  keepers  of  my  weak  decaying  age, 
Let  dying  Mortimer  here  rest  himself. 
Even  like  a  man  new-haled  from  the  rack, 
So  fare  my  limbs  with  long  imprisonment ; 
And  these  gray  locks,  the  pursuivants  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  — 

1  This  scene  is  at  variance  with  history.  Edmund  Mortimer,  Earl  of 
March,  who  was  trusted  and  employed  by  Henry  V.  throughout  his  reign, 
died  of  the  plague  in  his  own  castle  at  Trim,  in  Ireland,  in  1424;  being  then 
only  thirty-two  years  old.  His  uncle,  Sir  John  Mortimer,  was  indeed  a 
prisoner  in  the  Tower,  and  was  executed  not  long  before  the  Earl  of  March's 
death,  being  charged  with  an  attempt  to  make  his  escape  in  order  to  stir  up 
an  insurrection  in  Wales.  The  Poet  was  led  into  error  by  the  popular  his- 
torians of  his  time.  Hall  relates  that  "The  erle  of  Marche  was  ever  Jupte  in 
the  courU  under  such  a  keeper  that  he  could  neither  do  nor  attempt  any 
th>'ng  agaynste  the  kyng  wythout  his  knowledge,  and  died  without  issue." 

2  The  heralds  that,  forerunning  death,  proclaim  its  approach. 

8  Walker  explains  this,  "  An  old  age  of  ordinary  length,  being  overbur- 
dened with  care,  has  wrought  upon  me  the  effect  of  Nestor's  three  cen* 
turies." 


48  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  II. 

Wax  dim,  as  drawing  to  their  exigent :  "* 

Weak  shoulders,  overborne  with  burdening  grief; 

And  pithless  ^  arms,  like  to  a  wither'd  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  ? 

I  Keep.    Richard  Plantagenet,  my  lord,  will  come  : 
We  sent  unto  the  Temple,  to  his  chamber ; 
And  answer  was  return'd,  that  he  will  come. 

Mor.    Enough  :  my  soul  shall  then  be  satisfied. 
Poor  gentleman  !  his  wrong  doth  equal  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  honour  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. 

I  Keep.    My  lord,  your  loving  nephew  now  is  come. 
Mor.   Richard  Plantagenet,  friend,  is  he  come  ? 


*  Exigent  is  here  put  for  extremity  or  end.  So  in  Doctor  Dodypoll,  1600: 
"  Hath  driven  her  to  some  desperate  exigetit." 

6  Pith  is  used  figuratively  for  strength.  So  in  Othello,  i.  3 :  "  For  since 
these  arms  of  mine  had  seven  years'  pith"  &c. 

6  An  umpire  is  properly  one  who  puts  an  end  to  or  determines  a  con- 
troversy. 


SCENE  V.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  49 

Plan.   Ay,  noble  uncle,  thus  ignobly  used, 
Your  nephew,  late-despised  Richard,  comes. 

Mor.   Direct  mine  arms  I  may  embrace  his  neck. 
And  in  his  bosom  spend  my  letter  gasp  : 
O,  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? 

Plan.    First,  lean  thine  aged  back  against  mine  arm ; 
And,  in  that  ease,  I'll  tell  thee  my  disease."^ 
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  ray  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'  sake,  declare  the  cause 
My  father.  Earl  of  Cambridge,  lost  his  head. 

Mor.   That  cause,  fair  nephew,  that  imprison'd  me, 
And  hath  detain'd  me  all  my  flowering  youth 
Within  a  loathsome  dungeon,  there  to  pine. 
Was  cursed  instrument  of  his  decease. 

Plan.    Discover  more  at  large  what  cause  that  was ; 
For  I  am  ignorant,  and  cannot  guess. 

Mor.    I  will,  if  that  my  failing  breath  pennit. 
And  death  approach  not  ere  my  tale  be  done. 
Henry  the  Fourth,  grandfather  to  this  King, 
Deposed  his  cousin  Richard,  —  Edward's  son. 
The  first-begotten  and  the  lawful  heir 
Of  Edward  King,  the  third  of  that  descent : 

"  Disease  was  used  for  any  uneasiness,  trouble,  or  grief. 


50  THE    FIRST    PART    OF 

During  whose  reign,  the  Percies  of  the  North, 

Finding  his  usurpation  most  unjust, 

Endeavour'd  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  the  Third ;  whereas  he 

From  John  of  Gaunt  doth  bring  his  pedigree. 

Being  but  fourth  of  that  heroic  line. 

But  mark  :  as,  in  this  haughty-great  attempt, 

They  laboured  to  plant  the  rightful  heir, 

I  lost  my  liberty,  and  they  their  lives. 

Long  after  this,  when  Henry  the  Fifth, 

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,  weening  ^  to  redeem 

And  have  install'd  me  in  the  diadem  : 


8  In  a  previous  note,  I  have  spoken  of  Lionel  as  the  second  son  of  Ed- 
ward the  Third,  of  John  of  Ghent  as  the  third,  of  Edmund  of  Langley  as 
i!a&  fourth,  and  of  Thomas  of  Woodstock  as  the  fifth.  And  so  historians 
commonly  speak  of  them.  In  strictness  of  fact,  however,  the  second  son 
was  William  of  Hatfield,  who  died  in  infancy,  and  so  is  commonly  passed 
over  in  history.  Hence  the  seeming  discrepancy  between  the  numbering  in 
my  notes  and  what  is  here  and  in  some  other  places  stated  in  Shakespeare's 
text.  Shakespeare  follows  Holinshed,  who  speaks  more  "  by  the  card  " 
than  is  the  use  of  later  historians. 

9  That  is,  thinking.  This  is  another  departure  from  history.  Cambridge 
levied  no  army;  but  was  apprehended  at  Southampton,  the  night  before 
Henry  sailed  from  that  town  for  France,  on  the  information  of  this  very 
Earl  of  March. 


SCENE  V.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  51 

But,  as  the  rest,  so  fell  that  noble  earl, 
And  was  beheaded.     Thus  the  Mortimers, 
In  whom  the  title  rested,  were  suppress'd. 

Plan.    Of  which,  my  lord,  your  Honour  is  the  last. 

Mor.   True  ;  and  thou  see'st  that  I  no  issue  have, 
And  that  my  fainting  words  do  warrant  death  : 
Thou  art  my  heir ;  the  rest  I  wish  thee  gather :  i° 
But  yet  be  wary  in  thy  studious  care. 

Plan.   Thy  grave  admonishments  prevail  with  me  : 
But  yet,  methinks,  my  father's  execution 
Was  nothing  less  than  bloody  tyranny. 

Mor.    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  cloy'd 
With  long  continuance  in  a  settled  place. 

Plan.    O,  uncle,  would  some  part  of  my  young  years 
Might  but  redeem  the  passage  of  your  age  ! 

Mor.   Thou  dost,  then,  wTong  me,  as  that  slaughter  doth 
^^^^ich  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  be  all  thy  hopes. 
And  prosperous  be  thy  life  in  peace  and  war  !  \_Dies. 

Plan.   And  peace,  no  war,  befall  thy  parting  soul ! 
In  prison  hast  thou  spent  a  pilgrimage. 
And  like  a  hermit  overpass'd  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 


10  Meaning  "  I  wish  you  to  infer  the  legal  conseqiunces  of  this  my  be- 
quest, or  the  rights  that  justly  fall  to  you  as  my  heir." 


C2  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  III. 

Will  see  his  burial  better  than  his  life.  — 

\Exeunt  Keepers,  bearing  out  the  body  of  Mortimer. 
Here  dies  the  dusky  torch  of  Mortimer, 
Choked  with  ambition  of  the  meaner  sort :  i^ 
And  for  those  wrongs,  those  bitter  injuries, 
Which  Somerset  hath  offer'd  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  th'  advantage  ^^  of  my  good.  \Exit. 


ACT  ni. 

Scene  I.  —  London.     The  Parliament-House. 

Flourish.  Enter  King  Henry,  Exeter,  Gloster,  Warwick, 
Somerset,  and  Suffolk  ;  The  Bishop  of  Winchester, 
Richard  Plantagenet,  and  others.  Gloster  offers  to  put 
up  a  bill ;  ^  Winchester  snatches  it,  and  tears  it. 

Win.    Comest  thou  with  deep-premeditated  lines. 
With  written  pamphlets  studiously  devised, 
Humphrey  of  Gloster  ?     If  thou  canst  accuse, 
Or  aught  intend'st  to  lay  unto  my  charge, 

11  That  is,  oppressed  by  those  who  were  of  lower  rank,  or  whose  right  to 
the  crown  was  not  so  good  as  his. 

12  My  ill  is  here  the  wrong  done  to  me.  Advantage  in  the  sense  of 
occasion  or  vantage-ground. 

1  Bill  is  the  articles  of  accusation.  —  This  Parliament  was  held  in  1426 
at  Leicester,  though  here  represented  to  have  been  held  in  London.  King 
Henry  was  now  in  the  fifth  year  of  his  age.  In  the  first  Parliament,  which 
was  held  at  London  shortly  after  his  father's  death,  his  mother,  Queen 
Catharine,  brought  the  young  King  from  Windsor  to  the  metropolis,  and 
sat  on  the  throne  with  the  infant  in  her  lap. 


SCENE  1.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  53 

Do  it  without  invention,  suddenly ; 

As  I  with  sudden  and  extemporal  speech 

Purpose  to  answer  what  thou  canst  object. 

Glo.    Presumptuous   priest !    this    place    commands    my 
patience, 
Or  thou  shouldst  find  thou  hast  dishonour'd  me. 
Think  not,  although  in  writing  I  preferr'd 
The  manner  of  thy  vile  outrageous  crimes, 
That  therefore  I  have  forged,  or  am  not  able 
Ver/>atim  to  rehearse  the  method  of  my  pen  : 
No,  prelate  ;  such  is  thy  audacious  wickedness, 
Thy  lewd,  pestiferous,  and  dissentious  pranks, 
As  2  very  infants  prattle  of  thy  pride. 
Thou  art  a  most  pernicious  usurer ; 
Froward  by  nature,  enemy  to  i)eace ; 
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  as  at  the  Tower? 
Besides,  I  fear  me,  if  thy  tTioughts  were  sifted, 
The  King,  thy  sovereign,  is  not  quite  exempt 
From  envious  malice  of  thy  swelling  heart. 

Win.    Gloster,  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? 
Or  how  haps  it  I  seek  not  to  advance 
Or  raise  myself,  but  keep  my  wonted  calling? 
And,  for  dissension,  who  preferreth  peace 
More  than  I  do,  except  I  be  provoked? 
No,  my  good  lords,  it  is  not  that  offends ; 

'  As  and  that,  both  pronoun  and  conjunction,  were  used  indiscrimiiuMely 
by  all  the  writers  of  Shakespeare's  time. 


54  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  III. 

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  — 

Glo.  As  good  ! 

Thou  bastard  of  my  grandfather  ! 

Win.    Ay,  lordly  sir ;  for  what  are  you,  I  pray. 
But  one  imperious  in  another's  throne  ? 

Glo.    Am  I  not  Lord  Protector,  saucy  priest? 

Win.    And  am  not  I  a  prelate  of  the  Church  ? 

Glo.   Yes,  as  an  outlaw  in  a  castle  keeps,^ 
And  useth  it  to  patronage  his  theft. 

Win.   Unreverent  Gloster  ! 

Glo.  Thou  art  reverend 

Touching  thy  spiritual  function,  not  thy  life. 

Win.    This  Rome  shall  remedy. 

War.  Roam  ^  thither,  then. 

Soni.    My  lord,  it  were  your  duty  to  forbear. 

War.   Ay,  see  the  bishop  be  not  overborne. 

Som.    Methinks  my  lord  should  be  religious, 
And  know  the  office  that  belongs  to  such. 

War.    Methinks  his  lordship  should  be  humbler; 
It  fitteth  not  a  prelate  so  to  plead. 

Som.   Yes,  when  his  holy  state  is  touch'd  so  near. 

8  Because  is  here  equivalent  to  in  order  that.  So  in  St.  Matthew,  xx.  31 : 
"  And  the  multitude  rebuked  X\\ql\x\,  because  they  should  hold  their  peace." 
Also  in  Bacon's  Henry  the  Seventh  :  "  The  King  began  then  to  pare  a  little 
the  privilege  of  the  clergy,  ordaining  that  clerks  convict  should  be  burned 
in  the  hand,  both  because  they  might  taste  some  corporal  punishment  and 
tliat  they  might  carry  a  brand  of  infamy." 

*  Keeps  for  dwells.    Often  so.    See  vol.  iii.  page  182,  note  2. 

5  So  Nash,  in  his  Lenten  Stuff,  1599 :  "  Three  hundred  thousand  people 
roamed  to  Rome  for  purgatorie  pills." 


SCfcHE  1.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  55 

IVar.    State  holy  or  unhallow'd,  what  of  that? 
Is  not  his  Grace  protector  to  the  King? 

F/an.    \_Asufg.'\   Plantagenet,  I  see,  must  hold  his  tongue, 
Lest  it  be  said.  Speak,  sirrah,  when  you  should; 
Must  your  bold  verdict  enter  talk  with  lords  ? 
Else  would  I  have  a  fling  at  Winchester. 

King.   Uncles  of  Gloster  and  of  Winchester, 
The  special  watchmen  of  our  English  weal, 
I  would  prevail,  if  prayers  might  prevail. 
To  join  your  hearts  in  love  and  amity. 
O,  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 
CiNnl  dissension  is  a  viperous  worm 
That  gnaws  the  bowels  of  the  commonwealth.  — 

\A  noise  within,  Down  with  the  tawny-coats  ! 
WTiat  tumult's  this? 

War.  An  uproar,  I  dare  warrant. 

Begun  through  malice  of  the  bishop's  men. 

\^A  noise  again  within.  Stones  !  stones  ! 

Enter  tht  Mayor  of  London,  attended. 

May.    O,  my  good  lords,  —  and  virtuous  Henry,  — 
Pity  the  city  of  London,  pity  us  ! 
The  bishop's  and  the  Duke  of  Gloster's  men. 
Forbidden  late  to  carrj'  any  weapon. 
Have  fill'd  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  knock'd  out : 
Our  windows  are  broke  down  in  ever)'  street. 
And  we,  for  fear,  compell'd  to  shut  our  shops. 


56  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  III. 

Enter,  skirmishing,  the  Serving-men  of  Gloster  and  Win- 
chester with  bloody  pates. 

King.   We  charge  you,  on  allegiance  to  ourself, 
To  hold  your  slaughtering  hands  and  keep  the  peace.  — 
Pray,  uncle  Gloster,  mitigate  this  strife. 

1  Serv.    Nay,  if  we  be 

Forbidden  stones,  we'll  fall  to't  with  our  teeth. 

2  Serv.   Do  what  ye  dare,  we  are  as  resolute. 

\_Skirmish  again. 

Glo.   You  of  my  household,  leave  this  peevish  broil, 
And  set  this  unaccustom'd  fight  aside. 

J  Serv.    My  lord,  we  know  your  Grace  to  be  a  man 
Just  and  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  commonweal. 
To  be  disgraced  by  an  inkhorn  ^  mate, 
We,  and  our  wives,  and  children,  all  will  fight, 
And  leave  our  bodies  slaughter'd  by  thy  foes. 

I  Serv.    Ay,  and  the  very  parings  of  our  nails 
Shall  pitch  a  field  when  we  are  dead.  \_Skirmish  again. 

Glo.  Stay,  stay,  I  say  ! 

An  if  you  love  me,  as  you  say  you  do. 
Let  me  persuade  you  to  forbear  awhile. 

King.    O,  how  this  discord  doth  afi^ict  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  ? 

War.    My  Lord  Protector,  yield  ;  —  yield,  Winchester ;  — ■ 

6  That  is,  a  bookish  person,  a  pedant,  applied  in  contempt  to  a  scholar. 
Inkhornisms  and  inkhorn-terms  were  common  expressions. 


SCENE  I.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  5/ 

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  ye  thirst  for  blood. 

IVin.    He  shall  submit,  or  I  will  never  yield. 

G/o.   Compassion  on  the  King  commands  me  stoop  ; 
Or  I  would  see  his  heart  out,  ere  the  priest 
Should  ever  get  that  privilege  of  me. 

IFar.    Behold,  my  Lord  of  Winchester,  the  duke 
Hath  banish'd  moody  discontented  fury, 
As  by  his  smoothed  brows  it  doth  appear : 
Why  look  you  still  so  stem  and  tragical  ? 

G/o.    Here,  Winchester,  I  offer  thee  my  hand. 

-K'ing.    Fie,  uncle  Beaufort !  I  have  heard  you  preach 
That  malice  was  a  great  and  grievous  sin  ; 
And  will  not  you  maintain  the  thing  you  teach, 
But  prove  a  chief  offender  in  the  same? 

JVar.    Sweet  King  !  the  bishop  hath  a  kindly  gird.'  — 
For  shame,  my  Lord  of  Winchester,  relent ! 
^Vhat,  shall  a  child  instruct  you  what  to  do  ? 

Win.   Well,  Duke  of  Gloster,  I  will  yield  to  thee ; 
Love  for  thy  love,  and  hand  for  hand  I  give. 

GAk    \^Aside.']  Ay,  but,  I  fear  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  dissemble  not  ! 

Win.    \_Aside.~\  So  help  me  God,  as  I  intend  it  not ! 

King.   O  loving  uncle,  kind  Duke  of  Gloucester, 

"^  A  gird  is  a  cutting'  reply,  a  sarcasm,  or  a  stinging  speech.  See  vol.  Ji. 
page  236,  note  7.  —  Kindly,  here,  is  natural,  characteristic,  or  suited  to  Ais 
nature.  So  the  Poet  often  uses  kind  and  its  derivatives  in  the  radical  sense 
qi nature.     See  vol.  iiL  page  131,  note  15  ;  als3  vol.  iv.  page  220,  note  i. 


58  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  III. 

How  joyful  am  I  made  by  this  contrdct !  — 

Away,  my  masters  !  trouble  us  no  more  ; 

But  join  in  friendship,  as  your  lords  have  done. 

/  Serv.    Content :  I'll  to  the  surgeon's. 

2  Serv.  And  so  will  I. 

J  Serv.    And  I  will  see  what  physic  the  tavern  affords. 

\_Exeunt  Serving-men,  Mayor,  &=€. 
War.    Accept  this  scroll,  most  gracious  sovereign. 
Which  in  the  right  of  Richard  Plantagenet 
We  do  exhibit  to  your  Majesty. 

Glo.   Well   urged,   my   Lord   of  Warwick :  —  for,    sweet 
Prince, 
An  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. 

King.    And  those  occasions,  uncle,  were  of  force  : 
Therefore,  my  loving  lords,  our  pleasure  is. 
That  Richard  be  restored  to  his  blood. 

War.    Let  Richard  be  restored  to  his  blood ; 
So  shall  his  father's  wrongs  be  recompensed. 

Win.   As  will  the  rest,  so  willeth  Winchester. 

King.    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. 

Plan.   Thy  humble  servant  vows  obedience 
And  faithful  service  till  the  point  of  death. 

King.    Stoop,  then,  and  set  your  knee  against  my  foot ; 
And,  in  reguerdon  ^  of  that  duty  done, 
I  girt  thee  with  the  valiant  sword  of  York  : 
Rise,  Richard,  like  a  true  Plantagenet, 

8  Reguerdon  is  recompense  or  reward. 


SCENE  I.  KING    HfeNRY    THE    SIXTH.  59 

And  rise  created  princely  Duke  of  York. 

Plan.    And  so  thrive  Richard  S&  thy  foes  may  fall ! 
And  as  my  duty  springs,  so  perish  they 
That  grudge  one  thought  against  your  Majest}* ! 

AU.   Welcome,  high  prince,  the  mighty  Duke  of  York  ! 

Som.  \A5ide^  Perish,  base  prince,  ignoble  Duke  of  York  ! 

Glo.   Now  will  it  best  avail  your  Majesty 
To  cross  the  seas,  and  to  be  crown'd  in  France  : 
The  presence  of  a  King  engenders  love 
Amongst  his  subjects  and  his  loyal  friends. 
As  it  disanimates  his  enemies. 

King.   When  Gloster  says  the  word,  King  Henn,-  goes ; 
For  friendly  counsel  cuts  off  many  foes. 

Glo.   Your  ships  already  are  in  readiness. 

{^Flourish.    Exeunt  all  but  Exeter. 

Exe.   Ay,  we  may  march  in  England  or  in  France, 
Not  seeing  what  is  likely  to  ensue. 
This  late  dissension  grown  betwixt  the  peers 
Burns  under  feigned  ashes  of  forged  love. 
And  will  at  last  break  out  into  a  flame  : 
As  fester'd  members  rot  but  by  degrees. 
Till  bones  and  flesh  and  sinews  fall  away. 
So  will  this  base  and  envious  discord  breed.^ 
And  now  I  fear  that  fatal  prophecy 
^\^lich  in  the  time  of  Henry  named  the  Fifth 
Was  in  the  mouth  of  every  sucking  babe, 
That  Henry  bom  at  Monmouth  should  win  all. 
And  Henry  bom  at  Windsor  should  lose  all : 
Which  is  so  plain,  that  Exeter  doth  wish 
His  days  may  finish  ere  that  hapless  time.  \^Exit. 


9  So  will  this  malignant  discord  propagate  itself.    Envious,  as  usual,  in 
the  sense  of  malicious. 


6o  THE    FIRST   PART   OF 


Scene   II.  —  France.     Before  Rouen. 

Enter   La   Pucelle   disguised,    and  Soldiers   dressed  like 
Countrymen,  with  sacks  upon  their  backs. 

Puc.   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  market-men 
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, 
I'll  by  a  sign  give  notice  to  our  friends. 
That  Charles  the  Dauphin  may  encounter  them. 

I  Sol.    Our  sacks  shall  be  a  mean  to  sack  the  city. 
And  we  be  lords  and  rulers  over  Rouen  ; 
Therefore  we'll  knock.  \_Knocks. 

Guard.    [Within.]     Qui  va  la  ? 

Puc.    Paysans,  pauvres  gens  de  France,  — 
Poor  market-folks,  that  come  to  sell  their  corn. 

Guard.    \_Opening  the  gates.']    Enter,  go  in;  the  market- 
bell  is  rang. 

Puc.    Now,  Rouen, •  I'll  shake  thy  bulwarks  to  the  ground. 
[La  Pucelle,  ^t'c,  enter  the  to7vn. 

Enter  Charles,  the  Bastard  of  Orleans,  Alencon,  Reignier, 
and  Forces. 

Char.    Saint  Denis  bless  this  happy  stratagem  ! 
And  once  again  we'll  sleep  secure  in  Rouen. 

Bast.    Here  enter'd  Pucelle  and  her  practisants  ;  ^ 
Now  she  is  there,  how  will  she  specify 

1  Rouen  was  anciently  written  and  pronounced  Roan. 

2  Practice,  in  the  language  of  the  time,  was  treachery,  or  insidious  strat- 
agem.    Practisants  are  therefore  confederates  in  treachery. 


SCENE  a.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  6l 

Where  is  the  best  and  safest  passage  in? 

Reig.    By  thrusting  out  a  torch  from  yonder  tower ; 
Which,  once  discem'd,  shows  that  her  meaning  is, 
No  way  to  that,-'  for  weakness,  which  she  enter'd. 
Enter   La   Pucelle  on   a  battlement,  holding  out  a  torch 
burning. 

Piic.    Behold,  this  is  the  happy  wedding-torch 
That  joineth  Rouen  unto  her  countrymen. 
But  burning  fatal  to  the  Talbotites. 

Bast.   See,  noble  Charles,  the  beacon  of  our  firiend ; 
The  burning  torch  in  yonder  turret  stands. 

Char.    Now  shine  it  like  a  comet  of  revenge, 
A  prophet  to  the  fall  of  all  our  foes  ! 

Reig.    Defer  no  time,  delays  have  dangerous  ends ; 
Enter,  and  cry  The  Dauphin  !  presently, 
And  then  do  execution  on  the  watch. 

\They  enter  the  town.     Exit  La  Pucelle  above. 
Alarums.      Enter,  from    the    town,   Talbot   and  English 
Soldiers. 

Tal.    France,  thou  shalt  rue  this  treason  with  thy  tears, 
If  Talbot  but  survive  thy  treachery.  — 
Pucelle,  that  witch,  that  damned  sorceress, 
Hath  wrought  this  hellish  mischief  unawares. 
That  hardly  we  escaped  the  pride  ^  of  France. 

\Exeunt  into  the  town. 

3  That  is,  no  way  like  or  compared  to  that. 

■«  Pride  here  signifies  haughty  power.  So,  afterwards,  in  iv.  6 :  "  And 
from  the  pride  ol  Gallia  rescued  thee."— The  general  sentiment  of  the 
English  respecting  Joan  of  Arc  is  very  well  shown  in  that  the  regent,  soon 
after  the  coronation  at  Rheims,  wrote  to  Charles  VII.,  complaining  that 
"  he  had,  by  the  allurement  of  a  develish  witch,  taken  upon  him  the  name, 
title,  and  dignitie  of  the  King  of  France,"  and  challenging  him  to  a  trial  of 
the  question  by  private  combat.  Divers  other  choice  vituperative  epithets 
are  stuck  upon  the  heroic  maiden  by  the  old  chroniclers,  such  as  "  false 
miscreant,"  and  "  damnable  sorcerer." 


62  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  ill. 

Alarums :  excursions.  Enter,  from  the  town,  Bedford, 
brought  in  sick  in  a  chair,  with  Talbot,  Burgundy,  and 
the  English  Eorces.  Then  enter  on  the  walls  La  Pucelle, 
Charles,  the  Bastard  of  Orleans,  Alenqon  and  Reignier. 

Fuc.    Good  morrow,  gallants  !  want  ye  corn  for  bread  ? 
I  think  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  will  fast. 
Before  he'll  buy  again  at  such  a  rate  : 
'Twas  full  of  darnel ;  ^  —  do  you  like  the  taste  ? 

Bur.    Scofif  on,  vile  fiend  and  shameless  courtezan  ! 
I  trust  ere  long  to  choke  thee  with  thine  own, 
And  make  thee  curse  the  harvest  of  that  corn. 

Char.   Your  Grace  may  starve,  perhaps,  before  that  time. 

Bed.    O,  let  no  words,  but  deeds,  revenge  this  treason  ! 

Fuc.   What  will  you  do,  good  graybeard  ?  break  a  lance, 
And  run  a  tilt  at  death  within  a  chair? 

Tal.    Foul  fiend  of  France,  and  hag  of  all  despite, 
Encompass'd  with  thy  lustful  paramours  ! 
Becomes  it  thee  to  taunt  his  valiant  age. 
And  twit  with  cowardice  a  man  half  dead  ? 
Damsel,  I'll  have  a  bout  with  you  again. 
Or  else  let  Talbot  perish  with  this  shame. 

Fuc.    Are  ye  so  hot,  sir  ?  —  yet,  Pucelle,  hold  thy  peace  ; 
If  Talbot  do  but  thunder,  rain  will  follow.  — 

[Talbot  and  the  rest  whisper  together  in  council. 
God  speed  the  parliament !  who  shall  be  the  speaker? 

Tal.    Dare  ye  come  forth  and  meet  us  in  the  field? 

Fuc.    Belike  your  lordship  takes  us,  then,  for  fools, 
To  try  if  that  our  own  be  ours  or  no. 

Tal.    I  speak  not  to  that  raihng  Hecate, 

5  "  Darnel,"  says  Gerarde  in  his  Herbal,  "  hurteth  the  eyes,  and  maketh 
them  dim,  if  it  happen  either  in  come  for  breade,  or  drinke."  La  Pucelle 
means  to  intimate  that  the  corn  she  carried  with  her  had  produced  the  same 
effect  on  the  guards  of  Rouen  ;  otherwise  they  would  have  seen  through  her 
disguise,  and  defeated  her  stratagem. 


SCENE  II.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  63 

But  unto  thee,  Alengon,  and  the  rest : 
Will  ye,  like  soldiers,  come  and  fight  it  out  ? 

Alen.    Signior,  no. 

Ta/.    Signior,  hang  !  —  base  muleteers  of  France  ! 
Like  peasant  foot-boys  do  they  keep  the  walls, 
And  dare  not  take  up  arms  like  gentlemen. 

Puc.    Captains,  away  !  let's  get  us  from  the  walls ; 
For  Talbot  means  no  goodness  by  his  looks.  — 
God  b'  wi',  my  lord  !  we  came  up  but  to  tell  you 
That  we  are  here.     \_Exeunf  La.  Pucelle,  &'c.,from  the  walls. 

Tal.   And  there  will  we  be  too,  ere  it  be  long, 
Or  else  reproach  be  Talbot's  greatest  fame  !  — 
Vow,  Burgundy,  by  honour  of  thy  House  — 
Prick'd  on  by  public  wrongs  sustain'd  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  to\vn 
Great  Coeur-de-lion's  heart  was  buried,  — 
So  sure  I  swear  to  get  the  town  or  die. 

Bur.    My  vows  are  equal  partners  with  thy  vows. 

Tal.    But,  ere  we  go,  regard  this  dying  prince. 
The  valiant  Duke  of  Bedford.  —  Come,  my  lord. 
We  \viU  bestow  you  in  some  better  place. 
Fitter  for  sickness  and  for  crazy  age. 

Bed.   Lord  Talbot,  do  not  so  dishonour  me : 
Here  will  I  sit  before  the  walls  of  Rouen, 
And  will  be  partner  of  your  weal  or  woe. 

Bur.   Courageous  Bedford,  let  us  now  persuade  you. 

Bed.    Not  to  be  gone  from  hence  ;  for  once  I  read, 
That  stout  Pendragon,  in  his  litter,  sick. 
Came  to  the  field,  and  vanquished  his  foes  : 
Methinks  I  should  revive  the  soldiers'  hearts. 
Because  I  ever  found  them  as  myself. 


64  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  III. 

Tal.    Undaunted  spirit  in  a  dying  breast !  — 
Then  be  it  so  :  Heavens  keep  old  Bedford  safe  !  — 
And  now  no  more  ado,  brave  Burgundy, 
But  gather  we  our  forces  out  of  hand, 
And  set  upon  our  boasting  enemy. 

\Exeu7it,  into  the  town,  Burgundy,  Talbot,  and 
Forces,  leaving  Bedford  and  others. 

Alarums :  excursions  ;  in  one  of  7uhich,  enter  Sir  John  Fas- 
TOLFE  and  a  Captain. 

Cap.    Whither  away,  Sir  John  Fastolfe,  in  such  haste  ? 
Fast.   Whither  away  !  to  save  myself  by  flight : 
We're  like  to  have  the  overthrow  again. 

Cap.   What !  will  you  fly,  and  leave  Lord  Talbot  ? 

Fast.    Ay,  all  the  Talbots  in  the  world,  to  save  my  life.  \_Exit. 

Cap.   Cowardly  knight !  ill  fortune  follow  thee  ! 

S^Exit  i?ito  the  town. 

Retreat:  excursions.     Re-enter,  from  the  town,  La  Pucelle, 
ALENgoN,  Charles,  ^'c,  and  exeunt  flying. 

Bed.    Now,  quiet  soul,  depart  when  Heaven  please. 
For  I  have  seen  our  enemies'  overthrow. 
What  is  the  trust  or  strength  of  foolish  man  ? 
They  that  of  late  were  daring  with  their  scoffs 
Are  glad  and  fain  by  flight  to  save  themselves. 

\_Dies,  and  is  carried  off  in  his  chair. 

/     Alarums.     Re-enter  Talbot,  Burgundy,  and  others. 

Tal.    Lost  and  recover 'd  in  a  day  again  ! 
This  is  a  double  honour,  Burgundy  : 
Let  Heavens  have  glory  for  this  victory  ! 

Bur.   Warlike  and  martial  Talbot,  Burgundy 
Enshrines  thee  in  his  heart,  and  there  erects 
Thy  noble  deeds,  as  valour's  monuments. 


SCENE  III.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  6$ 

Tal.   Thanks,  gende  duke.     But  where  is  Pucelle  now  ? 
I  think  her  old  familiar  ^  is  asleep  : 

Now  where's  the  Bastard's  braves,  and  Charles  his  gleeks  ?  ' 
What,  all  amort  ?  ^     Rouen  hangs  her  head  for  grief, 
That  such  a  valiant  company  are  fled. 
Now  will  we  take  some  order  in  the  town, 
Placing  therein  some  expert  officers  ; 
And  then  depart  to  Paris  to  the  King, 
For  there  young  Henry  with  his  nobles  lie. 

Bur.    What  wills  Lord  Talbot  pleaseth  Burgundy. 

Tal.    But  yet,  before  we  go,  let's  not  forget 
The  noble  Duke  of  Bedford  late  deceased. 
But  see  his  exequies  fulfiU'd  in  Rouen : 
A  braver  soldier  never  couched  lance, 
A  gender  heart  did  never  sway  in  Court : 
But  kings  and  mightiest  potentates  must  die. 
For  that's  the  end  of  human  misery.  \Exeuni. 

Scene  III.  —  The  Plains  near  Rouen. 

Enter  Charles,  the  Bastard  of  Orleans,  Alencon,  La  Pu- 
celle, and  Forces. 

Puc.    Dismay  not,  princes,  at  this  accident. 
Nor  grieve  that  Rouen  is  so  recovered  : 
Care  is  no  cure,  but  rather  c6rrosive. 
For  things  that  are  not  to  be  remedied. 
Let  frantic  Talbot  triumph  for  a  while. 
And  like  a  peacock  sweep  along  his  tail ; 

^  A  familiar -was  the  common  attendant  of  a  witch,  and  was  generally 
an  evil  spirit  disguised  in  the  form  of  a  cat,  dog,  or  some  other  animal. 
See  Macbeth,  \.  i,  note  2. 

■^  Charles  his  is  the  old  usage  for  Charles's.  —  Gleeks  is  scoffs,  mocks,  or 
^ibes.    See  vol.  iii.  page  45,  note  11. 

8  Quite  cast  down  or  dispirited ;  the  same  as  mortified. 


66  THE    FIRST    PART    OF 


ACT  III. 


We'll  pull  his  plumes,  and  take  away  his  train, 
If  Dauphin  and  the  rest  will  be  but  ruled. 

CAar.   We  have  been  guided  by  thee  hitherto, 
And  of  thy  cunning  had  no  diffidence  : 
One  sudden  foil  shall  never  breed  distrust. 

Bas^.   Search  out  thy  wit  for  secret  policies. 
And  we  will  make  thee  famous  through  the  world. 

A/en.   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. 

Puc.   Then  thus  it  must  be  ;  this  doth  Joan  devise  : 
By  fair  persuasions,  mix'd  with  sugar'd  words. 
We  will  entice  the  Duke  of  Burgundy 
To  leave  the  Talbot  and  to  follow  us. 

C/iar.    Ay,  marry,  sweeting,  if  we  could  do  that, 
France  were  no  place  for  Henry's  warriors  ; 
Nor  should  that  nation  boast  it  so  with  us, 
But  be  extirped  '  from  our  provinces. 

A/en.    For  ever  should  they  be  expulsed  from  France, 
And  not  have  title  of  an  earldom  here. 

P//e.    Your  Honours  shall  perceive  how  I  will  work 
To  bring  this  matter  to  the  wished  end.  [Vmms  Jieard. 

Hark  !  by  the  sound  of  drum  you  may  perceive 
Their  powers  are  marching  unto  Paris-ward. 

An  Eng/ish   march.     Enter,  and  pass  over  at  a  distance, 
Talbot  and  his  Forces. 

There  goes  the  Talbot,  with  his  colours  spread. 
And  all  the  troops  of  English  after  him. 

A  Frenc/i  niarc/i.     Enter  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  and  his 
Forces. 

Now  in  the  rearward  comes  the  duke  and  his  : 

1  Extirped  is  but  another  form  ai  extirpated ;  rooted  out. 


SCENE  III.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  6/ 

Fortune  in  favour  makes  him  lag  behind- 
Summon  a  parley ;  we  will  talk  with  him. 

\Trumpets  sound  a  parley. 

Char.   A  parley  with  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  ! 

Bur.   Who  craves  a  parley  with  the  Burgundy  ? 

Puc.   The  princely  Charles  of  France,  thy  countryman. 

Bur.   What  say'st  thou,  Charles  ?  for  I  am  marching  hence. 

Char.    Speak,  Pucelle,  and  enchant  him  with  thy  words. 

Puc.    Brave  Burgundy,  undoubted  hope  of  France  ! 
Stay,  let  thy  humble  handmaid  speak  to  thee. 

Bur.    Speak  on  ;  but  be  not  over-tedious. 

Puc.    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  lovely  babe 
When  death  doth  close  his  tender  dying  eyes. 
See,  see  the  pining  malady  of  France  ; 
Behold  the  wounds,  the  most  unnatural  wounds. 
Which  thou  thyself  hast  given  her  woeful  breast ! 
O,  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  coimtry's  stained  spots. 

Bur.    \_Aside^    Either   she   hath  bewitch'd  me  with  her 
words. 
Or  nature  makes  me  suddenly  relent. 

Puc.   Besides,  all  French  and  France  exclaim  on  thee, 
Doubting  thy  birth  and  lawful  progeny. 
\\1io  join'st  thou  with,  but  with  a  lordly  nation. 
That  will  not  trust  thee  but  for  profit's  sake  ? 
\Vhen  Talbot  hath  set  footing  once  in  France, 
And  fashion'd  thee  that  instrument  of  ill, 


68  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  in. 

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  Orleans  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,  thou  fight'st  against  thy  countrymen. 

And  join'st  with  them  will  be  thy  slaughter-men. 

Come,  come,  return ;  return,  thou  wandering  lord  ; 

Charles  and  the  rest  will  take  thee  in  their  arms. 

Bur.    \_Aside7\  I'm  vanquished  ;  these  haughty  ^  words  of 
hers 
Have  batter'd  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. 

Puc.    Done  like  a  Frenchman,^  —  \_Asider\  turn,  and  turn 
again  ! 

Char.   Welcome,  brave    duke  !  thy  friendship   makes  us 
fresh. 

Bast.    And  doth  beget  new  courage  in  our  breasts. 

Alen.    Pucelle  hath  bravely  play'd  her  part  in  this, 
And  doth  deserve  a  coronet  of  gold. 

Char.    Now  let  us  on,  my  lords,  and  join  our  powers  ; 
And  seek  how  we  may  prejudice  the  foe.  [^Exeunt. 

2  Haughty  in  a  good  sense,  for  lofiy  or  high-spirited.  The  usage  was 
common. 

3  The  inconstancy  of  the  French  was  always  a  subject  of  satire.  "  I 
have  read,"  says  Johnson,  "  a  dissertation  written  to  prove  that  the  index 
of  the  wind  upon  our  steeples  was  made  in  form  of  a  cock  to  ridicule  the 
French  for  their  frequent  changes." 


SCENE  IV.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH,  69 


Scene  IV.  —  Paris.     A  Room  in  the  Palace. 

Enter  King  Henry,  Gloster,  Winchester,  York,  Suffolk, 
Somerset,  Warwick,  Exeter,  Vernon,  Basset,  ^c.  To 
them  Talbot  and  some  of  his  Officers. 

Tal.    My  gracious  Prince,  —  and  honourable  peers,  — 
Hearing  of  your  arrival  in  this  realm, 
I  have  awhile  given  truce  unto  my  wars, 
To  do  my  duty  to  my  sovereign  : 
In  sign  whereof,  this  arm  —  that  hath  reclaim'd 
To  your  obedience  fifty  fortresses. 
Twelve  cities,  and  seven  walled  towns  of  strength. 
Besides  five  hundred  prisoners  of  esteem  — 
Lets  fall  his  sword  before  your  Highness'  feet,         \_KneeUng. 
And  with  submissive  loyalty  of  heart 
Ascribes  the  glory  of  his  conquest  got 
First  to  my  God,  and  next  unto  your  Grace. 

King.   Is  this  Lord  Talbot,  uncle  Gloucester, 
That  hath  so  long  been  resident  in  France  ? 

Glo.   Yes,  if  it  please  your  Majesty,  my  liege. 

King.   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  reguerdon'd  with  so  much  as  thanks, 
Because  till  now  we  never  saw  your  face  : 
Therefore  stand  up  ;  and,  for  these  good  deserts, 

1  Malone  remarks  that  "  Henry  was  but  nine  months  old  when  his  fether 
died,  and  never  saw  him." 

'  Reiolved,  a^in,  for  assured  or  convinced.    See  page  18,  note  9. 


70  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  III. 

We  here  create  you  Earl  of  Shrewsbury ; 
And  in  our  coronation  take  your  place. 

\_Flourish.     Exeunt  all  but  Vernon  and  Basset. 

Ver.    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, 
Barest  thou  maintain  the  former  words  thou  spakest? 

Bas.   Yes,  sir ;  as  well  as  you  dare  patronage 
The  envious  barking  of  your  saucy  tongue 
Against  my  lord  the  Duke  of  Somerset. 

Vei:    Sirrah,  thy  lord  I  honour  as  he  is. 

Bas.   Wliy,  what  is  he  ?  as  good  a  man  as  York. 

Ver.    Hark  ye  ;  not  so  :  in  witness,  take  ye  that. 

\Strikes  him. 

Bas.    Villain,  thou  know'st  the  law  of  arms  is  such, 
That  whoso  draws  a  sword,  'tis  present  death/ 
Or  else  this  blow  should  broach  thy  dearest  blood. 
But  I'll  unto  his  Majesty,  and  crave 
I  may  have  liberty  to  venge  this  wrong ; 
When  thou  shalt  see  I'll  meet  thee  to  thy  cost. 

Ver.   Well,  miscreant,  I'll  be  there  as  soon  as  you  ; 
And,  after,  meet  you  sooner  than  you  would.  \_Exeunt. 

3  Tliat  is,  the  badge  of  a  rose. 

4  By  the  ancient  X&w,  fighting  in  the  King's  palace  or  before  the  King's 
\\xdigcs,  \\2&  punished  with  death.  And  still  malicious  striking  in  the  King's 
palace,  whereby  blood  is  drawn,  is  punishable  by  perpetual  imprisonment, 
and  fine  at  the  King's  pleasure,  and  also  with  loss  of  the  offender's  right 
hand. 


SCENE  I.  KING    HENRY    THE   SIXTH.  71 


ACT  IV. 

Scene  I.  —  Paris.    A  Room  of  State  in  the  Palace. 

Enter  King  Henry,  Gloster,  Exeter,  York,  Suffolk,  Som- 
erset, Winchester,  Warwick,  Talbot,  tJie  Governor  of 
Paris,  and  others. 

Glo.   Lord  Bishop,  set  the  crow-n  upon  his  head. 

Win.   God  save  King  Henry,  of  that  name  the  sixth  ! 

Glo.   Now,  governor  of  Paris,  take  your  oath, 

[Governor  kneels. 
That  you  elect  no  other  king  but  him  ; 
Esteem  none  friends  but  such  as  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  !  2 

\_Exeunt  Governor  and  his  Train. 

Enter  Sir  John  Fastolfe. 

Fast.   My  gracious  sovereign,  as  I  rode  from  Calais, 
To  haste  unto  your  coronation, 
A  letter  was  deliver'd  to  my  hands, 
Writ  to  your  Grace  from  th'  Duke  of  Burgundy. 

\Presenting  it. 

Tal.   Shame  to  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  and  thee  ! 
I  vow'd,  base  knight,  when  I  did  meet  thee  next. 
To  tear  the  garter  from  thy  craven's  leg,  —        \Plucks  it  off. 
WTiich  I  have  done,  —  because  unworthily 
Thou  wast  installed  in  that  high  degree.  — 

1  Pretend  and  pretence  were  often  used  in  the  sense  of  intend  or  purpose. 
See  vol.  i.  page  196,  note  4. 

«  The  crowning  of  King  Henry  at  Paris  took  place  December  17,  1431. 


72  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  IV. 

Pardon  me,  princely  Henry,  and  the  rest : 
This  dastard,  at  the  battle  of  Patay, 
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  besides, 
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,  yea  or  no. 

Glo.   To  say  the  truth,  this  fact  was  infamous. 
And  ill  beseeming  any  common  man. 
Much  more  a  knight,  a  captain,  and  a  leader. 

Tal.    When  first  this  order  was  ordain'd,  my  lords. 
Knights  of  the  Garter  were  of  noble  birth. 
Valiant  and  virtuous,  full  of  haughty  courage, 
Such  as  were  grown  to  credit  by  the  wars ; 
Not  fearing  death,  nor  shrinking  for  distress, 
But  always  resolute  in  most  extremes.^ 
He,  then,  that  is  not  furnish'd  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-born  swain 
That  doth  presume  to  boast  of  gentle  blood. 

King.    Stain  to  thy  countrymen,  thou  hear'st  thy  doom  ! 
Be  packing,  therefore,  thou  that  wast  a  knight : 
Henceforth  we  banish  thee,  on  pain  of  death.  — 

[£'jc//Fastolff,. 
And  now,  my  Lord  Protector,  view  the  letter 

'  Most  extremes  is  greatest  extremities.     More  and  most  were  often  used 
ioT  greater  s.ni\  greatest.  » 


SCENE  I.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  73 

Sent  from  our  uncle  Duke  of  Burgundy. 

Glo.   ^Vhat  means  his  Grace,  that  he  hath  changed  his  style  ? 

[  Viewing  the  superscription- 
No  more  but,  plain  and  bluntly.  To  the  King? 
Hath  he  forgot  he  is  his  sovereign? 
Or  doth  this  churlish  superscription 
Portend  some  alteration  in  good- will? 
\\'Tiat's  here  ?     [Reads.]  /  have,  upon  especial  cause,  — 
Moved  with  compassion  of  my  country's  wreck, 
Together  with  the  pitiful  complaints 
Of  such  as  your  oppression  feeds  upon,  — 
Forsaken  your  pernicious  faction. 
And  join'  d  with  Charles,  the  rightful  King  of  France. 

0  monstrous  treachery  !  can  this  be  so, 
That  in  alliance,  amity,  and  oaths, 

There  should  be  found  such  false  dissembling  guile  ? 

King.   What !  doth  my  uncle  Burgundy  revolt  ? 

Glo.    He  doth,  my  lord  ;  and  is  become  your  foe. 

King.    Is  that  the  worst  this  letter  doth  contain? 

Glo.    It  is  the  worst,  and  all,  my  lord,  he  writes. 

King.   Why,  then  Lord  Talbot  there  shall  talk  with  him. 
And  give  him  chastisement  for  this  abuse.  — 
My  lord,  how  say  you?  are  you  not  content? 

Tal.    Content,  my  liege  !  yes,  but  that  I'm  prevented,'* 

1  should  have  begg'd  I  might  have  been  employ'd. 

King.   Then  gather  strength,  and  march  unto  him  straight : 
Let  him  perceive  how  ill  we  brook  his  treason. 
And  what  offence  it  is  to  flout  his  friends. 

Tal.    I  go,  my  lord  ;  in  heart  desiring  still 
You  may  behold  confusion  of  your  foes.  \_Exit. 

Enter  Vernon  and  Basset. 

Ver.    Grant  me  the  combat,  gracious  sovereign  ! 

*  Prevented  in  its  old  sense  of  anticipated  or  forestalled. 


74  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT 

Bas.   And  me,  my  lord,  grant  me  the  combat  too  ! 

York.   This  is  my  servant :  hear  him,  noble  Prince  ! 

Som.   And  this  is  mine  :  sweet  Henry,  favour  him  ! 

King.    Be  patient,  lords  ;  and  give  them  leave  to  speak.  ■ 
Say,  gentlemen,  what  makes  you  thus  exclaim  ? 
And  wherefore  crave  you  combat  ?  or  with  whom  ? 

Ver.   With  him,  my  lord  ;  for  he  hath  done  me  wrong. 

Bas.    And  I  with  him  ;  for  he  hath  done  me  wrong. 

King.   What  is  that  wrong  whereof  you  both  complain  ? 
First  let  me  know,  and  then  I'll  answer  you. 

Bas.    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  confutation  of  which  rude  reproach. 
And  in  defence  of  my  lord's  worthiness, 
I  crave  the  benefit  of  law  of  arms. 

Ver.    And  that  is  my  petition,  noble  lord  : 
For  though  he  seem  with  forged  quaint  ^  conceit 
To  set  a  gloss  upon  his  bold  intent, 
Yet  know,  my  lord,  I  was  provoked  by  him ; 
And  he  first  took  exceptions  at  this  badge. 
Pronouncing  that  the  paleness  of  this  flower 
Bewray'd  the  faintness  of  ray  master's  heart. 

York.   Will  not  this  malice,  Somerset,  be  left? 

So7n.   Your  private  grudge,  my  Lord  of  York,  will  out, 
Though  ne'er  so  cunningly  you  smother  it. 

6  Repugn  for  resist  ox  fight  against,  like  the  Latin  repugno. 
8  Quaint  here  is  ingenious  or  artful.    Often  so. 


SCENE  1.  KraC    HENRY   THE    SIXTH,  75 

King.    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. 

York.    Let  this  dissension  first  be  tried  by  fight. 
And  then  your  Highness  shall  command  a  peace. 

Sotn.   The  quarrel  toucheth  none  but  us  alone  ; 
Betwixt  ourselves  let  us  decide  it,  then. 

York,   There  is  my  pledge  ;  accept  it,  Somerset        « 

Ver.   Nay,  let  it  rest  where  it  began  at  first. 

Bas.   Confirm  it  so,  mine  honourable  lord. 

Glo.   Confirm  it  so  !     Confounded  be  your  strife  ! 
And  perish  ye,  with  your  audacious  prate  ! 
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  net  well 
To  bear  with  their  perverse  objections  ; 
Much  less  to  take  occasion  fi"om  their  mouths 
To  raise  a  mutiny  betwixt  yourselves  : 
Let  me  persuade  you  take  a  better  course. 

Exe.    It  grieves  his  Highness  :  good  my  lords,  be  fiiends. 

King.    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  \vill  their  grudging  stomachs  be  provoked 
To  wilful  disobedience,  and  rebel ! 
Besides,  what  infamy  will  there  arise, 
When  foreign  princes  shall  be  certified 


y6  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  IV. 

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  forgo 
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  o:i  a  i-ed  rose. 
That  any  one  should  therefore  be  suspicious 
I  mQf  e  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  j 

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  j 

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,  Alen^on,  and  that  traitorous  rout.  t 

[^Flourish.     Exeunt  King  Henry,  Gloster,  Somer-      I 

SET,  Winchester,  Suffolk,  and  Basset.      ; 

War.   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, 


SCENE  II.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  TJ 

In  that  he  wears  the  badge  of  Somerset. 

War.   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  York,  Warnmck,  and  Vernon- 

Exe.    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  simple  man  that  sees 
This  jarring  discord  of  nobility. 
This  shouldering  of  each  other  in  the  Court, 
This  factious  band\ing  of  their  favourites. 
But  that  he  doth  presage  some  ill  event. 
Tis  much  when  sceptres  are  in  children's  hands ; 
But  more  when  envy  breeds  unkind  ~  division  ; 
Thence  comes  the  ruin,  there  begins  confusion.  \Exit. 

Scene  II.  —  Before  Bourdeaux. 

Enter  Talbot,  with  his  Forces. 

Tal.    Go  to  the  gates  of  Bourdeaux,  trumpeter ; 
Summon  their  general  unto  the  wall.  — 

Trumpet  sounds  a  parley.     Enter,  on  the  walls,  the  General 
of  the  French  Forces,  and  others. 

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, 

■  Eitvy,  as  usual,  for  malice  or  enmity.     Unkind  for  unnatural.    Sec  vol 
iii.  pa^e  191,  note  3. 


yS  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  IV. 

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 ;  ^  j 

Who,  in  a  moment,  even  with  the  earth  j 

Shall  lay  your  stately  and  air-braving  towers, 

If  you  forsake  the  offer  of  our  love. 

Gen.   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  Enghsh  Talbot. 

1  This  old  warlike  trio  is  often  alluded  to  by  the  Poet.  And  the  figure 
seems  to  have  been  a  favourite  with  others  before  him.  So  in  the  answer 
of  Henry  the  Fifth  to  the  citizens  of  Rouen,  when  he  was  besieging  that  city 
in  1419:  "That  the  goddesse  of  battell,  called  Bellona,  had  three  hand- 
maidens ever  of  necessitie  attending  upon  hir,  as  blood,  fire,  and  famine. 
And  whereas  it  laie  in  his  choise  to  use  them  all  three,  yea,  two,  or  one  of 
them,  at  his  pleasure,  he  had  appointed  onlie  the  meekest  of  those  three 
damsels  to  punish  them  of  that  citie,  till  they  were  brought  to  reason." 

2  Wcll-appowted  is  well-furnished,  well-attended.     Often  so. 

3  "  To  rive  their  dangerous  artillery "  is  merely  a  figurative  way  of  ex- 
pressing to  discharge  it.  To  rive  is  to  burst;  and  burst  is  applied  by 
Shakespeare  more  than  once  to  thunder,  or  to  a  similar  sound. 


I 


SCKNEii.  KING   HENRY  THE   SIXTH.  79 

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-colourM, 
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.,froTn  the  walls. 
Tal.    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, 

*  'Due  for  endue,  which  was  often  used  in  the  sense  of  invest. 

5  In  blood  is  a  term  of  the  forest ;  a  deer  was  said  to  be  in  blood  when  in 
vigour  or  in  good  condition,  and  full  of  courage.  See  voL  ii.  page  49, 
note  I. 

«  This  use  of  rascal  is  well  explained  by  a  passage  from  Verstegan's 
Restitution  of  Decayed  Intelligence,  1605:  ".As  before  I  have  showed  how 
the  ill  names  of  beasts,  in  their  most  contemptible  state,  are  in  contempt 
applied  to  women  ;  so  is  rascall,  being  the  name  of  an  ill-favoured,  leane, 
and  worthlesse  deere,  commonly  applied  unto  such  men  as  are  held  of  no 
CTedit  or  worth."  The  figure  is  kept  up  by  using  heads  of  steel  for  lances, 
Teferring  to  the  deer's  horns. 


80  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  IV. 

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 !  {^Exeunt. 

Scene  III.  —  Plains  in  Gas  cony. 
Enter  York,  with  Forces  ;  to  him  a  Messenger. 

York.    Are  not  the  speedy  scouts  return'd  again, 
That  dogg'd  the  mighty  army  of  the  Dauphin  ? 

Mess.   They  are  return'd,  my  lord  ;  and  give  it  out 
That  he  is  march'd  to  Bourdeaux  with  his  power. 
To  fight  with  Talbot :  as  he  march'd  along, 
By  your  espials  were  discovered 
Two  mightier  troops  than  that  the  Dauphin  led ; 
Which  join'd  with  him,  and  made  their  march  for  Bourdeaux. 

York.    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  louted  ^  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. 

Lucy.   Thou  princely  leader  of  our  English  strength. 
Never  so  needful  on  the  earth  of  France, 
Spur  to  the  rescue  of  the  noble  Talbot, 

1  Louted  is  treated  as  a  lout,  that  is,  mocked,  or  made  sport  of.  So  in  the 
translation  of  Humphrey's  treatise  Of  Nobilytie,  1563 :  "  Pride  it  is  to  lowte 
men  of  lower  sorte,  or  pore  lasers,  as  is  some  men's  guise."  Also  in  Har- 
rington's Orlando  Furioso  :  "  Ah  woe  is  me,  for  from  that  houre  to  this  she 
bides  with  him,  where  me  they  lout  and  scorn."  And  in  Ralph  Roister 
Doister  :  "  He  is  louted  and  laughed  to  scorne  for  the  veriest  dolte." 


SCENE  III.  KING   HENRY   THE   SIXTH.  8l 

Who  now  is  girdled  with  a  waist  of  iron, 

And  hemm'd  about  with  grim  destruction  : 

To  Bourdeaux,  warlike  duke  !  to  Bourdeaux,  York  ! 

Else,  farewell  Talbot,  France,  and  England's  honour. 

York.   O  God,  that  Somerset  —  who  in  proud  heart 
Doth  stop  my  comets  —  were  in  Talbot's  place  ! 
So  should  we  save  a  valiant  gentleman 
By  forfeiting  a  traitor  and  a  coward. 
Mad  ire  and  wrathful  fur)'  make  me  weep, 
That  thus  we  die,  while  remiss  traitors  sleep. 

Lucy.   O,  send  some  succour  to  the  distress'd  lord  ! 

York.    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. 

Lucy.   Then  God  take  mercy  on  brave  Talbot's  soul ; 
And  on  his  son  young  John,  who  t^vo  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. 

York.   Alas,  what  joy  shall  noble  Talbot  have 
To  bid  his  young  son  welcome  to  his  grave  ? 
Away  !  vexation  almost  stops  my  breath. 
That  sunder'd  friends  greet  in  the  hour  of  death.  — 
Lucy,  farewell :  no  more  my  fortune  can, 
But  curse  the  cause  I  cannot  aid  the  man.  — 
Maine,  Blois,  Poictiers,  and  Tours,  are  won  away, 
'Long  all  of  Somerset  and  his  delay .^         \^Exit  with  Forces. 

'  "  AU  along  of  is  an  old  phrase  for  all  because  of.  So  used  repeatedly 
by  Scott  and  Dickens. 

'  It  has  been  observed  already,  that  on  the  death  of  Bedford  in  1435, 
York  succeeded  him  in  the  r^ency  of  France.  In  1437  he  was  superseded 
by  Warwick,  who  dying  about  two  years  after,  York  was  reappointed.  In 
this  office  Somerset  took  sjjecial  f>ains  to  cross  and  thwart  him.  The  effects 
of  their  enmity  are  strongly  stated  by  Holinshed :  "  The  Duke  of  York,  per- 
cenring  his  evill  will,  openlie  dissembled  that  which  he  inwardlie  minded. 


82  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  IV. 

Lucy.  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  the  Fifth  :  whiles  they  each  other  cross, 
Lives,  honours,  lands,  and  all,  hurry  to  loss.  \_Exit. 

Scene  IV.  —  Other  Plains  in  Gascony. 

Enter  Somerset,  with  his  Forces ;  an  Officer  of  Talbot's 
with  him. 

Som.     It  is  too  late  ;  I  cannot  send  them  now  : 
This  expedition  was  by  York  and  Ta:lbot 
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  unheedful,  desperate,  wild  adventure  : 
York  set  him  on  to  fight  and  die  in  shame, 
That,  Talbot  dead,  great  York  might  bear  the  name. 

Off.    Here  is  Sir  William  Lucy,  who  with  me 
Set  from  our  o'er-match'd  forces  forth  for  aid. 

Enter  Sir  William  Lucy. 

Som.    How  now,  Sir  William  !  whither  were  you  sent? 
Lucy.    Hither,    my  lord;    from  bought  and  sold^   Lord 
Talbot ; 

either  of  them  working  things  to  the  others  displeasure,  till,  through  malice 
ana  division  betweene  them,  at  length  by  mortall  warre  they  were  both  con- 
sumed, with  almost  all  their  whole  lines  and  offspring." 

*  Alluding  ro  tne  tale  of  Prometheus. 

5  "  That  man  of  ever-living  memory,"  is  the  meaning. 

1  This  phrase  seems  to  have  been  proverbial  for  utter  ruin  caused  by 
foul  play  or  treacherous  practices.     So  in  Kmg  John,  v.  4 :  "  Fly,  noble 


SCENE  IV.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  83 

Who,  ring'd  about  with  bold  adversity, 

Cries  out  for  noble  York  and  Somerset, 

To  beat  assailing  death  from  his  weak  legions  : 

And,  whiles  the  honourable  captain  there 

Drops  bloody  sweat  from  his  war-wearied  limbs. 

And,  in  disvantage  2  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  succours  that  should  lend  him  md, 

While  he,  renowned  noble  gentleman. 

Yields  up  his  hfe  unto  a  world  of  odds  : 

Orleans  the  Bastard,  Charles  and  Burgundy, 

Alengon,  Reignier,  compass  him  about, 

And  Talbot  perisheth  by  your  default. 

Som.   York  set  him  on,  York  should  have  sent  him  aid. 
Lucy.    And  York  as  fast  upon  your  Grace  exclaims ; 

Swearing  that  you  withhold  his  levied  Horse, 

Collected  for  this  expedition, 

Som.  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. 

Lucy.   The  fraud  of  England,  not  the  force  of  France, 

Hath  now  entrapp'd  the  noble-minded  Talbot : 

Never  to  England  shall  he  bear  his  life  ; 

But  dies,  betray'd  to  fortune  by  your  strife. 

Som.    Come,  go  ;  I  \\\\\  dispatch  the  horsemen  straight ; 

English,  you  are  bought  and  sold"  And  in  Skelton's  Maguyfycence : 
"  Why,  was  not  for  money  Troy  bothe  bought  and  solde  f  "  See,  also,  vol.  i. 
page  106,  note  12, 

2  Disuantage  for  disadvantage.  So  in  Drayton's  Poly-Olbion :  "  That, 
had  not  his  light-horse  by  disvantageous  ground  been  hinder'd,  he  had 
struck  the  heart  of  Edwards  host."  In  like  manner,  we  have  disventure 
for  disadventure,  in  Skelton's  Don  Quixote. 

»  Emulation,  here  isiBasi&  factious  or  envious  rivalry.    Often  so. 


84  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  IV. 

Within  six  hours  they  will  be  at  his  aid. 

Lucy.   Too  late  comes  rescue  ;  he  is  ta'en  or  slain  : 
For  fly  he  could  not,  if  he  would  have  fled ; 
And  fly  would  Talbot  never,  though  he  might. 

Soni.    If  he  be  dead,  brave  Talbot,  then,  adieu  ! 

Lucy.    His  fame  lives  in  the  world,  his  shame  in  you. 

\_Exeunt. 

Scene  V.  —  The  English  Camp  near  Bourdeaux. 
Enter  Talbot  and  John  his  Son. 

Tal.    O  young  John  Talbot !  I  did  send  for  thee 
To  tutor  thee  in  stratagems  of  war. 
That  Talbot's  name  might  be  in  thee  revived 
When  sapless  age  and  weak  unable  limbs 
Should  bring  thy  father  to  his  drooping  chair. 
But  —  O  malignant  and  ill-boding  stars  !  — 
Now  thou  art  come  unto  a  feast  of  death,' 
A  terrible  and  unavoided  ^  danger  : 
Therefore,  dear  boy,  mount  on  my  swiftest  horse ; 
And  I'll  direct  thee  how  thou  shalt  escape 
By  sudden  flight :  come,  dally  not,  be  gone. 

John.    Is  my  name  Talbot?  and  am  I  your  son? 
And  shall  I  fly  ?     O,  if  you  love  my  mother, 
Dishonour  not  her  honourable  name, 
To  make  a  bastard  and  a  slave  of  me  ! 
The  world  will  say,  he  is  not  Talbot's  blood, 
That  basely  fled  when  noble  Talbot  stood. 

1  To  a  field  where  death  is  to  be  feasted  with  slaughter. 

2  Unavoided  for  unavoidable  or  inevitable.  The  endings  -ed  and  'Obh 
or  -ible  were  often  used  indiscriminately,  and  Shakespeare  has  many  in- 
stances of  it.  So  in  King  Richard  III.,  iv.  4  :  "  All  unavoided  is  the  doom 
of  destiny."  And  so  the  Poet  has  unvalued  for  invaluable,  unnumbered  for 
innumerable,  individable  for  undivided,  &c. 


SCENE  V.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  85 

Tal.   Fly,  to  revenge  my  death,  if  I  be  slain. 

John.    He  that  flies  so  will  ne'er  return  again. 

Tal.    If  we  both  stay,  we  both  are  sure  to  die. 

John.   Then  let  me  stay ;  and,  father,  do  you  fly : 
Your  loss  is  great,  so  your  regard  ^  should  be  j 
My  worth  unknown,  no  loss  is  known  in  me. 
Upon  my  death  the  French  can  Uttle  boast ; 
In  yours  they  will,  in  you  all  hopes  are  lost. 
Flight  cannot  stain  the  honour  you  have  won ; 
But  mine  it  will,  that  no  exploit  have  done  : 
You  fled  for  vantage,  every  one  will  swear ; 
But,  if  I  fly,  they'll  say  it  was  for  fear. 
There  is  no  hope  that  ever  I  will  stay. 
If,  the  first  hour,  I  shrink  and  run  away. 
Here,  on  my  knee,  I  beg  mortality. 
Rather  than  life  preserved  with  infamy. 

Tal.    Shall  all  thy  mother's  hopes  lie  in  one  tomb  ? 
John.   Ay,  rather  than  I'll  shame  my  mother's  womb. 

Tal.   Upon  my  blessing,  I  command  thee  go. 
John.    To  fight  I  will,  but  not  to  fly  the  foe. 

Tal.    Part  of  thy  father  may  be  saved  in  thee. 
John.    No  part  of  him  but  will  be  shamed  in  me. 

Tal.   Thou  never  hadst  renown,  nor  canst  not  lose  it. 
John.    Yes,  your  renowned  name  :  shall  flight  abuse  it  ? 

Tal.    Thy  father's  charge  shall  clear  thee  from  that  stain 
John.    You  cannot  witness  for  me,  being  slain. 
If  death  be  so  apparent,*'  then  both  fly. 

Tal.    And  leave  my  followers  here,  to  fight  and  die  ? 
My  age  was  never  tainted  with  such  shame. 

John.   And  shall  my  youth  be  guilty  of  such  blame  ? 
No  more  can  I  be  sever'd  from  your  side 
Than  can  yourself  yourself  in  twain  divide  : 

3  "  Your  regard  "  is  regard,  concern,  or  care  for  yourself. 
*  Here,  as  often,  apparent  is  evident,  certain,  or  manifest. 


86  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  IV. 

Stay,  go,  do  what  you  will,  the  like  do  I ; 
For  live  I  will  not,  if  my  father  die. 

Tal.   Then  here  I  take  my  leave  of  thee,  fair  son, 
Born  to  eclipse  thy  life  this  afternoon. 
Come,  side  by  side  together  live  and  die  ; 
And  soul  with  soul  from  France  to  Heaven  fly.         \_Exeunt, 

Scene  VI.  —  A  Field  of  Battle. 

Alarums :   excursions,    ivherein   Talbot's   Son   is   Jiemmed 
about,  and  Talbot  rescues  him. 

Tal.   Saint  George  and  victory  !  fight,  soldiers,  figlit : 
The  regent  hath  with  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  rescued  thee  from  death. 

John.    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  fate, 
To  my  determined  ^  time  thou  gavest  new  date. 

Tal.    When  from  the  Dauphin's  crest  thy  sword  struck  fire, 
It  warm'd  thy  father's  heart  with  proud  desire 
Of  bold-faced  victory.     Then  leaden  age, 
Quicken'd  with  youthful  spleen  ^  and  warlike  rage, 
Beat  down  Alengon,  Orleans,  Burgundy, 
And  from  the  pride  of  Gallia  rescued  thee. 
The  ireful  bastard  Orleans  —  that  drew  blood 
From  thee,  my  boy,  and  had  the  maidenhood 

1  To  determine  is,  literally,  to  set  bounds  or  limits  to  a  thing.  Young 
Talbot  therefore  means  that  this  rescue  by  his  father  has  prolonged  the 
period  of  life  which  had  h&Qnfixedhy  the  superiority  of  his  foes. 

2  Spleen  for  quickness  or  impetuosity.  The  word  was  applied  to  all  sorts 
of  movements  that  are  marked  by  suddenness,  such  as  lightning,  gunpowder 
explosions,  instant  bursts  of  passion,  &c.     See  vol.  iii.  page  13.  note  17. 


SCENE  VI.  KING    HENRY   THE    SIXTH,  8/ 

Of  thy  first  fight  —  I  soon  encountered, 
And,  interchanging  blows,  I  quickly  shed 
Some  of  his  bastard  blood ;  and,  in  disgrace. 
Bespoke  him  thus  :    Contaminated,  base. 
And  misbegotten  blood  I  spill  of  thine. 
Mean  and  right  poor,  for  that  pure  blood  of  mine 
Wliich  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  wear}-,  John  ?  how  dost  thou  fare  ? 
Wilt  thou  yet  leave  the  battle,  boy,  and  fly, 
Now  thou  art  seal'd  the  son  of  chivalr)-  ? 
Fly,  to  revenge  my  death  when  I  am  dead : 
The  help  of  one  stands  me  in  little  stead. 
O,  too  much  folly  is  it,  well  I  wot, 
To  hazard  all  our  lives  in  one  small  boat ! 
If  I  to-day  die  not  with  Frenchmen's  rage, 
To-morrow  I  shall  die  with  mickle  age  : 
By  me  they  nothing  gain,  an  if  I  stay,  — 
'Tis  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 ; 
All  these  are  saved,  if  thou  wilt  fly  away. 

fohn.   The  sword  of  Orleans  hath  not  made  me  smart ; 
These  words  of  yours  draw  life-blood  from  my  heart : 
On  that  advantage,  bought  with  such  a  shame,  — 
To  save  a  paltry  life,  and  slay  bright  fame,  — 
Before  young  Talbot  from  old  Talbot  fly. 
The  coward  horse  that  bears  me  fall  and  die  ! 
And  like  me  ^  to  the  peasant  boys  of  France, 

3  That  is,  assimilate  me,  make  me  like,  or  reduce  me  to  the  level  of  the 
peasant  boys.  —  "To  le  shame's  scorn"  is  by  being  shame's  scorn;  the 
gerundial  infinitive,  as  it  is  called.     See  voL  i.  page  207,  note  12. 


I 


88  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  IV. 

To  be  shame's  scorn  and  subject  of  mischance  ! 

Surely,  by  all  the  glory  you  have  won, 

An  if  I  fly,  I  am  not  Talbot's  son  : 

Then  talk  no  more  of  flight,  it  is  no  boot ;  "^ 

If  son  to  Talbot,  die  at  Talbot's  foot. 

Ta/.   Then,  follow  thou  thy  desperate  sire  of  Crete, 
Thou  Icarus  ;  thy  life  to  me  is  sweet : 
If  thou  wilt  fight,  fight  by  thy  father's  side ; 
And,  c6mmendable  proved,  let's  die  in  pride.  \_Exejint. 

Scene  VII.  —  Another  Fart  of  the  Field. 

Alarums:   excursions.     Enter  Talbot  wounded,  supported 
by  a  Servant. 

Tal.    Where  is  my  other  life  ?   mine  own  is  gone  : 
O,  Where's  young  Talbot?  where  is  valiant  John?  — 
Triumphant  death,  smear'd  with  captivity,^ 
Young  Talbot's  valour  makes  me  smile  at  thee  :  — 
When  he  perceived  me  shrink  and  on  my  knee, 
His  bloody  sword  he  brandish'd  over  me. 
And,  like  a  hungry  lion,  did  commence 
Rough  deeds  of  rage  and  stern  impatience  ; 
But,  when  my  angry  guardant  stood  alone, 
Tendering  my  ruin,^  and  assail'd  of  none, 
Dizzy-eyed  fury  and  great  rage  of  heart 

*  Boot  is  profit,  gain,  or  advantage  :  in  our  phrase,  "  it  is  of  no  use." 
Often  so.  —  The  phrase  an  if,  occurring  twice  in  this  scene,  is  an  old  redu- 
plication, equivalent  simply  to  if.  So  the  Poet  uses  a«,  or  if,  or  an  if, 
indifferently.    See  vol.  ii.  page  7,  note  5. 

1  Death  stained  or  fouled  with  the  dishonours  o/ captivity. 

2  That  is,  tender  of  me  in  my  ruin,  or  watching  me  tenderly.  So  in  the 
Second  Part,  iii.  i :  "  I  tender  so  the  safety  of  my  liege."  And  in  Beaumont 
and  Fletcher's  Philaster,  iii.  i :  "  Something  is  done  that  will  distract  me, 
that  will  make  me  mad,  if  I  behold  thee :  If  thou  tender' st  me,  let  me  not 
see  thee."  —  Ruin  is  here  used  in  the  primitive  sense  oifall. 


SCENE  VII.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  89 

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. 

Serv.    O  my  dear  lord,  lo,  where  your  son  is  borne  ! 

Enter  Soldiers,  bearing  the  body  ^  John  Talbot. 

Tal.   Thou  antic  death,^  which  laugh'st  us  here  to  scorn, 
Anon,  from  thy  insulting  tyranny, 
Coupled  in  bonds  of  perpetuity. 
Two  Talbots,  winged  through  the  lither  sky,^ 
In  thy  despite,  shall  scape  mortality.  — 
O  thou  whose  wounds  become  hard-favour'd  death, 
Speak  to  thy  father,  ere  thou  yield  thy  breath  ! 
Brave  death  by  speaking,  whether  he  will  or  no ; 
Imagine  him  a  Frenchman  and  thy  foe.  — 
Poor  boy  !  he  smiles,  methinks,  as  who  should  say, 
Had  death  been  French,  then  death  had  died  to-day.  — 
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  Talbot's  grave.         \_Dies. 

Alarums.  Exeunt  Soldiers  and  Servant,  leaznng  the  two 
bodies.  ^«/?r  Charles,  ALENgoN,  Bltigundy,  the  Bastard 
of  Orleans,  La  Pucelle,  and  Forces. 

Char.    Had  York  and  Somerset  brought  rescue  in, 

3  A  buffoon  or  merry-andrew  was  called  an  antic.  We  have  it  rep»eatedly 
so.    See  vol.  ii.  page  145,  note  22. 

<  Lither  is  limber,  pliant,  yielding;  as  in  Paradise  Lost,  iv. :  "  The  un- 
wieldy elephant,  to  make  them  mirth,  used  all  his  might,  and  wreath'd  his 
lithe  proboscis."  —  Sky  is  here  put  for  air  ;  the  meaning  thus  being  much 
the  same  as  in  Milton's,  "  He  with  broad  sails  winnow'd  the  buxom  air" ; 
where  buxom  is  used  in  its  original  sense  oi pliant, yielding. 


90  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  iv. 

We  should  have  found  a  bloody  day  of  this. 

Bast.    How  the  young  whelp  of  Talbot's,  raging-wood,^ 
Did  flesh  his  puny  sword  in  Frenchmen's  blood  ! 

Puc.    Once  I  encounter'd  him,  and  thus  I  said : 
Thou  maiden  youth,  be  vanqi{ish\i  by  a  maid  : 
But,  with  a  proud  majestical  high  scorn. 
He  answer'd  thus  :    Young  Talbot  was  not  born 
To  be  the  pillage  of  a  giglet^  wench. 
So,  rushing  in  the  bowels '''  of  the  French, 
He  left  me  proudly,  as  unworthy  fight. 

Bur.    Doubtless  he  would  have  made  a  noble  knight : 
See,  where  he  lies  inhearsed  in  the  arms 
Of  the  most  bloody  nurser  of  his  harms  !^ 

Bast.    Hew  them  to  pieces,  hack  their  bones  asimder. 
Whose  life  was  England's  glory,  Gallia's  wonder. 

Char.    O,  no,  forbear  !  for  that  which  we  have  fled 
During  the  life,  let  us  not  wrong  it  dead. 

Enter  Sir  William  Lucy,  attended ;  a  French  Herald  pre- 


Lucy.    Herald,  conduct  me  to  the  Dauphin's  tent, 
Who  hath  obtain'd  the  glory  of  the  day. 

Char.    On  what  submissive  message  art  thou  sent? 

Lucy.    Submission,  Dauphin  !  'tis  a  mere  French  word  ; 
We  English  warriors  wot  not  what  it  means. 
I  come  to  know  what  prisoners  thou  hast  ta'en. 
And  to  survey  the  bodies  of  the  dead. 

Char.    For  prisoners  ask'st  thou  ?     Hell  our  prison  is. 

5  Wood  is  an  old  word  for  mad  or  furious.    See  vol.  iii.  page  31,  note  28. 

s  Giglet  is  giddy,  wanton.  Cotgrave  explains  "  A  minx,  gigle,  Jlirt, 
callet."    See  vol.  vi.  page  235,  note  30. 

"  So  in  Tfie  First  Part  of  yeronimo,  1605  :  "  Meet,  Don  Andrea !  yes,  in 
the  battle  s  bowels." 

8  "  Nurser  of  his  harms,"  if  the  text  be  right,  must  mean  nurse  of  his 
wpunds.     I  n  that  case,  bloody  is  covered  with  blood. 


SCENE  VII.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  9I 

But  tell  me  whom  thou  seek'st. 

Lucy.   Where  is  the  great  Alcides  of  the  field, 
Valiant  Lord  Talbot,  Earl  of  Shrewsbury ; 
Created,  for  his  rare  success  in  arms, 
Great  Earl  of  VVashford,^  Waterford,  and  Valence  ; 
Lord  Talbot  of  Goodrig  and  Urchinfield, 
Lord  Strange  of  Blackmere,  Lord  Verdun  of  Alton, 
Lord  Cromwell  of  Wingfield,  Lord  Fumival  of  Sheffield, 
The  thrice-\nctorious  Lord  of  Falconbridge  ; 
Knight  of  the  noble  order  of  Saint  George, 
Worthy  Saint  Michael,  and  the  Golden  Fleece  ; 
Great  Marshal  to  Henry  the  Sixth 
Of  all  his  wars  within  the  realm  of  France  ? 

Puc.    Here  is  a  silly-stately  style  indeed  ! 
The  Turk,  that  two-and-fifty  kingdoms  hath. 
Writes  not  so  tedious  a  style  as  this.  — 
Him  that  thou  magnifiest  with  all  these  titles, 
Stinking  and  fly-blown,  lies  here  at  our  feet. 

Lucy.    Is  Talbot  slain,  the  Frenchmen's  only  scourge, 
Your  kingdom's  terror  and  black  Nemesis  ? 
O,  were  mine  eyeballs  into  bullets  tum'd, 
That  I,  in  rage,  might  shoot  them  at  your  faces  ! 
O,  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  beseems  their  worth. 

Puc.    I  think  this  upstart  is  old  Talbot's  ghost, 
He  speaks  with  such  a  proud-commanding  spirit. 
For  God's  sake,  let  him  have  'em ;  to  keep  them  here, 
They  would  but  stink,  and  putrefy  the  air. 

•  Wexford,  in  Ireland,  was  anciently  called  Washford  and  Weysford. 
1*  To  amaze  is  to  strike  with  dismay  or  constematum. 


92  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  V. 

Char.   Go,  take  their  bodies  hence. 

Lucy.  I'll  bear  them  hence  : 

But  doubt  not  from  their  ashes  shall  be  rear'd 
A  phoenix  that  shall  make  all  France  afeard. 

Char.   So  we  be  rid  of  them,  do  what  thou  wilt.  — 
And  now  to  Paris,  in  this  conquering  vein  : 
All  will  be  ours,  now  bloody  Talbot's  slain.  [Exeunt. 


ACT  V. 

Scene  I.  —  London.     A  Room  in  the  Palace. 
Enter  King  Henry,  Gloster,  and  Exeter. 

King.    Have  you  perused  the  letters  from  the  Pope, 
The  Emperor,  and  the  Earl  of  Armagnac  ? 

Glo.    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. 

King.    How  doth  your  Grace  affect  their  motion  ? 

Glo.   Well,  my  good  lord  ;  and  as  the  only  means 
To  stop  effusion  of  our  Christian  blood. 
And  stablish  quietness  on  every  side. 

Ki?ig.    Ay,  marry,  uncle  ;  for  I  always  thought 
It  was  both  impious  and  unnatural 
That  such  immanity  ^  and  bloody  strife 
Should  reign  among  professors  of  one  faith. 

Glo.   Besides,  my  lord,  the  sooner  to  effect 
And  surer  bind  this  knot  of  amity, 

1  Immanity  is  savageness,  barbarity ;  like  the  Latin  immanitas. 


SCENE  I.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  93 

The  Earl  of  Armagnac  —  near  kin  to  Charles, 
A  man  of  great  authority  in  France  — 
Proffers  his  only  daughter  to  your  Grace 
In  marriage,  with  a  large  and  sumptuous  dower. 

King.    Marriage,  uncle  !  alas,  my  years  are  young  ! 
And  fitter  is  my  study  and  my  books 
Than  wanton  dalliance  with  a  paramour. 
Yet,  call  th'  ambassadors  ;  and,  as  you  please, 
So  let  them  have  their  answers  ever)"^  one  : 
I  shall  be  well  content  with  any  choice 
Tends  to  God's  glory  and  my  country's  weal. 

Enter  a  Legate  and  two  Ambassadors,  with  Winchester, 
now  Cardinal  Beaufort,  and  habited  accordingly. 

Exe.    \_Aside^  What !  is  my  Lord  of  Winchester  install'd, 
And  call'd  unto  a  cardinal's  degree  ?  ^ 
Then  I  perceive  that  will  be  verified 
Henry  the  Fifth  did  sometime  prophesy. 
If  once  he  come  to  be  a  cardinal. 
He'' II  make  his  cap  co-equal  with  the  crown. 

King.    My  lords  ambassadors,  your  several  suits 
Have  been  consider'd  and  debated  on. 
Your  purpose  is  both  good  and  reasonable  ; 
And  therefore  are  we  certainly  resolved 
To  draw  conditions  of  a  friendly  peace  ; 
Which  by  my  Lord  of  Winchester  we  mean 

2  Beaufort's  preferment  to  "  a  cardinal's  degree  "  having  happened  about 
fifteen  years  back,  it  may  seem  strange  that  Exeter  should  now  for  the  first 
time  wonder  at  it  as  something  new.  This,  however,  is  quite  in  keeping 
with  other  things  in  the  same  scene,  such  as  the  alleged  youth  of  the  King, 
who  was  at  this  time  twenty-three  years  old.  The  point  is  well  stated  by 
Coleridge :  "  The  history  of  our  ancient  kings,  —  the  events  of  their  reigns, 
I  mean,  —  are  like  stars  in  the  sky  ;  —  whatever  the  real  interspaces  may 
be,  and  however  great,  they  seem  close  to  each  other.  The  stars  —  the 
events  —  strike  us  and  remain  in  our  eye,  little  modified  by  the  difference 
of  dates." 


94  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  V. 

Shall  be  transported  presently  to  France. 

Glo.    And,  for  the  proffer  of  my  lord  your  master, 
I  have  inform'd  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. 

King.    \_To  the  Amb.]   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,  inshipp'd. 
Commit  them  to  the  fortune  of  the  sea. 

\_Exeunt  King  Henry,  Gloster,  Exeter. 
and  Ambassadors. 

Car.   Stay,  my  lord  legate  :  you  shall  first  receive 
The  sum  of  money  which  I  promised 
Should  be  deliver'd  to  his  Holiness 
For  clothing  me  in  these  grave  ornaments. 

Leg.    I  will  attend  upon  your  lordship's  leisure.         \_Exit, 

Car.    Now  Winchester  will  not  submit,  I  trow. 
Or  be  inferior  to  the  proudest  peer.  — 
Humphrey  of  Gloster,  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.  \_Ex>i- 

Scene  II.  —  France.     Plains  in  Anjou. 

Enter  Charles,  Burgundy,  Alen^on,  the  Bastard  of  Orleans, 
Reignier,  La  Pucelle,  and  Forces,  marching. 

Char.   These  news,  my  lords,  may  cheer  our  drooping 
spirits  : 
'Tis  said  the  stout  Parisians  do  revolt. 


SCENE  III.  KING    HENRY   THE    SIXTH.  95 

And  turn  again  unto  the  warlike  French. 

AUn.   Then  march  to  Paris,  royal  Charles  of  France, 
And  keep  not  back  your  powers  in  dalliance. 

Pidc.    Peace  be  amongst  them,  if  they  turn  to  us ; 
Else,  ruin  combat  with  their  palaces  ! 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.    Success  unto  our  valiant  general, 
And  happiness  to  his  accomplices  ! 

Char.   What  tidings  send  our  scouts  ?     I  pr'ythee,  speak. 

Mess.   The  English  army,  that  diWded  was 
Into  two  parts,  is  now  conjoin'd  in  one. 
And  means  to  give  you  battle  presently. 

Char.   Somewhat  too  sudden,  sirs,  the  warning  is ; 
But  we  will  presently  provide  for  them. 

Bur.    I  trust  the  ghost  of  Talbot  is  not  there  : 
Now  he  is  gone,  my  lord,  you  need  not  fear. 

Puc.  Of  all  base  passions,  fear  is  most  accursed  : 
Command  the  conquest,  Charles,  it  shall  be  thine  ; 
Let  Henry  fret,  and  all  the  world  repine. 

Char.  Then  on,  my  lords  ;  and  France  be  fortunate  ! 

\Extunt. 

Scene  III.  —  Before  AngUrs. 

Alarums  :  excursions.     Enter  La  Pucelle. 

Pul.   The  regent  conquers,  and  the  Frenchmen  fly.  — 
Now  help,  ye  charming  spells  and  periapts  ;  ^ 

1  Periapts  were  certain  written  charms  worn  abotit  the  person  as  preserva- 
tives from  disease  and  danger.  Of  these  the  first  chapter  of  St.  John's  Gos- 
pel was  deemed  the  most  efficacious.  The  following  story  is  related  in 
Wits,  Fits,  and  Fancies,  1595 :  "  A  cardinal,  seeing  a  priest  carrjing  a 
cudgel  under  his  gown,  reprimanded  him.  His  excuse  was,  that  he  only 
carried  it  to  defend  himself  against  the  dogs  of  the  town.  Wherefore,  I 
pray  you,  replied  the  cardinal,  serves  St.  yohn's  Gospel  f  Alas,  my  lord, 
said  the  priest,  these  curs  imderstand  no  Latm." 


96  THE    FIRST    PART    OP 


ACT  V. 


And  ye  choice  spirits  that  admonish  me, 

And  give  me  signs  of  future  accidents  ; 

You  speedy  helpers,  that  are  substitutes 

Under  the  lordly  monarch  of  the  North,^ 

Appear,  and  aid  me  in  this  enterprise  !  \Thunder. 

Enter  Fiends. 

This  speed  and  quick  appearance  argues  proof 

Of  your  accustom 'd  diligence  to  me. 

Now,  ye  familiar  spirits,  that  are  cull'd 

Out  of  the  powerful  legions  under  earth, 

Help  me  this  once,  that  France  may  get  the  field. 

\They  walk  about,  and  speak  not. 
O,  hold  me  not  with  silence  over-long  ! 
Where  ^  I  was  wont  to  feed  you  with  my  blood, 
I'll  lop  a  member  off,  and  give  it  you, 
In  earnest  of  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 
Entreat  you  to  your  wonted  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  vail  ^  her  lofty-plumed  crest. 
And  let  her  head  fall  into  England's  lap. 

2  The  monarch  of  the  North  was  Zimimar,  one  of  the  four  principal 
devils  invoked  by  witches.  The  North  was  supposed  to  be  the  particulat 
habitation  of  bad  spirits.    Milton  assembles  the  rebel  angels  in  the  North. 

8  Where  for  whereas,  a  common  usage  in  old  writers.  Whereas  is  also 
sometimes  used  for  where. 

*  To  vail  is  to  lower  or  let  fall.    Often  so. 


SCENE  III.  KING    HENRY    THE   SIXTH.  97 

My  ancient  incantations  are  too  weak. 

And  Hell  too  strong  for  me  to  buckle  with  : 

Now,  France,  thy  glory  droopeth  to  the  dust.  [^Ext/. 

Alarums.  Enter  French  and  English,  fighting.  La  Pucelle 
and  \ovx.  fight  hand  to  hand:  La  Fucelle  is  taken.  TTu 
French  fly. 

York.    Damsel  of  France,  I  think  I  have  you  fast : 
Unchain  your  spirits  now  with  spelling  charms. 
And  try  if  they  can  gain  your  hberty.  — 
A  goodly  prize,  fit  for  the  Deval's  grace  ! 
See,  how  the  ugly  ^\-itch  doth  bend  her  brows, 
As  if,  with  Circe,  she  would  change  my  shape  ! 

I*uc.   Changed  to  a  worser  shape  thou  canst  not  be. 

York.    O,  Charles  the  Dauphin  is  a  proper  man  ; 
No  shape  but  his  can  please  your  dainty  eye. 

Puc.   A  plaguing  mischief  hght  on  Charles  and  thee  ! 
And  may  ye  both  be  suddenly  surprised 
By  bloody  hands,  in  sleeping  on  your  beds  ! 

York.    Fell  banning  ^  hag,  enchantress,  hold  thy  tongue  ! 

Puc.   I  pr'jthee,  give  me  leave  to  curse  awhile. 

York.   Curse,  miscreant,  when  thou  comest  to  the  stake. 

\Exeunt. 

Alarums.     Enter  Suffolk,  leading  in  Margaret. 

Suf.   Be  what  thou  wilt,  thou  art  my  prisoner, 

\^Gazes  on  her. 

0  fairest  beauty,  do  not  fear  nor  fly ! 

For  I  will  touch  thee  but  with  reverent  hands. 
And  lay  them  gently  on  thy  tender  side. 

1  kiss  these  fingers  for  eternal  peace.         \Kissing  her  hand. 
Who  art  thou  ?  say,  that  I  may  honour  thee. 

•  To  ban  is  to  curse  ;  as  indeed  the  context  here  shows. 


98  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  V. 

Mar.    Margaret  my  name,  and  daughter  to  a  king, 
The  King  of  Naples,  —  whosoe'er  thou  art. 

Suf.   An  earl  I  am,  and  Suffolk  am  I  call'd. 
Be  not  offended,  Nature's  miracle. 
Thou  art  allotted  to  be  ta'en  by  me  : 
So  doth  the  swan  her  downy  cygnets  save, 
Keeping  them  prisoners  underneath  her  wings. 
Yet,  if  this  servile  usage  once  offend. 
Go,  and  be  free  again  as  Suffolk's  friend. 

\_She  turns  away  as  going. 
O,  stay  !  —  \_Aside.'\  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. 
-Fie,  de  la  Pole  !  disable '^  not  thyself; 
Hast  not  a  tongue  ?  is  she  not  here  thy  captive  ? 
Wilt  thou  be  daunted  at  a  woman's  sight? 
Ay,  beauty's  princely  majesty  is  such. 
Confounds  the  tongue,  and  itiakes  the  senses  crouch. 

Mar.    Say,  Earl  of  Suffolk,  —  if  thy  name  be  so,  — 
What  ransom  must  I  pay  before  I  pass  ? 
For  I  perceive  I  am  thy  prisoner. 

Suf.    [^ Aside.']   How  canst  thou  tell  she  will  deny  thy  suit 
Before  thou  make  a  trial  of  her  love  ? 


6  This  comparison,  made  between  things  sufficiently  unlike,  is  intended 
to  express  the  softness  and  delicacy  of  Lady  Margaret's  beauty,  which  de- 
lighted, but  did  not  dazzle ;  which  was  bright,  but  gave  no  pain  by  its  lustre. 
Sidney,  in  his  Astrophel  and  Stella,  supports  this  explanation : 

Lest  if  no  vaile  these  brave  gleams  did  disguise. 
They,  sunlike,  should  more  dazzle  than  delight. 

'  To  disable  was  to  dispraise,  or  impeach. 


I 


SCE>fElll.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  99 

Mar.   Why  speak'st  thou  not?  what  ransom  must  I  pay? 

Suf.  \_Aside^  She's  beautiful,  and  therefore  to  be  woo'd ; 
She  is  a  woman,  therefore  to  be  won. 

Mar.   Wilt  thou  accept  of  ransom  —  yea  or  no  ? 

Suf.  \Aside.'\  Fond  man,  remember  that  thou  hast  a  wife ; 
Then  how  can  Margaret  be  thy  paramour? 

Mar.    I  were  best  to  leave  him,  for  he  will  not  hear. 

Suf.    \_Aside^   There  all  is  marr'd ;  there  lies  a  cooling- 
card.s 

Mar.    He  talks  at  random  ;  sure,  the  man  is  mad. 

Suf.    \_Aside^    And  yet  a  dispensation  may  be  had. 

Mar.   And  yet  I  would  that  you  would  answer  me. 

Suf.    \Aside^    I'll  win  this  Lady  Margaret.     For  whom  ? 
Why,  for  my  King  :  tush,  that's  a  wooden  thing  !  ^ 

Mar.    He  talks  of  wood  :  it  is  some  carpenter. 

Suf.    [^Aside.']    Yet  so  my  fancy  may  be  satisfied, 
.And  peace  established  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  is  he  poor. 
And  our  nobility  will  scorn  the  match. 

Mar.    Hear  ye,  captain ;  are  you  not  at  leisure  ? 

Suf.    \_Aside.']    It  shall  be  so,  disdain  they  ne'er  so  much  : 
Henry  is  youthful,  and  will  quickly  yield.  — 
Madam,  I  have  a  secret  to  reveal. 

Mar.    \_Aside.'\    WTiat  though  I  be  enthrall'd?  he  seems  a 
knight, 
And  will  not  any  way  dishonour  me. 

8  A  cooling  card  was  most  probably  a  card  so  decisive  as  to  cool  the 
courage  of  the  adversary.  Metaphorically,  something  to  damp  or  over- 
whelm the  hopes  of  an  expectant.  So  in  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  Island 
Princess :  "  These  hot  youths,  I  fear,  will  find  a  cooling  card." 

®  That  is,  an  awkward  business,  an  undertaking  not  likely  to  succeed. 
It  is  sport  to  see  a  bold  fellow  out  of  countenance,  for  that  puts  his  face  into 
a  most  shrunken  and  wooden  px>slure. 


lOO  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  V. 

Suf.   Lady,  vouchsafe  to  listen  what  I  say. 

Mar.  [Aside.']  Perhaps  I  shall  be  rescued  by  the  French ; 
And  then  I  need  not  crave  his  courtesy. 

Su/.    Sweet  madam,  give  me  hearing  in  a  cause  — 

Mar.    [Aside.']  Tush,  women  have  been  captivate  ere  now. 

Suf.    I  pr'ythee,  lady,  wherefore  talk  you  so? 

Mar.    I  cry  you  mercy,  'tis  but  guid  for  ^uo. 

Suf.   Say,  gentle  Princess,  would  you  not  suppose 
Your  bondage  happy,  to  be  made  a  queen  ? 

Mar.   To  be  a  queen  in  bondage  is  more  vile 
Than  is  a  slave  in  base  servility ; 
For  princes  should  be  free. 

Suf.  And  so  shall  you, 

If  happy  England's  royal  King  be  free. 

Mar.   Why,  what  concerns  his  freedom  unto  me  ? 

Suf    I'll  undertake  to  make  thee  Henry's  Queen ; 
To  put  a  golden  sceptre  in  thy  hand. 
And  set  a  precious  crown  upon  thy  head. 
If  thou  wilt  condescend  to  — 

Mar.  What? 

Suf.  His  love. 

Mar.    I  am  unworthy  to  be  Henry's  wife. 

Suf.    No,  gentle  madam  ;  I  unworthy  am  ^ 

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  ?  ,' 

Mar.   An  if  my  father  please,  I  am  content.  \ 

Suf   Then  call  our  captains  and  our  colours  forth  !  —  j. 

[Troops  come  forward.  \ 

And,  madam,  at  your  father's  castle-walls 
We'll  crave  a  parley,  to  confer  with  him.  — 

A  parley  sounded.     Enter  Reignier  on  the  walls. 

See,  Reignier,  see,  thy  daughter  prisoner  ! 


SCEKE  III.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  lOI 

Reig.   To  whom  ? 

Suf.  To  me. 

Reig.  Suffolk,  what  remedy  ? 

I  am  a  soldier,  and  unapt  to  weep 
Or  to  exclaim  on  fortune's  fickleness. 

Suf.   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  woo'd  and  won  thereto ; 
And  this  her  easy-held  imprisonment 
Hath  gain'd  thy  daughter  princely  liberty. 

Reig.    Speaks  Suffolk  as  he  thinks  ? 

Suf.  Fair  Margaret  knows 

That  Suffolk  doth  not  flatter,  face,^°  or  feign. 

Reig.   Upon  thy  princely  warrant,  I  descend 
To  give  thee  answer  of  thy  just  demand. 

Suf.   And  here,  my  lord,  I  will  expect  thy  coming. 

[Exit  REiGNiER_/roz«  the  walls. 

Trumpets  sounded.     Enter  Reignier,  below. 

Reig.   Welcome,  brave  earl,  into  our  territories : 
Command  in  Anjou  what  your  Honour  pleases. 

Suf.   Thanks,  Reignier,  happy  for  so  sweet  a  child. 
Fit  to  be  made  companion  with  a  king  : 
WTiat  answer  makes  your  Grace  unto  my  suit  ? 

Reig.    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  counties  Maine  and  Anjou, 
Free  from  oppression  or  the  stroke  of  war, 
My  daughter  shall  be  Henry's,  if  he  please. 

i"  To  face  was  sometimes  used  for  to  carry  a  false  apjjearance,  to  play 
the  hjrpocrite.  Hence  one  of  the  persons  in  Jonson's  Alchemist  is  named 
Face. 


I02  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  V. 

Suf.   That  is  her  ransom  ;  I  deliver  her ; 
And  those  two  counties  I  will  undertake 
Your  Grace  shall  well  and  quietly  enjoy. 

Reig.   And  I  again,  in  Henry's  royal  name, 
As  deputy  unto  that  gracious  King, 
Give  thee  her  hand,  for  sign  of  plighted  faith. 

Suf.    Reignier  of  France,  I  give  thee  kingly  thanks. 
Because  this  is  in  traffic  of  a  king  :  — 
\_Aside.'\    And  yet,  methinks,  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,  Reignier  :  set  this  diamond  safe 
In  golden  palaces,  as  it  becomes. 

Reig.    I  do  embrace  thee,  as  I  would  embrace 
The  Christian  prince  King  Henry,  were  he  here. 

Mar.  Farewell,  my  lord  :  good  wishes,  praise,  and  prayers 
Shall  Suffolk  ever  have  of  Margaret.  \^Going. 

Suf.    Farewell,  sweet  madam :  but,  hark  you,  Margaret ; 
No  princely  commendations  to  my  King? 

Mar.    Such  commendations  as  become  a  maid, 
A  virgin,  and  his  servant,  say  to  him. 

Stif.   Words  sweetly  placed  and  modestly  directed. 
But,  madam,  I  must  trouble  you  again ; 
No  loving  token  to  his  Majesty? 

Mar.   Yes,  my  good  lord,  a  pure  unspotted  heart. 
Never  yet  taint  ^^  with  love,  I  send  the  King. 

Suf.    And  this  withal.  \^Kisses  Jier. 

Mar.   That  for  thyself :   I  will  not  so  presume 

11  Taint  for  tainted.  The  Poet  has  many  preterites  formed  in  the  same 
way  ;  as  heat  for  heated,  hoist  for  hoisted,  quit  for  quitted,  waft  or  wafted,  &c. 
So,  again,  near  the  end  of  this  play :  "  My  tender  youth  was  never  yet 
attaint  with  any  passion  of  infiaming  love."  —  Both  taint  and  attaint  here 
mean  touched. 


SCENE  IV.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  I03 

To  send  such  peevish  ^^  tokens  to  a  king. 

\Exeunt  Reigxier  and  Margaret. 
Suf.    O,  wert  thou  for  myself !  —  But,  Suffolk,  stay ; 
Thou  mayst  not  wander  in  that  labyrinth ; 
There  Minotaurs  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  comest  to  kneel  at  Henry's  feet, 
Thou  mayst  bereave  him  of  his  wits  >vith  wonder.  \Exit. 


Scene  IV.  —  Camp  of  the  Duke  of  Yovx.  in  Anjou. 
Enter  York,  Warwick,  and  others. 
York.   Bring  forth  that  sorceress  condemn'd  to  burn. 
Enter  La  Pucelle,  guarded,  and  a  Shepherd. 

Shep.    Ah,  Joan,  this  kills  thy  father's  heart  outright ! 
Have  I  sought  every  country  far  and  near. 
And,  now  it  is  my  chance  to  find  thee  out. 
Must  I  behold  thy  timeless  '  cruel  death  ? 
Ah,  Joan,  sweet  daughter  Joan,  I'll  die  with  thee  ! 

Puc.   Decrepit  miser  !  ^  base  ignoble  \vretch  ! 
I  am  descended  of  a  gentler  blood  : 
Thou  art  no  father  nor  no  friend  of  mine. 

Shep.    Out,  out !  —  My  lords,  an  please  you,  'tis  not  so  ; 
I  did  beget  her,  all  the  parish  knows  : 

12  Trifling'&nd.  foolish  are  among  the  old  meanings  oi peevish. 

1  Timeless  for  untimely.  So  in  Drayton's  Legend  of  Robert  Duke  of 
Normandy  :  "  Thy  strength  was  buried  in  his  timeless  death."  See  vol.  I 
page  20I,  note  i. 

8  Afiser  has  no  relation  to  avarice  in  this  passage,  but  simply  means  a 
miserable  creature,  in  which  sense  it  was  often  used. 


I04 


THE    FIRST    PART    OF 


Her  mother  liveth  yet,  can  testify 

She  was  the  first  fruit  of  my  bachelorship. 

War.    Graceless  !  wilt  thou  deny  thy  parentage  ? 

York.   This  argues  what  her  kind  of  life  hath  been, 
Wicked  and  vile  ;  and  so  her  death  concludes. 

Shep.    Fie,  Joan,  that  thou  wilt  be  so  obstacle  !  ^ 
God  knows  thou  art  a  collop  ^  of  my  flesh  ; 
And  for  thy  sake  have  I  shed  many  a  tear : 
Deny  me  not,  I  pr'ythee,  gentle  Joan. 

Fuc.   Peasant,  avaunt !  —  You  have  suborn'd  this  man, 
Of  purpose  to  obscure  my  noble  birth. 

Shep.    'Tis  true,  I  gave  a  noble  to  the  priest 
The  morn  that  I  was  wedded  to  her  mother.  — 
Kneel  down  and  take  my  blessing,  good  my  girl. 
Wilt  thou  not  stoop  ?     Now  cursed  be  the  time 
Of  thy  nativity  !     I  would  the  milk 
Thy  mother  gave  thee  when  thou  suck'dst  her  breast, 
Had  been  a  little  ratsbane  for  thy  sake  ! 
Or  else,  when  thou  didst  keep  my  lambs  a-field, 
I  wish  some  ravenous  wolf  had  eaten  thee  ! 
Dost  thou  deny  thy  father,  cursed  drab  ?  — 
O,  burn  her,  burn  her  !  hanging  is  too  good.  \_Exit. 

York.   Take  her  away  ;  for  she  hath  lived  too  long, 
To  fill  the  world  with  vicious  qualities. 

Puc.    First,  let  me  tell  you  whom  you  have  condemn'd  : 
Not  one  begotten  of  a  shepherd  swain. 
But  issued  from  the  progeny  of  kings  ; 
Virtuous  and  holy ;  chosen  from  above, 
By  inspiration  of  celestial  grace, 
To  work  exceeding  miracles  on  Earth. 
I  never  had  to  do  with  wicked  spirits  : 

3  Obstacle  was  used  to  be  put  into  the   mouths  of  rustic  or  illiterate 
speakers,  for  obstinate. 

■*  Collop  iox  part  ox  portion.    See  vol.  vii.  page  148,  note  20. 


SCENE  IV.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  I05 

But  you,  —  that  are  polluted  with  your  lusts, 
Stain'd  with  the  guiltless  blood  of  innocents. 
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,  misconceivers  !  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. 

York.    Ay,  ay  :  —  away  with  her  to  execution  ! 

War.   And  hark  ye,  sirs  ;  because  she  is  a  maid. 
Spare  for  no  fagots,  let  there  be  enough  : 
Place  barrels  of  pitch  upon  the  fatal  stake, 
That  so  her  torture  may  be  shortened. 

Puc.   Will  nothing  turn  your  unrelenting  hearts? — 
Then,  Joan,  discover  thine  infirmity, 
That  warranteth  by  law  to  be  thy  privilege.  — 
I  am  with  child,  ye  bloody  homicides  : 
Murder  not,  then,  the  fruit  within  my  womb. 
Although  ye  hale  me  to  a  violent  death. 

York.    Now  Heaven  forfend  !  the  holy  maid  with  child  ! 

War.   The  greatest  miracle  that  e'er  ye  wrought : 
Is  all  your  strict  preciseness  come  to  this  ? 

York.    She  and  the  Dauphin  have  been  juggling : 
I  did  imagine  what  would  be  her  refuge. 

War.   Well,  well,  go  to  ;  we'll  have  no  bastards  live  j 
Especially  since  Charles  must  father  it. 

Puc.   You  are  deceived  ;  my  child  is  none  of  his  : 
It  was  Alengon  that  enjoy'd  my  love. 

York.   Alengon  !  that  notorious  Machiavel !  ^ 

8  The  character  of  Machiavel  seems  to  have  made  so  very  deep  an  im- 
pression on  the  dramatic  writers  of  the  age,  that  he  is  many  times  Intro- 


106  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  V, 

It  dies,  an  if  it  had  a  thousand  lives. 

Piic.   O,  give  me  leave,  I  have  deluded  you : 
'Twas  neither  Charles,  nor  yet  the  duke  I  named. 
But  Reignier,  King  of  Naples,  that  prevail'd. 

War.    A  married  man  !  that's  most  intolerable. 

York.   Why,  here's  a  girl !     I  think  she  knows  not  well. 
There  were  so  many,  whom  she  may  accuse. 

War.    It's  sign  she  hath  been  liberal  and  free. 

York.    And  yet,  forsooth,  she  is  a  virgin  pure.  — 
Strumpet,  thy  words  condemn  thy  brat  and  thee  : 
Use  no  entreaty,  for  it  is  in  vain. 

Puc.   Then   lead   me   hence ;  —  with   whom  I  leave  my 
curse. 
May  never  glorious  Sun  reflex  his  beams 
Upon  the  country  where  you  make  abode  ; 
But  darkness  and  the  gloomy  shade  of  death 
Environ  you,  till  mischief  and  despair 
Drive  you  to  break  your  necks  or  hang  yourselves  ! 

\_Exit,  guarded. 

York.    Break  thou  in  pieces,  and  consume  to  ashes, 
Thou  foul  accursed  minister  of  Hell  !  ^ 


duced  without  regard  to  anachronism.    So  in  The  Valiant  Welshman,  1615  : 
"  Read  Machiavel ;  princes  that  would  aspire  must  mock  at  hell." 

6  Joan  of  Arc  was  burnt,  as  "  an  agent  of  the  devil,"  at  Rouen,  May  30, 
1431.  The  inhuman  sentence  was  the  result  of  an  ecclesiastical  trial,  at 
which  the  Bishop  of  Beauvais  presided,  she  having  been  taken  in  his  dio- 
cese. Yet  the  violence  of  her  enemies  was  not  so  cruel  as  the  neglect  of 
those  who  ought  to  have  been  her  friends.  The  matter  is  thus  stated  by 
Lingard  :  "  If  ever  prince  were  indebted  to  a  subject,  Charles  VII.  was  in- 
debted to  Joan  of  Arc.  She  had  dispelled  the  terror  with  which  success 
had  invested  the  English  arms,  had  reanimated  the  courage  of  the  French 
soldiery,  and  had  nrmly  established  the  King  on  the  throne  of  his  ancestors. 
Yet,  from  the  moment  of  her  captivity  she  appears  to  have  been  forgotten. 
We  read  not  of  any  sum  offered  for  her  ransom,  or  attempt  made  to  alle- 
viate the  rigour  of  her  confinement,  or  notice  taken  of  her  trial  and  exe- 
cution." 


SCENE  IV.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  lO/ 

Enter  Cardinal  Beaufort  attended. 

Car.   Lord  regent,  I  do  greet  your  Excellence 
With  letters  of  commission  from  the  King. 
For  know,  my  lords,  the  States  of  Christendom, 
Moved  with  remorse  ~  of  these  outrageous  broils, 
Have  earnestly  implored  a  general  peace 
Betwixt  our  nation  and  th'  aspiring  French ; 
And  here  at  hand  the  Dauphin  and  his  train 
Approacheth,  to  confer  about  some  matters. 

York.    Is  all  our  travail  tum'd  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  ?  — 
O,  Warwick,  Warwick  !  I  foresee  with  grief 
The  utter  loss  of  all  the  realm  of  France. 

War.   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,  attended ;  Alencon,  the  Bastard  of  Orleans^ 
Reigxier,  and  others. 

Char.    Since,  lords  of  England,  it  is  thus  agreed 
That  peaceful  truce  shall  be  proclaim'd  in  France, 
We  come  to  be  informed  by  yourselves 
What  the  conditions  of  that  league  must  be. 

York.   Speak,  Winchester  ;  for  boiling  choler  chokes 
The  hollow  passage  of  my  prison 'd  voice, 

"  Remorse  is  pity  or  compassion.    Generally  so  in  Shakespeare. 


I08  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  V. 

By  sight  of  these  our  baleful  enemies. 

Car.   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  liegemen  to  his  crown  : 
And,  Charles,  upon  condition  thou  wilt  swear 
To  pay  him  tribute,  and  submit  thyself, 
Thou  shalt  be  placed  as  viceroy  under  him, 
And  still  enjoy  thy  regal  dignity. 

Alen.    Must  he  be,  then,  a  shadow  of  himself? 
Adorn  his  temples  with  a  coronet,^ 
And  yet,  in  substance  and  authority, 
Retain  but  privilege  of  a  private  man  ? 
This  proffer  is  absurd  and  reasonless. 

Char.    'Tis  known  already  that  I  am  possess'd 
With  more  than  half  the  Gallian  territories. 
And  therein  reverenced  for  their  lawful  king  : 
Shall  I,  for  lucre  of  the  rest  unvanquish'd. 
Detract  so  much  from  that  prerogative, 
As  to  be  call'd  but  viceroy  of  the  whole  ? 
No,  lord  ambassador ;  I'll  rather  keep 
That  which  I  have  than,  coveting  for  more, 
Be  cast  from  possibility  of  all. 

York.    Insulting  Charles  !  hast  thou  by  secret  means 
Used  intercession  to  obtain  a  league. 
And,  now  the  matter  grows  to  compromise, 
Stand'st  thou  aloof  upon  comparison? 
Either  accept  the  tide  thou  usurp'st, 
Of  benefit  ^  proceeding  from  our  King, 

8  Coronet  is  here  used  for  crown. 

9  "  Be  content  to  live  as  the  beneficiary  of  our  King."     Benefit  is  here  a 
term  of  law. 


SCENE  V.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  IO9 

And  not  of  any  challenge  of  desert, 

Or  we  will  plague  thee  with  incessant  wars. 

Reig.    \_Aside  to  Charles.]  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  opportunity. 

Alen.    \_Aside  to  Charles.]    To  say  the  truth,  it  is  your 
policy 
To  save  your  subjects  fi^om  such  massacre 
And  ruthless  slaughters  as  are  daily  seen 
By  our  proceeding  in  hostility ; 
And  therefore  take  this  compact  of  a  truce, 
Although  you  break  it  when  your  pleasure  serves. 

War.    How   say'st   thou,   Charles?    shall   our    condition 
stand? 

Char.    It  shall ; 
Only  reserved,  you  claim  no  interest 
In  any  of  our  towns  of  garrison. 

York.    Then  swear  allegiance  to  his  Majesty ; 
As  thou  art  knight,  never  to  disobey 
Nor  be  rebellious  to  the  crown  of  England,  — 
Thou,  nor  thy  nobles,  to  the  crown  of  England. 

[Charles  and  the  rest  give  tokens  of  fealty. 
So,  now  dismiss  your  army  when  ye  please  ; 
Hang  up  your  ensigns,  let  your  drums  be  still. 
For  here  we  entertain  a  solemn  peace.  \Exeunt. 

Scene  V.  —  London.     A  Room  in  the  Palace. 

Enter  King  Henry,  in  conference  with  Suffolk  ;  Gloster 
and  Y^yxT^s.  following. 

King.   Your  wondrous  rare  description,  noble  earl. 
Of  beauteous  Margaret  hath  astonish'd  me  ; 


no  THE    FIRST    PART    OF 

Her  virtues,  graced  with  external  gifts, 
Do  breed  love's  settled  passions  in  my  heart : 
And,  like  as  rigour  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. 

Suf.   Tush,  my  good  lord,  this  superficial  tale 
Is  but  a  preface  of  her  worthy  praise  ; 
The  chief  perfections  of  that  lovely  dame  — 
Had  I  sufificient  skill  to  utter  them  — 
Would  make  a  volume  of  enticing  lines. 
Able  to  ravish  any  dull  conceit : 
And,  which  is  more,  she  is  not  so  divine, 
So  full-replete  with  choice  of  all  delights. 
But,  with  as  humble  lowliness  of  mind. 
She  is  content  to  be  at  your  command ; 
Command,  I  mean,  of  virtuous  chaste  intents, 
To  love  and  honour  Henry  as  her  lord. 

King.   And  otherwise  will  Henry  ne'er  presume. 
Therefore,  my  Lord  Protector,  give  consent 
That  Margaret  may  be  England's  royal  Queen. 

Glo.   So  should  I  give  consent  to  flatter  sin. 
You  know,  my  lord,  your  Highness  is  betroth'd 
Unto  another  lady  of  esteem  : 
How  shall  we,  then,  dispense  with  that  contract, 
And  not  deface  your  honour  with  reproach  ? 

Suf.    As  doth  a  ruler  with  unlawful  oaths  ; 
Or  one  that,  at  a  triumph  ^  having  vow'd 
To  try  his  strength,  forsaketh  yet  the  lists 
By  reason  of  his  adversary's  odds  : 


1  A  triumph  formerly  signified  a  public  exhibition  or  performance ;  such 
as  a  tournament,  masque,  or  revel. 


SCENE  V.  KING   HENRY   THE    SIXTH.  1 1 1 

A  poor  earl's  daughter  is  unequal  odds, 
And  therefore  may  be  broke  without  offence. 

Glo.   Why,  what,  I  pray,  is  Margaret  more  than  that? 
Her  father  is  no  better  than  an  earl. 
Although  in  glorious  titles  he  excel. 

Suf.    O,  yes,  my  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. 

Glo.   And  so  the  Earl  of  Armagnac  may  do. 
Because  he  is  near  kinsman  unto  Charles. 

Exe.    Besides,  his  wealth  doth  warrant  hberal  dower. 
Where  Reignier  sooner  will  receive  than  give. 

Suf.   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  to  seek  a  queen  to  make  him  rich : 
So  worthless  peasants  bargain  for  their  wives, 
As  market-men  for  oxen,  sheep,  or  horse'. 
But  marriage  is  a  matter  of  more  worth 
Than  to  be  dealt  in  by  attorneyship  :  ^ 
Not  whom  we  will,  but  whom  his  Grace  affects. 
Must  be  companion  of  his  nuptial  bed  : 
And  therefore,  lords,  since  he  affects  her  most. 
It  most  of  all  these  reasons  bindeth  us. 
In  our  opinions  she  should  be  preferr'd. 
For  what  is  wedlock  forced  but  a  hell. 
An  age  of  discord  and  continual  strife  ? 
Whereas  the  contrary  bringeth  bliss. 
And  is  a  pattern  of  celestial  peace. 

2  By  the  intervention  of  another  man's  choice ;  one  acting  as  agent,  yet 
following  his  ow-n  discretion  or  judgment. 


112  THE    FIRST    PART    OF  ACT  V. 

Whom  should  we  match  with  Henry,  being  a  king, 

But  Margaret,  that  is  daughter  to  a  king  ? 

Her  peerless  feature,  joined  with  her  birth, 

Approves  her  fit  for  none  but  for  a  king : 

Her  valiant  courage  and  undaunted  spirit  — 

More  than  in  women  commonly  is  seen  — 

Will  answer  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  is  fair  Margaret  he  be  link'd  in  love. 

Then  yield,  my  lords ;  and  here  conclude  with  me 

That  Margaret  shall  be  queen,  and  none  but  she. 

King.    Whether  it  be  through  force  of  your  report, 
My  noble  Lord  of  Suffolk,  or  for  that 
My  tender  youth  was  never  yet  attaint 
With  any  passion  of  inflaming  love, 
I  cannot  tell ;  but  this  I  am  assured, 
I  feel  such  sharp  dissension  in  my  breast, 
Such  fierce  alarums  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  vouchsafe  to  come 
Across  the  seas  to  England,  and  be  crown'd 
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, 

'  Here,  as  usual  in  Shakespeare,  to  censure  is  \o  judge.    "  If,  in  judging 
me,  you  remember  what  you  were  in  your  youth." 


KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH. 


113 


Not  what  you  are,  I  know  it  will  excuse 

This  sudden  execution  of  my  will. 

And  so,  conduct  me  where,  from  company, 

I  may  revolve  and  ruminate  my  grief.  [^£xi/. 

Glo.   Ay,  grief,  I  fear  me,  both  at  first  and  last. 

{^Exeunt  Gloster  and  Exeter. 

Suf.   Thus  Suffolk  hath  prevail'd  ;  and  thus  he  goes, 
As  did  the  youthful  Paris  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. 


CRITICAL    NOTES. 


Act  I.,  Scene  i. 

Page  8.  Henry  the  Fifth,  too  famous  to  live  long.  —  So  Pope.  The 
old  text  has  "  King  Henry  the  Fift."  Perhaps  it  were  better  to  read 
"  King  Henry  Fifth,"  as  Walker  suggests. 

P.  lo.  When  at  their  mother^s  moist  eyes  babes  shall  suck.  —  So  the 
second  folio.     The  first  has  "  moistned  eyes." 

P.  lo.  Our  isle  be  made  a  marish  of  salt  tears.  —  The  original  has 
Nourish  instead  of  marish.  Corrected  by  Pope.  Lettsom  thinks  the 
author  had  in  mind  Ezekiel,  xlvii.  ii,  thus  translated  in  the  Bible  of 
1578:  "But  the  myrie  places  thereof,  and  the  marises  thereof  shall  not 
be  wholesome :  they  shall  be  made  salt-pits." 

P.  10.    A  far  more  glorious  star  thy  soul  will  make 

Than  jfulius  Ccesar  or  bright  Berenice.  —  The  original  has  a 
blank  instead  of  Berenice,  which  was  added  by  Johnson,  and  is  strongly 
approved  by  Walker.  Probably,  as  Malone  obser^'es,  the  blank  "  arose 
from  the  transcriber's  or  compositor's  not  being  able  to  make  out  the 
name." 

P.  ID.  Guienne,  Champagne,  Rheims,  Rouen,  Orleans.  —  The  origi- 
nal omits  Rouen,  which  Capell  supplied  from  Gloster's  next  speech. 


P.  1 1.    One  would  have  lingering  wars,  with  little  cost ; 

Another  would  fly  swift,  but  wanteth  wings  ; 

A  third  man  thinks,  without  expense  at  all,  &c.  —  So  the  sec- 
ond folio.  The  first  has  "  A  third  thinkes."  Dyce  reads  "  And  z.  third 
thinks." 


Il6  KING    HENRY    VI.       PART    FIRST. 

P.  II.    Were  our  tears  wanting  to  this  funeral, 

These  tidings  would  call  forth  their  flowing  tides.  —  So  Theo- 
bald.    The  old  text  has  "  her  flowing  Tides."     A  palpable  error. 

P.  12.  Having  scarce  full  six  thousand  in  his  troop.  —  The  original 
reads  "  Havingyw//  scarce  six  thousand."     Rowe's  correction. 

P.  1 2.  Here,  there,  and  everywhere,  enraged  he  flew.  —  The  original 
has  slew  instead  oiflew.     Corrected  by  Rowe. 

P.  13.  If  Sir  John  Fastolfe  had  not  play' d  the  coward.  —  Here,  and 
throughout  the  play,  the  original  misprints  Falstaffe.  The  error  is 
readily  corrected  from  Holinshed. 

P.  14.    The  King  from  Eltham  I  intend  to  steal, 

And  sit  at  chief  est  stern  of  public  weal.  —  So  Mason  and  Col- 
lier's second  folio.     The  original  has  send  instead  of  steal. 

Act  I.,  Scene  2. 

P.  15.  The  whiles  the  famisKd  English,  like  pale  ghosts,  &c.  —  So 
Capell  and  Collier's  second  folio.  The  old  text  has  "  Otherwhiles,  the 
famisht  English." 

P.  15.  Lefs  raise  the  siege:  why  lie  we  idly  here?  —  So  Walker. 
The  original  has  live  instead  of  lie.  The  two  words  were  often  con- 
founded. 

P.  15.   Him  I  forgive  my  death  that  killeth  me 

When  he  sees  me  go  back  one  foot  or  flee.  —  The  old  text  has 
flye  instead  oiflee.     Corrected  from  Collier's  second  folio. 

P.  16.  And  hunger  will  enforce  them  be  more  eager.  —  The  old  text 
reads  "  enforce  them  to  be."  The  Poet  very  often  omits  to  in  such 
cases. 

P.  18.   Heaven  and  our  gracious  Lady  hath  it  pleased 

To  shine  on  my  contemptible  estate. — The  old  text  reads  "our 
Lady  gracious r     Walker  says,  "  Surely,  '  owr  gracious  Lady!  " 

P.  18.  Decked  with  ii\^  flower-de-luces  on  each  side>  -^The  original 
YiAiJint  ioxfivt,    Holinshed  corrects  the  errori 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  11/ 

P.  1 8.  Then  come,  o'  Goe/'s  name;  I  do  fear  no  woman.  —  So 
Walker.     The  old  text  reads  "  I  fear." 

P.  20.  How  may  I  reverent  worship  thee  enough  ?  —  The  old  text 
has  reverently.  Capell  substituted  ever,  which  Lettsom  says  "  is  re- 
quired for  the  sense  as  well  as  for  the  metre." 

Act  I.,  Scene  3. 

P.  20.  Who's  there  that  knocketh  so  imperiously  ?  —  So  Theobald. 
The  old  text  has  knocks. 

P.  21.  We'll  burst  them  open,  if  you  come  not  quickly.  —  So  Pope. 
The  old  text  reads  "  Or  wee'le  burst  them  open,  if  that  you  come  not 
quickly." 

P.  24.  Come,  officer  ;  as  loud  as  e'er  thou  canst.  —  The  original  reads 
"  as  e'er  thou  canst,  cry  "  .•  where  cry  was  evidently  meant  as  a  stage- 
direction,  but  got  misprinted,  ut  scepe,  as  a  part  of  the  text. 

P.  24.  Gloster,  we'll  meet ;  to  thy  dear  cost,  be  sure. —  So  the  second 
folio.     The  first  lacks  dear. 

P.  24.   Abominable  Gloster  !  guard  thy  head; 

For  I  intend  to  have  it  off  ere  long.  —  So  Collier's  second  folio. 
The  old  copies  omit  off.  —  It  may  be  well  to  remark  here,  that  the 
Protector's  name  is  sometimes  two  syllables  and  sometimes  three, 
Gloster  and  Gloucester ;  and  that  I  print  it  Glottcester  where  the  verse 
requires  it  so,  though  in  the  original  it  is  uniformly  printed  Gloster. 

P.  24.  Good  God,  that  nobles  should  such  stomachs  bear !  —  So 
Rowe.     The  old  text  has  these  instead  of  that. 


Act  I.,  Scene  4. 

P.  25.    The  Prince's  'spials  have  informed  me 

How  th'  English,  in  the  suburbs  close  intrench'd. 
Wont,  through  a  secret  grate  of  iron  bars 

In  yonder  tower,  to  over  peer  the  city.  —  The  old  text  has  Went 
instead  of  Wont.     Corrected  bv  Tvrwhitt. 


Il8  KING    HENRY    VI.       PART    FIRST. 

P.  26.    The  Duke  of  Bedford  had  a  prisoner.  —  The  original  reads 
"  The  Earle  of  Bedford  " ;   an  obvious  error. 

P.  26.    Rather  than  I  would  be  so  v\\e-esteem'' d.  —  The  original  has 
"  be  so  piPd  esteem'd." 

P.  27.    Here,  through  this  secret  grate,  I  count  each  one. 

And  view  the  Frenchmen  how  they  fortify.  —  So  Dyce,  having 
in  view  the  previous  line,  "  Wont,  through  a  secret  grate  of  iron  bars," 
&c.  The  original  lacks  secret;  and  the  second  folio  completes  the 
verse  thus :   "  Here,  through  this  grate  I  can  count  every  one." 

P.  28.   Plantagenet,  I  will ;  and,  Nero-like, 

Play  on  the  lute,  beholding  the  towns  burn.  —  Here  Nero-like 
is  from  the  second  folio.  Instead  of  "  and,  Nero-like"  the  first  folio 
has  "  and  like  theeP     Walker  conjectures  "  and,  like  the  Roman." 

P.  29.    Convey  me  Salisbury  into  his  tent : 

Then  try  we  tvhat  these  dastard  Frenchmen  dare.  —  The  orig- 
inal reads  "And  then  wee'le  try  what."  The  reading  in  the  text  was 
proposed  by  Steevens.     Walker  proposes  "  And  then  try  what." 

Act  I.,  Scene  5. 

P.  30.    Go,  go  cheer  up  thy  hunger-starved  men.  —  The  original  has 
"  thy  /^««^rjj/-starved  men." 

P.  30.    Sheep  run  7iot  half  so  Wv!\oxo\x%  from  the  ivolf —  The  old  text 
has  treacherous  instead  oi  timorous,  which  is  Pope's  correction. 

P.  31.    Rescued  is  Orleans  from  the  English  wolves: 
Thus  yoatt  la  Puce  lie  hath  per  formal  her  luord. 

Char.    Divinest  creature,  bright  AstrcBo's  daughter. 
How  shall  I  honour  thee  for  this  success? — So  the   second 
folio.     The  original  lacks  wolves  in  the  first  line,  and  bright  in  the 
third.     Some    editors   still   follow   the  first  folio  on  the  ground  that 
English  and  creature  are  trisyllables  here. 

P.  31.     Why  ring  not  out  the  bells  throughout  the  town  ? 

Dauphin,  command  the  citizens  make  bonfires.  —  So  Pope. 
The  original  reads  "  Why  ring  not  out  the  Bells  alowd.  Throughout 
the  Towne  ?  " 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  IIQ 

P.  31.   A  statelier  pyramis  to  her  Fll  rear 

Than  Rhodope's  of  Memphis  ever  was. — The  old  text  reads 
"  Then  Rhodophe's  or  Memphis  ever  was."  The  correction  is  Capell's. 
I  suspect  it  should  be  "  Rhodope's  at  Memphis " ;  for,  in  fact,  Rho- 
dope  was  not  of  that  city,  but  of  Thrace.  Ritson  notes  upon  the  pas- 
sage thus :  "  The  meaning  is  —  not  that  Rhodope  herself  was  of 
Memphis,  but — that  her  pyramis  was  there.  'I  will  rear  to  her,' 
says  the  Dauphin,  'a  pyramid  more  stately  than  that  of  Memphis, 
which  was  called  Rhodope's.'  Pliny  says  the  pyramids  were  six  miles 
from  that  city ;  and  that  '  the  fairest  and  most  commended  for 
workmanship  was  built  at  the  cost  and  charges  of  one  Rhodope,  a  verie 
strumpet.'  "     See  foot-note  4. 

Act  II.,  Scene  i. 

P.  34.    Bed.    Agreed:  Fll  to yond  corner. 

Bur.  I  to  this. 

Tal.  And  here  will  Talbot  mount,  or  make  his  grave.  — The 
original  reads,  in  the  second  speech,  "And  I  to  this."  I  have  no 
doubt  that  And  is  an  interpolation,  as  Dyce  suggests.    Pope  omitted  it 

Act  II.,  Scene  4. 

P.  42.    Then  say  at  once  if  I  maintained  the  truth  ; 

Or,  else,  was  wrangling  Somerset  in  error  ?  —  The  original 
reads  "  in  tV  error."     See  foot-note  2. 

P.  44.    /  scorn  thee  and  thy  faction,  peevish  boy.  —  The  ori^nal  has 
fashion  instead  olfaction.     Corrected  by  Theobald. 

P.  47.    Thanks,  gentle  sir.  —  So  the  second  folio.     The   first  lacks 


Act  II.,  Scene  5. 

P.  48.   Richard  Plantagenet,  friend,  is  he  come  ?  —  The  original  has 
"  Plantagenet,  my  friend."     Corrected  by  Hanmer. 

P.  49.   I  will,  if  that  my  failing  breath  permit. —  So  Walker.     The 
old  copies  have  "  my  yJz^tVtg' breath." 


I20  KING    HENRY    VI.       PART    FIRST. 

P.  49.   Henry  the  Fourth,  grandfather  to  this  King, 

Deposed  his  cousin  Richard.  —  The  old  copies  have  "  his 
nephew  Richard."  Some  modern  editors  retain  the  old  reading  on  the 
ground  of  nephew  having  been  sometimes  used  for  cousin.  Rowe's 
correction. 

P.  52.   Either  to  be  restored  to  my  blood. 

Or  viake  my  ill  tK  advantage  of  my  good. —  So  Theobald.  The 
original  has  will  instead  of  ill. 

Act  III.,  Scene  i. 

P.  54.   Am  I  not  Lord  Protector,  saucy  priest? —  So  Walker.     The 
old  text  omits  Lord. 

P.  54.   Win.   This  Rome  shall  remedy. 

War.  Roam  thither,  then. 

Som.   My  lord,  it  were  your  duty  to  forbear. 

War.    Ay,  see  the  bishop  be  not  overborne. 

Som.  Methinks  my  lord  should  be  religious,  &c.  —  So  Theo- 
bald. In  the  old  text,  the  first  of  these  speeches  reads  "  Rome  shall 
remedie  this^  Also,  the  third  speech  is  printed  as  a  continuation  of 
the  second,  and  the  fifth  as  a  continuation  of  the  fourth,  with  the  pre- 
fix "  Som." 

P.  56.    We,  and  our  wives  and  children,  all  will  fight. 

And  leave  our  bodies  slaughtered  by  thy  foes.  —  So  Walker.  The 
old  text  reads  "  And  have  our  bodies  slaughter'd." 

P.  56.   My  Lord  Protector,  yield; — yield,  Winchester.  —  The   old 
text  reads  "  Yeeld  my  Lord  Protector."     Pope's  correction. 

P.  58.    If  Richard  will  be  true,  not  that  alone. 

But  all  the  whole  inheritance  I  give,  &c.  —  So  the  second  foHo. 
The  first  has  "  not  that  all  alone  ";  the  word  all  having  no  doubt  been 
repeated  by  mistake  from  the  next  line. 

P.  58.    Thy  humble  servant  vows  obedience 

And  faithful  service  till  the  point  of  death.  —  So  Pope.  The 
old  text  has  "And  humble  service";  doubtless  another  accidental 
repetition. 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  121 


Act  III.,  Scene  2. 

P.  60.   Noru)  she  is  there,  htrw  will  she  specify 

Where  is  the  best  and  safest  passage  in  ?  —  The  old  text  has 
Here  instead  of  Where.     Corrected  by  Rowe. 

P.  63.    Captains,  away  !  lets  get  us  from  the  -walls  ; 
For  Talbot  means  no  goodness  by  his  looks.  — 
God  b"  wT,  my  lord  !  we  came  up  but  to  tell  you 
That  we  are  here.  —  In  the  first  of  these  lines,  the  original 
reads  Away,  Captaines,  and,  in  the  third,  "  we  came  but  to  tell  you  " ; 
where  both  sense  and  metre  require  "came  «/."     The  second  folio 
reads  "  we  came,  sir,  but  to  tell  you " ;  which  answers  for  the  metre, 
but  not  for  the  sense  ;   for  the  meaning  required  is,  not  that  we  came 
to  the  place,  but  that  we  came  upon  the  walls.     The  insertion  of  up  is 
Lettsom's. 

P.  64.    Let  Heavens  have  glory  for  this  victory  ! —  So  Dyce.     The 
old  text  has  Yet  instead  of  Let. 

Act  III.,  Scene  3. 

P.  67.    As  looks  the  mother  on  her  lovely  babe.  —  So  Warburton  and 
Collier's  second  folio.     The  old  text  has  "  her  lorwly  babe." 

Act  III.,  Scene  4. 

P.  69.    Is  this  Lord  Talbot,  uncle  Gloucester?  —  The  old  text  reads 
"  Is  this  the  Lord  Talbot." 

Act  IV.,  Scene  1. 

P.  72.    This  dastard,  at  the  battle  of  Patay,  &c.  — So  Capell.     The 
original  has  "  battle  of  Poictiers.'^ 

P.  73.    Or  doth  this  churlish  superscription 

Portend  j<7»i<f  alteration  in  good-will?  —  So  Walker  and  Col- 
lier's second  folio.    The  old  text  has  Pretend  instead  of  Portend.    The 
Poet  often  uses  pretend  for  intend  or  design  ;  but  that  sense  does  not 
^     aiiswer  hcr^. 


122  KING    HENRY    VI.       PART    FIRST. 

P.  73.  My  lord,  how  say  you  ?  are  you  not  content  ?  —  So  Pope. 
The  old  text  reads  "  How  say  you,  my  lord  ?  " 

P.  77.    An  if  I  wist  he  did,  —  but  let  it  rest  ; 

Other   affairs   must   now   he  managed. — The  old  text  reads 
"And  if  I  wish  he  did."     Corrected  by  Capell. 

P.  77.  But  that  he  doth  presage  some  ill  event.  —  The  old  text  has 
"  But  that  it  doth  presage."     Corrected  by  Rowe. 

P.  77.  Thence  comes  the  ruin,  there  begins  confusion. — The  origi- 
nal reads  "  There  comes  the  ruin,"  and  the  second  folio  changes  There 
to  Then.     The  reading  in  the  text  is  Walker's. 

Act  IV.,  ScKNE  2. 

P.  78.  If  you  forsake  the  offer  of  our  love.  —  So  Hanmer.  The 
original  has  "  offer  of  their  love."     The  context  clearly  requires  our. 

Act  IV.,  Scene  4. 

P.  82.    Som.    Hotv  now.  Sir  William  !  whither  were  you  sent? 

Lucy.  Hither,  my  lord ;  &c.  —  The  old  text  has  Whither 
instead  of  Hither  ;  clearly  an  accidental  repetition  from  the  line  before. 
Corrected  by  Pope. 

P.  83.  To  beat  assailing  death  from  his  weak  legions.  —  The  origi- 
nal has  "  from  his  weak  /i^egions."  The  same  misprint  occurs  repeat- 
edly.    Rowe's  correction. 

P.  83.   And  tuhiles  the  honourable  captain  there 

Drops  bloody  sweat  from  his  war-%uearied  limbs. 
And,  in  disvantage  lingering,  looks  for  rescue,  &c. — The  old 
text  has  "  in  advantage  lingring."     The  correction  is  Lettsom's.     See 
foot-note  2. 

P.  83.    Orleans  the  Bastard,  Charles  and  Burgundy, 

Alen^on,   Reignier,  compass  him   about,  &c.  —  So  the  second 
folio.     The  first  lacks  and  in  the  first  line. 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  123 

P.  83.    And  York  as  fast  upon  your  Grace  exclaims. 

Swearing  that  you  withhold  his  levied  Horse.  —  The  original 
has  hoast  instead  of  Horse,  which  the  next  speech  shows  to  be  right. 
Corrected  by  Hanmer,  on  l"heobald's  conjecture. 


Act  IV.,  Scene  5. 

P.  85.     You  fled  for  vantage,  every  one  will  swear  ; 

But,  if  I  fly,  they'll  say  it  was  for  fear.  —  So  Collier's  second 
folio.     The  old  text  has  "if  I  3i?zi/."     Walker  proposes  "  if  I ^ff." 

P.  85.   No  part  of  him  but  will  be  shamed  in  me.  —  The  old  text  has 
ihame  instead  of  shamed.     Corrected  by  Walker. 


Act  IV.,  Scene  7. 

P.  88.     When  he  perceived  me  shrink  and  on  my  knee. 

His  bloody  sword  he  brandished  over  me.  —  Lettsom  proposes 
to  read  "  perceived  me  sinking  on  my  knee."     Rightly,  I  suspect. 

P.  90.    Herald,  conduct  me  to  the  Dauphin's  tent. 

Who  hath  obtained  the  glory  of  the  day.  —  In  the  original  the 
second  of  these  lines  reads  "  To  know  who  hath  obtain'd  the  glory  of 
the  day."  But  the  context  clearly  implies  that  the  speaker  already 
^  knew  this.  And  in  the  fourth  line  after,  the  same  speaker  says,  "  I 
come  to  knoio  what  prisoners  thou  hast  ta^en."  Hanmer  reads  as  in 
the  text. 

P.  91.    But  tell  me  whom  thou  seek^sf. 

Lucy.  Where  is  the  great  Alcides  of  the  field  ? —Ta^  original 
has  "But  Where's  the  great  Alcides,"  &c.;  ^«/ being  evidently  re- 
peated by  mistake  from  the  preceding  line.     Corrected  by  Rowe. 

P.  92.    Bid  doubt  not  from  their  ashes  shall  be  rear'd 

A  phoenix  that  shall  make  all  France  afeard.  —  The  original 
reads  "  but  from  their  ashes,"  &c.  Pope  fills  up  the  verse  thus  :  "But 
from  their  ashes,  Dauphin^'  &c.;  Collier's  second  folio  thus  :  "But 
from  their  very  ashes,"  &c.  The  reading  in  the  text  is  Lettsom's.  It 
is  not  easy  to  choose  between  this  and  Pope's. 


124  KING    HENRY    VI        PART    FIRST, 

P.  92.    So  we  be  rid  of  them,  do  what  thou  wilt.  —  The  old  text  has 
"  do  with  hifti  what  thou  wilt."     Pope's  correction. 

Act  v.,  Scene  i. 

P.  93.  The  Earl  of  A  r  magna  c  —  near  kin  to  Charles — 
Proffers  his  only  daughter  to  your  Grace, 

In  marriage,  with  a  large  and  sumptuous  dower.  —  In  the 
first  of  these  lines  the  old  text  has  knit  instead  of  kin.  Corrected  by 
Pope.  Also,  in  the  third,  Dowrie  instead  of  dower.  Corrected  by 
Walker. 

Act  v.,  Scene  3. 

P.  96.    This  speed   and  quick  appearance  argues  proof,  &c.  —  So 
Walker.     The  old  text  has  "  This  speedy  and  quick  appearance." 

P.  96.    Now,  ye  familiar  spirits,  that  are  culVd 
Out  of  the  powerful  legions  under  earth. 

Help  me  this  once.  —  The  original  has  Regions  instead  of  legions. 
The  same  misprint  occurs  once  before  in  this  play,  iv.  4 :  "To  beate 
assayling  death  from  his  weake  Regions." 

P.  97.    For  I  will  touch  thee  but  with  reverent  hands. 
And  lay  them  gently  on  thy  tender  side. 

I  kiss  these  fingers  for  eternal  peace.  —  So  Capell.  In  the  old 
text  the  last  two  of  these  lines  are  transposed. 

P.  98.    So  doth  the  stvan  her  downy  cygnets  save, 

Keeping  them  prisoners  underneath  her  wings.  —  The  original 
has  "  Keeping  them  prisoner  underneath  his  wings."  Corrected  in  the 
second  and  third  folios. 

P.  98    Hast  not  a  tongue  ?  is  she  not  here  thy  captive  ? 

Wilt  thou  be  daunted  at  a  woman's  sight  ? 

Ay,  beauty s  princely  majesty  is  such. 

Confounds  the  tongue,  and  makes  the  senses  crouch. —  In  the 
first  of  these  lines,  the  words  thy  captive  are  wanting  in  the  original. 
They,  or  something  equivalent  to  them,  are  plainly  needful  to  the 
sense.  The  second  folio  adds  thy  prisoner ;  which  gives  the  same 
sense,  but  overfills  the  verse.  Besides,  we  have,  within  a  few  lines, 
"thou  art  my  prisoner,"  and  "I  am  thy  prisoner." — Again,  in  the 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  125 

fourth  line,  the  old  text  reads  "  makes  the  senses  rough  " ;  which  is 
stark  nonsense.  The  correction  in  the  text  is  Hanmer's,  and  accords 
very  well  with  the  context.  Dyce  quotes  a  similar  expression  from 
Byron's  Island  :  "  How  every  sense  bows  to  your  beauties^ 

P.  loo.    Suf.    I  pr'ythee,  lady,  wherefore  talk  you  so? 

Mar.  /  cry  you  mercy  ;  'tis  but  quid  for  quo. — The  words  / 
pry  thee  are  wanting  in  the  original.  As  a  rhyming  couplet  was  evi- 
dently intended,  there  should  of  course  be  no  such  gap  in  the  line. 
Capell  reads  "  A'ay,  hear  me,  lady  "  ;  Colher's  second  folio,  "  Lady, 
pray  tell  me."  Either  of  these  might  answer  as  well  as  that  in  the 
text ;  which  is  Dyce's  reading. 

P.  lOO.   Suf.   /'//  undertake  to  make  thee  Henry's  Queen  ; 
And  set  a  precious  crown  upon  thy  head. 
If  thou  wilt  condescend  to  — 

Mar.  What? 

Suf.  His  love.  —  In  the  third  of 

these  lines,  the  original  reads  "  If  thou  wilt  condescend  to  be  my — ." 
But  the  context  clearly  shows  the  words  be  my  to  be  an  interpolation. 
The  reading  in  the  text  was  proposed  by  Steevens. 

P.  loi.  And  here,  my  lord,  /  7mll  expect  thy  coming.  —  So  Dyce. 
The  words  my  lord  are  wanting  in  the  original.  A  few  lines  before, 
Suffolk  has  addressed  Reignier,  "  Yes,  there  is  remedy  enough,  my 
lord." 

P.  loi.    Upon  condition  I  may  quietly 

Enjoy  mine  own,  the  counties  Maine  and  Anjou.  — The  old 
text  has  "  the  Country  Maine  and  Anjou."     Theobald's  correction. 

P.  103.   Bethink  thee  on  her  virtues  that  surmount. 

And  natural  graces  that  extinguish  art.  —  So  Capell.     The  old 
text  has  Mad  instead  of  And. 


Act  v.,  Scene  4. 

P.  104.    First,  let  me  tell  you  whom  you  have  condemned  : 
Not  one  begotten  of  a  shepherd  swain. 

But  issued  from  the  progeny  of  kings.  —  The  old  text  reads 
"Not  me  begotten,"  &c.     An  obvious  error,  hardly  worth  noting. 


126  KING    HENRY    VI.       PART    FIRST. 

P.  105.   No,  misconceivers  !    "jfoan  of  Arc  hath  been 

A  virgin  from  her  tender  infancy.  —  The  old  text  has  miscon- 
ceived instead  of  misconceivers. 

P.  105.  Well,  vfQW,  go  to ;  iveUlhave  no  bastards  live. — So  Capell 
and  Walker.     The  old  text  reads  "  Well,  go  to,"  &c. 

P.  107.    Speak,  Winchester  ;  for  boiling  choler  chokes 

The  hollow  passage  of  my  prison'd  voice.  — The  original  has 
"  my  poyson'd  voyce."     Corrected  by  Theobald. 

P.  108.  Must  he  be,  then,  a  shadow  of  himself  ? — The  old  text  has 
"  Must  he  be  then  as  shadow."     Corrected  in  the  fourth  folio. 

Act  v..  Scene  5. 

P.  III.  O,  yes,  my  lord,  her  father  is  a  king.  — So  Dyce.  The  orig- 
inal lacks  O,  at  the  beginning  of  this  line.  The  second  folio  com- 
pletes the  metre  by  printing  "  Yes,  my  good  lord." 

P.  III.  But  marriage  is  a  matter  of  more  worth,  &c.  —  So  the 
second  folio.     The  first  omits  But. 

P.  III.    And  therefore,  lords,  since  he  affects  her  most. 
It  most  of  all  these  reasons  bindeth  us. 

In  our  opinions  she  should  be  prefer r\l.  —  The  original  lacks 
It  in  the  second  line.     Supplied  by  Rowe. 

P.  112.  Will  answer  hope  in  issue  of  a  king.  — So  Steevens  and 
Lettsom.     The  old  text  has  "  Will  answer  our  hope." 

P.  112.    That  Lady  Margaret  do  vouchsafe  to  come 

Across  the  seas  to  England,  &c.  —  So  Walker.     The  old  text 
reads  "  To  cross  the  seas." 


KING    HENRY   VI.      PART   SECOND. 


I 


NEVER  printed  that  we  know  of,  with  its  present  title  or  in 
its  present  form,  till  in  the  folio  of  1623.  The  folio  copy, 
however,  is  but  an  alteration  and  enlargement  of  an  earlier  form, 
which  was  published  in  quarto  in  1594,  and  entitled  The  First 
Part  of  tiie  Contention  betwixt  the  two  famous  Houses  of  York 
and  Lancaster .  No  author's  name  is  there  given,  nor  is  it  stated 
by  what  company  the  play  had  been  performed.  And  the  facts 
touching  The  Third  Part  of  King  Henry  the  Sixth  are  so  nearly 
the  same,  that  it  seems  best  to  speak  of  the  two  together.  This, 
also,  as  given  in  the  folio,  is  but  an  alteration  and  improvement 
of  an  earlier  form,  which  was  issued  in  1595,  in  quarto,  and  en- 
titled The  True  Tragedy  of  Richard  Duke  of  York.  In  this  case, 
however,  the  name  or  title  of  the  company  is  given :  "  As  it  was 
sundr}'  times  acted  by  the  Right-Honourable  the  Earl  of  Pem- 
broke's Servants."  Both  pieces  were  issued  again  in  1600,  the 
text,  the  tides,  and  the  publisher  being  all  the  same  as  in  the 
former.  A  third  edition  of  both  plays  was  put  forth  by  another 
publisher  in  1619,  in  the  title-page  of  which  *'  William  Shake- 
speare "  is  printed  as  the  name  of  the  author.  It  is  not  to  be 
supposed  that  either  the  withholding  of  the  author's  name  in  the 
first  two  issues,  or  the  giving  of  it  in  the  third,  proves  any  thing 
as  to  the  real  authorship  one  way  or  the  other :  for,  on  the  one 
hand,  several  of  Shakespeare's  plays  were  first  issued  without  his 
name,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  his  name  was  repeatedly  given  in 
the  case  of  plays  that  he  had  no  hand  in  writing. 

For  convenience  of  thought  and  language,  I  shall  henceforth 
designate  Tlu  First  Part  of  the  Contention  and  The  True  Tragedy 
as  the  quarto  editions  of  The  Second  and  Third  Parts  of  King 
Henry  tJie  Si^th.  For,  in  these  plays  as  given  in  the  folio,  with 
a  few  trifling  exceptions  the  entire  plan,  arrangement,  concep>- 


128  KING    HENRY    VI.       PART    SECOND. 

tion,  character,  and  more  than  half  the  language  word  for  word, 
are  all  the  same  as  in  the  corresponding  earlier  editions.  Mr. 
Grant  White,  in  his  Essay  on  the  Authorship  of  King  Henry  the 
Sixth,  has  elaborated  the  theme  with  great  minuteness  and  care  ; 
and  his  account  of  the  matter  foots  up  as  follows :  The  Second 
Part  contains  3057  lines,  of  which  1479  are  adopted  or  altered 
from  the  quarto,  thus  leaving  1578  lines  as  original  in  the  folio; 
while  the  Third  Part  has  2879  lines,  of  which  193 1  are  adopted 
or  altered  from  the  quarto  ;  so  that  here  we  have  but  948  new  lines 
in  the  folio.  Or,  taking  the  two  Parts  together,  we  have  in  all 
5936  lines,  of  which  only  2526  are  new  in  the  folio,  thus  leaving 
3410,  or  nearly  two  thirds  of  the  whole,  as  adopted  or  altered 
from  the  quartos.  And  of  the  alterations  a  large  part,  certainly 
not  less  than  half,  are  very  slight,  often  not  going  beyond  a 
change  of  epithet  or  a  verbal  transposition,  and  nowise  effecting 
the  sense.  In  many  cases,  moreover,  the  folio  presents  a  judi- 
cious elaboration  and  expansion  of  old  thoughts,  with  little  or  no 
addition  of  new  ones.  In  the  Second  Part,  again,  the  alterations 
and  additions  are  in  the  main  diffused  pretty  equally  through  the 
whole  play ;  while  in  the  Third  Part  the  additions  come  much 
more  in  large  masses,  some  entire  scenes  being  mostly  new  in  the 
folio,  and  others  nearly  the  same  as  in  the  quarto.  All  together, 
therefore,  it  may  be  safely  affirmed,  that  of  the  two  plays  the 
whole  conception  and  more  than  half  the  execution  are  precisely 
the  same  in  the  quarto  and  folio  copies. 

This  brings  me  to  the  question  of  the  authorship  of  the  two 
plays  as  printed  in  1594  and  1595.  And  here,  again,  as  in  case 
of  the  First  Part,  we  have  a  wide  diversity  of  opinions.  Stated 
in  the  briefest  terms,  one  theory  is,  that  Shakespeare  had  no 
hand  at  all  in  the  original  composition ;  another,  that  he  was  the 
sole  author  of  the  plays  in  their  original  form  ;  while  a  third 
finds  them  to  be  the  joint  workmanship  of  Shakespeare,  Robert 
Greene,  and  Christopher  Marlowe.  These  theories  have  each 
their  advocates,  who  support  them  with  a  formidable  array  of 
arguments ;  Malone  being  the  principle  one  for  the  first.  Knight 
for  the  second,  and  Grant  White  for  the  third.  The  arguments, 
even  in  the  briefest  possible  statement  of  them,  would  stretch 
far  beyond  my  present  limits  :  so  that  I  can  do  little  more  than 


KING    HENRY    VI.       PART    SECOND.  1 29 

set  forth  the  conclusion  I  have  reached  upon  the  whole  matter. 
As  1  have  no  fourth  theory  to  offer,  nor  any  ambition  to  ex- 
cogitate one,  I  am  content  to  tie  up  substantially  with  Mr. 
White :  That  the  two  plays  were  originally  written  conjointly  by 
Greene,  Marlowe,  and  Shakespeare,  the  latter  doing  much  the 
larger  portion ;  that  afterwards,  for  reasons  unknown  to  us, 
Shakespeare  rewrote  them,  throwing  out  most  of  what  the  other 
two  had  contributed,  and  replacing  it  with  his  own  matter,  and 
otherwise  improving  them  ;  that  this  joint  authorship  was  the 
reason  of  no  authors  name  being  given  in  the  first  two  editions ; 
and  that  Greene's  share  in  them,  perhaps  Marlowe^s  also,  suf- 
ficiently accounts  for  the  use  made  of  them,  or  of  one  of  them,  by 
"the  Earl  of  Pembroke's  Servants,"  a  theatrical  company  with 
which  Shakespeare  is  not  known  or  believed  to  have  had  any 
connection. 

Mr.  White,  I  think,  clearly  and  conclusively  identifies  several 
passages,  one  of  them  extending  to  twenty  consecutive  lines,  in 
the  quarto  form  of  these  plays,  as  the  workmanship  of  Greene ; 
which  passages  are  entirely  excluded  from  the  folio  copy.  This 
identification  proceeds  chiefly  by  means  of  a  certain  trick  or 
mannerism,  perhaps  I  should  say  vulgarism,  of  style,  as  in  the 
line,  "  And  chann  the  fitnds  for  to  obey  your  wills,*'  which  occurs 
repeatedly  in  the  quartos,  but  not  once  in  the  folio :  and  instances 
of  which  abound  in  Greene's  acknowledged  works.  What  with 
this,  and  what  with  two  or  three  other  little  idioms  of  manner, 
Mr.  White,  it  seems  to  me,  leaves  no  room  for  doubt  that  Greene 
had  a  hand  in  the  original  writing  of  the  plays.  He  also  urges, 
and,  I  think,  proves,  that  the  quarto  form  has  a  great  many 
passages,  some  of  them  including  from  fifty  to  a  hundred  succes- 
sive lines,  which,  while  confessedly  far  beyond  the  reach  of 
Greene,  are  at  the  same  time  so  different,  in  style,  imagery,  and 
conception,  from  all  that  Marlowe  is  known  to  have  produced 
before  that  time,  that  no  one,  with  the  matter  fairly  in  his  eye, 
could  think  of  ascribing  them  to  him.  I  say  before  that  time, 
because,  as  we  shall  presently  see,  the  original  form  of  the  plays 
now  in  hand  must  have  been  in  being  before  1592;  whereas 
Marlowe's  Edward  the  Second,  which  is  much  the  best  of  his 
plays,  was  in  all  probability  of  later  production,  nothing  being 


I30  KING   HENRY   VI.      PART    SECOND. 

heard  of  it  till  July,  1593  :  so  that  while  writing  it  the  influence, 
or  the  inspiration,  of  Shakespeare  may  well  be  supposed  to  have 
been  something  strong  upon  him ;  there  being  withal  only  two 
months'  difference  in  their  ages. 

Matters,  I  believe,  are  now  ready  for  what  may  be  justly 
regarded  as  the  most  important  item  of  evidence  that  has  come 
down  to  us  touching  this  question.  —  Greene,  after  a  brief  bad 
life,  died,  forsaken,  repentant,  and  miserable,  at  the  house  of  a 
poor  shoemaker  in  London'  on  the  3d  of  September,  1592.  It 
appears  that  his  latest  work  was  in  writing  a  pamphlet  entitled 
A  Groatsworth  of  Wit  bought  with  a  Million  of  Repe7itaiice , 
which,  soon  after  his  death,  was  given  to  the  public  by  Henry 
Chettle.  Near  the  close  of  this  tract,  Greene  makes  an  Address 
"  to  those  Gentlemen  his  quondam  acquaintance,  that  spend 
their  wits  in  making  plays."  The  names  of  these  "  gentlemen  " 
are  not  mentioned,  but  are  well  understood  to  be  Christopher 
Marlowe,  Thomas  Lodge,  and  George  Peele,  all  popular  play- 
wrights of  the  time.  After  exhorting  each  of  them  in  turn,  he 
proceeds  with  the  following  addressed  to  the  three  in  common : 

"  Base-minded  men  all  three  of  you,  if  by  my  misery  ye  be  not 
warned :  for  unto  none  of  you,  like  me,  sought  those  burs  to 
cleave ;  those  puppets,  I  mean,  that  speak  from  our  mouths, 
those  antics  garnish'd  in  our  colours.  Is  it  not  strange  that  I  to 
whom  they  all  have  been  beholding,  is  it  not  like  that  you  to 
whom  they  all  have  been  beholding,  shall,  were  ye  in  that  case 
that  I  am  now,  be  both  of  them  at  once  forsaken?  Yes,  trust 
them  not ;  for  there  is  an  upstart  crow  beautified  with  our 
feathers,  that,  with  his  tiger's  heart  wrapt  in  a  player''s  hide,  sup- 
poses he  is  as  well  able  to  bombast  out  a  blank-verse  as  the  best 
of  you,  and,  being  an  absolute  Johanties  Factotutn,  is,  in  his  own 
conceit,  the  only  Shake-scene  in  a  country.  O,  that  I  might 
entreat  your  rare  wits  to  be  employed  in  more  profitable  courses, 
and  let  these  apes  imitate  your  past  excellence,  and  never  more 
acquaint  them  with  your  admired  inventions  !  " 

It  is  well  understood  on  all  hands,  that  the  words  upstart  crow 
and  Shake-scene  refer  to  Shakespeare.  And  it  is  evident  that 
this  spiteful  squib,  while  touching  others  only  as  players,  was 
meant  to  hit  him  both  as  a  player  and  as  a  writer.     For,  as  the 


KING    HENRY    VI.       PART    SECOND.  I3I 

three  whom  Greene  is  exhorting  are  regarded  only  as  authors  of 
plays,  so  what  is  said  about  "  bombasting  out  a  blank-verse'' 
must  refer  to  Shakespeare  as  an  author.  Now  it  is  generally 
admitted  that  Marlowe  was  the  first  to  make  use  of  blank- verse  in 
dramatic  composition  for  the  public  stage.  So  that  a  part  of  the 
slur  on  Shakespeare  is,  that  he  is  rivalling  or  tr}ing  to  rival 
Marlowe  in  this  his  most  judicious  and  most  fruitfiil  innovation. 
And  the  words  "  beautified  with  our  feathers  "  naturally  infer  the 
charge  upon  Shakespeare  of  having  stealthily  enriched  or  adorned 
his  workmanship  as  an  author  fi-om  what  Greene  and  Marlowe 
had  written.  And  all  this  meaning  is  aptly  driven  home  and 
clinched  by  the  parody  of  one  of  Shakespeare's  own  lines  in  The 
Third  Part  of  King  Henry  the  Sixth,  i.  4,  "  O,  tiger's  heart 
wrapp'd  in  a  woman  s  hide ! "  which  would  naturally  suggest  the 
plays  now  in  hand  as  the  particular  matter  wherein  the  writer 
supposed  himself  to  have  been  wronged.  And  with  all  this  agrees 
a  passage  in  a  tract  called  Greene's  Funerals,  1594: 

Nay,  more ;  the  men  that  so  eclipsed  his  feme 
Purloin  d  his  plumes  ;  can  they  deny  the  same  ? 

So  that  my  conclusion  upon  the  whole  subject  is  this :  That 
as  early,  perhaps,  as  1590,  Shakespeare,  in  conjunction  with 
Greene  and  Marlowe,  had  written  the  original  form  of  the  two 
plays  in  question ;  and  that  some  time  before  Greene's  death  he 
had  withdrawn  from  all  partnership  or  joint  authorship  with  those 
worthies,  and  had  rewritten  the  plays  into  the  form  they  now 
bear,  throwing  out  the  most  of  what  the  others  had  done,  but 
retaining  or  slightly  altering  more  or  less  of  their  work ;  enough 
to  give  some  colour  at  least  to  the  charge  of  having  beautified 
himself  with  their  feathers.  I  think  this  view  fairly  meets  all  the 
known  facts  and  all  the  clear  aspects  of  the  case,  and  that  it  is 
the  only  one  at  all  reconcilable  with  the  poetical  and  dramatic 
characteristics  of  the  plays  in  their  later  form,  both  in  themselves 
and  as  compared  with  the  same  in  their  earlier  form. 

The  action  of  this  play  extends  from  the  arrival  of  Queen 
Margaret  in  England,  May,  1445,  till  the  first  battle  of  St. 
Alban's,  May,  1455.  Except  in  one  instance,  the  leading  events 
of  the  drama  come  along  in  their  actual  order.     That  exception  is 


132  KING    HENRY    VI.       PART    SECOND, 

the  proceedings  in  the  case  of  Dame  Eleanor,  which  really  oc- 
curred several  years  before  the  opening  of  the  play.  Her  crime 
and  disgrace,  however,  are  properly  represented  here,  as  they 
had  a  large  share  in  bringing  about  the  fall  of  her  husband,  while 
his  fall  had  in  turn  much  to  do  in  kindling  the  fierce  domestic 
wars  that  form  the  main  subject  of  this  and  the  following  play. 
Besides,  the  matter  in  question  furnishes  occasion  for  a  most 
characteristic  passage  between  the  Duchess  and  the  Queen, 
though  in  fact  they  never  met ;  thus  giving  an  early  taste  of  the 
haughty  and  vindictive  temper,  the  indomitable  energy,  and  the 
fire-spouting  tongue,  which  marked  the  whole  course  of  Margaret, 
fitting  her  to  be,  as  in  truth  she  was,  the  constant  provoker  and 
stirrer-up  of  hatreds  and  strifes. 

In  all  other  points  the  opening  of  the  present  play  takes  up  the 
thread  of  history  precisely  where  it  was  left  at  the  close  of  the 
First  Part.  And  the  proceedings  of  the  Second  Part,  in  the 
main,  grow  forth  naturally  and  in  course  from  the  principles  of 
the  First ;  the  two  plays  being  as  closely  interwoven  as  any  two 
Acts  of  either.  The  passages  of  humour  interspersed  through 
the  scenes  of  Cade  and  his  followers  are  nearly  the  same  in  the 
quarto  form  of  the  play  as  in  the  folio.  As  these  abound  in  the 
right  Shakespeare  flavour,  it  is  out  of  the  question  for  Greene  or 
Marlowe  to  have  written  them,  neither  of  whom  seems  to  have 
had  any  humour  at  all  in  his  composition.  And  it  is  remarkable 
that  the  strong  instinct  and  impulse  of  humour  seem  in  this  case 
to  have  put  the  Poet  upon  blending  together  the  elements  of  two 
widely-separated  passages  of  history ;  the  persons  and  events  being 
those  of  the  insurrection  known  as  Jack  Cade's,  while  the  senti- 
ments and  designs  are  the  same,  in  part,  as  became  matter  of 
history  some  seventy  years  before  in  the  rebellion  of  Wat  Tyler 
and  Jack  Straw.  After  the  quelling  of  Cade's  insurrection, 
which  was  in  July,  1450,  the  Poet  overleaps  the  events,  with 
one  exception,  of  more  than  four  years,  and  enters  upon  the  pre- 
liminaries of  the  battle  of  St.  Alban's,  which  was  the  first  ripe 
fulfilment  of  the  presage  and  promise  given  out  far  back  in  the 
scene  of  the  Temple  Garden,  and  the  forethought  of  which  is 
more  or  less  apparent  in  the  whole  preceding  matter  of  the 
dramatic  series. 


Glo.     "  Be  patient,  gentle  Nell ;  forget  this  grief." 
Duch.    "  Ah,  Gloster,  teach  me  to  forg3t  myself  !  " 


Henry  VI.     Part  2.     Act  2,  Scene  4. 


Page  175. 


KING    HENRY   VI.      PART   SECOND. 


PERSONS   REPRESENTED. 


King  Henry  the  Sixth. 
Humphrey,  Duke  of  Gloster. 
Henry  Beaufort,  Cardinal. 
Richard  Plantagenet,  Duke  of 

York. 
Edward  and  Richard,  his  Sons. 


Vau.k.    Matthew  Gough. 
Two  Gentlemen,  Prisoners  with  Suf- 
folk. 
Hume  and  Southwell.  Priests. 
BoLINGBROKE,  a  Conjurer. 
I  A  Spirit  raised  by  him. 


Edmund  Beaufort,  Duke  of  Som-   Thomas  Horner,  an  Armourer. 


Lancas- 
trians. 


York- 


his  Follow- 
ers. 


erset. 

Pole,  Duke  of  Suffolk, 

Stafford,  Duke  of  Buck- 
ingham, 

Thomas  Lord  Clifford, 

John  Clifford,  his  Son,  . 

Neville,  Earl  of  Salisburj', 

His  Son,  Earl  of  Warwick,  I     '^^^■ 

Lord  Saw 

Lord  Scales,  Governor  of  Tower. 

Sir  Humphrey  Stafford. 

William,  his  Brother. 

Sir  John  Stanley. 

Walter  Whitmore. 

A  Sea-Captain,  Master,  and  Master's 
Mate. 

Lords,  Ladies,  and  Attendants ;  a  Herald ;  Petitioners,  Aldermen,  a  Bea- 
dle, Sheriff,  and  Officers ;  Citizens,  Prentices,  Falconers,  Guards,  Soldiers, 
Messengers,  &c. 

Scene.  —  In  variaus  parts  of  England. 


Peter,  his  Man. 
Clerk  of  Chatham. 
Mayor  of  St.  Albans. 
Simpcox,  an  Imposter. 
Two  Murderers. 
Jack  Cade,  a  Rebel. 
George,  John,  Dick, 
Michael,  Smith  the 

Weaver,  and  Others. 
Ale.xander  Iden,  a  Kentish  Gen 

tleman. 

Margaret,  Queen  to  Henry  VL 
Eleanor,  Duchess  of  Gloster. 
M.\RGERY  JOURDAIN,  a  Witch. 
Wife  to  Simpcox. 


ACT   I. 


Scene  I.  —  London.     A  Rootn  of  State  in  the  Palace. 

Flourish  of  trumpets  :  then  hautboys.    Enter,  on  one  side.  King 
Henry,  the  Duke  ^Gloster,  S-ausbOry,  Warwick,  and 


134  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  i. 

Cardinal  Beaufort  ;  on  the  other,  Queen  Margaret,  led 
in  by  Suffolk  ;  York,  Somerset,  Buckingham,  and  others 
following. 

Suf.    As  by  your  high  imperial  Majesty 
I  had  in  charge  at  my  depart  for  France, 
As  procurator  to  your  Excellence, 
To  marry  Princess  Margaret  for  your  Grace  ; 
So,  in  the  famous  ancient  city  Tours, 
In  presence  of  the  Kings  of  France  and  Sicil, 
The  Dukes  of  Orleans,  Calaber,  Bretagne,  and  Alen^on, 
Seven  earls,  twelve  barons,  and  twenty  reverend  bishops, 
I  did  perform  my  task,  and  was  espoused  : 
And  humbly  now,  upon  my  bended  knee. 
In  sight  of  England  and  her  lordly  peers, 
Deliver  up  my  title  in  the  Queen 
To  your  most  gracious  hands,  that  are  the  substance 
Of  that  great  shadow  I  did  represent ; 
The  happiest  gift  that  ever  marquess  gave, 
The  fairest  queen  that  ever  king  received. 

King.    Suffolk,  arise.  —  Welcome,  Queen  Margaret : 
I  can  express  no  kinder  sign  of  love 
Than  this  kind  kiss.  —  O  Lord,  that  lends  me  life. 
Lend  me  a  heart  replete  with  thankfulness  ! 
For  Thou  hast  given  me,  in  this  beauteous  face, 
A  world  of  earthly  blessings  to  my  soul. 
If  sympathy  of  love  unite  our  thoughts. 

Queen.    Great  King  of  England,  and  my  gracious  lord, 
The  mutual  conference  that  my  mind  hath  had. 
By  day,  by  night,  waking  and  in  my  dreams. 
In  courtly  company  or  at  my  beads. 
With  you,  mine  alder-liefest  ^  sovereign, 

1  Alder-liefest  \s  dearest  of  all ;  from  alder,  all,  and  liefest,  the  superla- 
tive of  I'tefe  or  lieve,  dear.    The  word,  though  pretty  much  obsolete  in 


SCENE  I.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  1 35 

Makes  me  the  bolder  to  salute  my  King 
With  ruder  terms,  such  as  my  vnt  affords, 
.\nd  over-joy  of  heart  doth  minister. 

A^t'ng.    Her  sight  did  ravish ;  but  her  grace  in  speech. 
Her  words  yclad  with  wisdom's  majesty. 
Make  me  from  wondering  fall  to  weeping  joys ; 
Such  is  the  fulness  of  my  heart's  content  — 
Lords,  with  one  cheerful  voice  welcome  my  love. 

A//.    [^Kmeli/ig.']    Long  hve  Queen  Margeret,  England's 
happiness  1  [^Flourish. 

Queen.    We  thank  you  all. 

Suf.   My  Lord  Protector,  so  it  please  your  Grace, 
Here  are  the  articles  of  contracted  peace 
Bebveen  our  sovereign  and  the  French  King  Charles, 
For  eighteen  months  concluded  by  consent. 

Glo.  [Reads.]  Imprimis,  //  is  agreed  between  the  French 
King  Charles  and  William  de  la  Pole,  Marquess  of  Suffolk, 
ambassador  for  Henry  King  of  England,  that  the  said  Henry 
shall  espouse  the  Lady  Margaret,  daughter  unto  Reignier  King 
of  Naples,  Sicilia,  and  Jerusalem;  and  crown  her  Queen  of 
England  ere  the  thirtieth  of  May  next  ensuing.  Item,  that  the 
duchy  of  Anjou  and  the  county  of  Maine  shall  be  released  and 
delivered  to  the  King  he r  father  ;  — 

King.   Uncle,  how  now  ! 

G^'  Pardon  me,  gracious  lord ; 

Some  sudden  qualm  hath  struck  me  at  the  heart, 
.And  dimm'd  mine  eyes,  that  I  can  read  no  further. 

King.   Uncle  of  Winchester,  I  pray,  read  on. 

Shakespeare's  time,  was  occasionally  used  by  the  older  writers.  So  in 
Chaucer's  Troiius  and  Creseide,  Book  iii.  v.  239 :  "  Mine  aldgrUvest  lord, 
and  brother  dere."  The  German  has  cdUrlUbst,  and  the  Dutch  cUUrliefsU, 
in  the  same  sense.  Ald^r  also  occurs  in  composition  with  other  words,  as 
aldtrbest,  alderfirst,  cUderlast,  aldermost,  ail  in  Chaucer. 


136  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  I. 

Car.  [Reads.]  \\.txvi,  It  is  further  agreed  between  them,  that 
the  duchies  of  Anjou  and  Maine^  shall  be  released  and  delivered 
over  to  the  King  her  father  ;  and  she  sent  over  of  the  King  of 
England's  own  proper  cost  and  charges,  without  having  any 
dowry. 

King.  They  please  us  well.  —  Lord  marquess,  kneel  thee 
down  : 
We  here  create  thee  the  first  Duke  of  Suffolk, 
And  girt  thee  with  the  sword.  —  Cousin  of  York, 
We  here  discharge  your  Grace  from  being  regent 
I'  the  parts  of  France,  till  term  of  eighteen  months 
Be  full  expired.  —  Thanks,  uncle  Winchester, 
Gloster,  York,  Buckingham,  Somerset, 
Salisbury,  and  Warwick ; 
We  thank  you  all  for  this  great  favour  done, 
In  entertainment  to  my  princely  Queen. 
Come,  let  us  in  ;  and  with  all  speed  provide 
To  see  her  coronation  be  perform'd. 

\_Exeunt  King,  Queen,  and  Suffolk. 

Glo.    Brave  peers  of  England,  pillars  of  the  State, 
To  you  Duke  Humphrey  must  unload  his  grief. 
Your  grief,  the  common  grief  of  all  the  land. 
What !  did  my  brother  Henry  spend  his  youth, 
His  valour,  coin,  and  people,  in  the  wars  ? 
Did  he  so  often  lodge  in  open  field 
In  Winter's  cold  and  Summer's  parching  heat, 
To  conquer  France,  his  true  inheritance? 
And  did  my  brother  Bedford  toil  his  wits. 
To  keep  by  policy  what  Henry  got  ? 

2  The  wording  of  the  instrument  seems  to  have  changed  rather  oddly  in 
passing  from  Gloster's  hand  to  Beaufort's.  Some  would  account  for  this 
by  supposing  that  Gloster's  sudden  dimness  of  vision  causes  him  to  misread 
the  words ;  but  the  author  has  too  many  such  discrepancies  to  admit  of 
being  explained  in  that  way.    An  oversight,  probably. 


SCENE  I.  KIXG    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  13/ 

Have  you  yourselves,  Somerset,  Buckingham, 

Brave  York,  Salisbury,  and  Wctorious  Warwick, 

Received  deep  scars  in  France  and  Normandy? 

Or  hath  mine  uncle  Beaufort  and  myself, 

With  all  the  learned  Council  of  the  realm. 

Studied  so  long,  sat  in  the  Council-house 

Early  and  late,  debating  to  and  fro 

How  France  and  Frenchmen  might  be  kept  in  awe  ? 

And  was  his  Highness  in  his  infancy 

Crowned  in  Paris  in  despite  of  foes  ? 

And  shall  these  labours  and  these  honours  die  ? 

Shall  Henr)''s  conquest,  Bedford's  vigilance. 

Your  deeds  of  war,  and  all  our  counsel  die  ? 

O  peers  of  England,  shameful  is  this  league  ! 

Fatal  this  marriage  !  cancelling  your  fame. 

Blotting  your  names  from  books  of  memory. 

Razing  the  characters  of  your  renown. 

Defacing  monuments  of  conquer'd  France, 

Undoing  all,  as  all  had  never  been  ! 

Car.    Nephew,  what  means  this  passionate  discourse. 
This  peroration  with  such  circumstance  ?  ^ 
For  France,  'tis  ours  ;  and  we  will  keep  it  still. 

Glo.   Ay,  uncle,  we  will  keep  it,  if  we  can ; 
But  now  it  is  impossible  we  should  : 
Suffolk,  the  new-made  duke  that  rules  the  roast,'* 
Hath  given  the  duchies  of  Anjou  and  Maine 
Unto  the  poor  King  Reignier,  whose  large  style  ^ 

'  Circumstance  for  circumstantial  detail.    Repeatedly  so. 

■•  This  word  ought  f>erhaps  to  be  roost.  However,  Richardson  explains 
it,  "  to  rule  the  roast,  as  king  of  the  feast,  orderer,  purveyor,  president  " ;  and 
he  adds,  "  or  may  it  not  be  to  rule  the  roost,  an  expression  of  which  every 
poultry-yard  would  supply  an  explanation?  "  So  in  Bishop  Jewell's  Defence  : 
"  Geate  you  nowe  up  into  your  pulptes  like  bragginge  cockes  on  the  rows/, 
flappe  your  whinges,  and  crowe  out  aloude." 

*  The  lar^e  style  is  the  string  of  grand  swelling  titles  with  which  Reignier 


138  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  I. 

Agrees  not  with  the  leanness  of  his  purse. 

Sal.    Now,  by  the  death  of  Him  that  died  for  all, 
These  counties  were  the  keys  of  Normandy  :  — 
But  wherefore  weeps  Warwick,  my  valiant  son  ?  ^ 

IVar.    For  grief  that  they  are  past  recovery  : 
For,  were  there  hope  to  conquer  them  again, 
My  sword  should  shed  hot  blood,  mine  eyes  no  tears. 
Anjou  and  Maine  !  myself  did  win  them  both ; 
Those  provinces  these  arms  of  mine  did  conquer : 
And  are  the  cities,  that  I  got  with  wounds, 
Deliver'd  up  again  with  peaceful  words  ? 
Mori  Dieu  / 

York.    For  Suffolk's  Duke,  may  he  be  suffocate, 
That  dims  the  honour  of  this  warlike  isle  ! 
France  should  have  torn  and  rent  my  very  heart, 
Before  I  would  have  yielded  to  this  league. 
I  never  read  but  England's  kings  have  had 
Large  sums  of  gold  and  dowries  with  their  wives  ; 
And  our  King  Henry  gives  away  his  own, 
To  match  with  her  that  brings  no  vantages. 

Glo.    A  proper  jest,  and  never  heard  before. 
That  Suffolk  should  demand  a  whole  fifteenth 
For  costs  and  charges  in  transporting  her  ! 
She  should  have  stay'd  in  France,  and  starved  in  France, 

flourishes  his  name ;  a  parcel  of  big  words,  as  if  he  were  an  emperor,  but 
all  signifying  nothing. 

6  The  Salisbury  of  this  play  was  Richard  Neville,  second  son  to  Ralph 
Neville,  who  figures  in  Henry  IV.  as  Earl  of  Westmoreland.  Richard  was 
married  to  Alice,  the  only  child  and  heir  of  Thomas  Montacute,  the  Earl  of 
Salisbury  who  was  killed  at  the  siege  of  Orleans  in  1428 ;  and  thus  brought 
that  earldom  into  the  Neville  family.  His  oldest  son,  Richard,  again,  was 
married  to  Anne,  the  sister  and  heir  of  Henry  Beauchamp,  Earl  of  Warwick, 
and  so  succeeded  to  that  earldom  in  1449.  Shakespeare,  though  he  rightly 
makes  Warwick  the  son  of  Salisbury,  attributes  to  him  the  acts  of  Richard 
Beauchamp,  the  Earl  of  Warwick  who  figures  in  the  preceding  play.  See 
page  42,  note  4. 


SCENE  I.  KING    HENRY   THE    SIXTH.  139 

Before  — 

Car.    My  Lord  of  Gloster,  now  ye  grow  too  hot : 
It  was  the  pleasure  of  my  lord  the  King. 

Glo.    My  Lord  of  Winchester,  I  know  your  mind  j 
'Tis  not  my  speeches  that  you  do  mislike, 
But  'tis  my  presence  that  doth  trouble  ye. 
Rancour  will  out :  proud  prelate,  in  thy  face 
I  see  thy  fury  :  if  I  longer  stay, 
We  shall  begin  our  ancient  bickerings.  — 
Lordings,  farewell ;  and  say,  when  I  am  gone, 
I  prophesied  France  will  be  lost  ere  long.  \_Exit. 

Car.    So,  there  goes  our  Protector  in  a  rage. 
'Tis  kno\vn  to  you  he  is  mine  enemy ; 
Nay,  more,  an  enemy  unto  you  all ; 
And  no  great  friend,  I  fear  me,  to  the  King. 
Consider,  lords,  he  is  the  next  of  blood. 
And  heir-apparent  to  the  English  crown  : 
Had  Henry  got  an  empire  by  his  marriage, 
And  all  the  wealthy  kingdoms  of  the  W^est, 
There's  reason  he  should  be  displeased  at  it. 
Look  to  it,  lords  ;  let  not  his  smoothing  words 
Bewitch  your  hearts  ;  be  wise  and  circumspect. 
W^hat  though  the  common  people  favour  him. 
Calling  him  Humphrey,  the  good  Duke  of  Gloster; 
Clapping  their  hands,  and  crying  with  loud  voice, 
Jesu  maintain  your  royal  excellence  I 
With  God  presence  the  good  Duke  Humphrey  / 
I  fear  me,  lords,  for  all  this  flattering  gloss, 
He  will  be  found  a  dangerous  Protector. 

Buck.  \Miy  should  he,  then,  protect  our  sovereign. 
He  bemg  of  age  to  govern  of  himself?  — 
Cousin  of  Somerset,  join  you  with  me. 
And  all  together,  with  the  Duke  of  Suffolk, 
We'll  quickly  hoise  Duke  Humphrey  from  his  seat. 


140  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  I. 

Car.   This  weighty  business  will  not  brook  delay ; 
I'll  to  the  Duke  of  Suffolk  presently.  \^Exii. 

Som.    Cousin  of  Buckingham,  though  Humphrey's  pride 
And  greatness  of  his  place  be  grief  to  us, 
Yet  let  us  watch  the  haughty  Cardinal : 
His  insolence  is  more  intolerable 
Than  all  the  Princes  in  the  land  besides  : 
If  Gloster  be  displaced,  he'll  be  protector. 

Buck.   Thou  or  I,  Somerset,  will  be  protector, 
Despite  Duke  Humphrey  or  the  Cardinal. 

[^Exeunt  Buckingham  and  Somerset. 

Sal.    Pride  went  before,  ambition  follows  him. 
While  these  do  labour  for  their  own  preferment. 
Behoves  it  us  to  labour  for  the  realm. 
I  never  saw  but  Humphrey  Duke  of  Gloster 
Did  bear  him  like  a  noble  gentleman. 
Oft  have  I  seen  the  haughty  Cardinal  — 
More  like  a  soldier  than  a  man  o'  the  Church, 
As  stout  and  proud  as  he  were  lord  of  all  — 

Swear  like  a  rufifian,  and  demean  himself  \ 

Unlike  the  ruler  of  a  commonweal.  —  ! 

Warwick,  my  son,  the  comfort  of  my  age, 

Thy  deeds,  thy  plainness,  and  thy  housekeeping,'  | 

Have  won  the  greatest  favour  of  the  commons,  ■ 

Excepting  none  but  good  Duke  Humphrey  :  —  J 

And,  brother  York,^  thy  acts  in  Ireland,  ij 

In  bringing  them  to  civil  discipline  ;  1 


■^  Housekeepings  here  means  hospitality.  The  leading  noblemen  of  that 
age  often  kept  very  large  and  well-loaded  tables,  which  were  open  to  any 
who  might  choose  to  come  and  eat. 

8  The  present  Duke  of  York  married  Cicely,  daughter  to  Ralph  Neville, 
Earl  of  Westmoreland,  by  Joan  his  first  wife,  who,  again,  was  daughter  to 
John  of  Ghent  by  Catharine  Swynford.  Salisbury  was  the  son  of  West- 
moreland by  a  second  wife.  Of  course  therefore  York's  wife  was  half-sister 
to  the  Earl  of  Salisbury 


SCENE  I.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  I4I 

Thy  late  exploits  done  in  the  heart  of  France, 

When  thou  wert  regent  for  our  sovereign, 

Have  made  thee  fear'd  and  honour'd  of  the  people  :  — 

Join  we  together,  for  the  public  good. 

In  what  we  can,  to  bridle  and  suppress 

The  pride  of  Suffolk  and  the  Cardinal, 

With  Somerset's  and  Buckingham's  ambition  ; 

And,  as  we  may,  cherish  Duke  Humphrey's  deeds. 

While  they  do  tend  to  profit  of  the  land. 

IFar.    So  God  help  Wanvick,  as  he  loves  the  land. 
And  common  profit  of  his  country  ! 

Yor/:.    \_AsideJ\    And  so  says  York,  for  he  hath  greatest 
cause. 

Sal.   Then  let's  make  haste  away,  and  look  unto  the  main. 

War.   Unto  the  main  !  O  father,  Maine  is  lost,  — 
That  Maine  which  by  main  force  Warwick  did  win, 
And  would  have  kept  so  long  as  breath  did  last ! 
Main  chance,  father,  you  meant ;  but  I  meant  Maine  ; 
Which  I  will  win  from  France,  or  else  be  slain. 

\_Exeunt  ^VARWICK  and  Salisbury. 

York.    Anjou  and  Maine  are  given  to  the  French ; 
Paris  is  lost ;  the  state  of  Normandy 
Stands  on  a  tickle  ^  point,  now  they  are  gone  : 
Suffolk  concluded  on  the  articles  ; 
The  peers  agreed  ;  and  Henry  was  well  pleased 
To  change  two  dukedoms  for  a  duke's  fair  daughter. 
I  cannot  blame  them  all :  what  is't  to  them  ? 
'Tis  mine  they  give  away,  and  not  their  own. 

9  Tickle  for  ticklish,  meaning  unsteady,  or  tottering.    So  in   Spenser's 
fragment,  Of  Mutabilitie,  vii.  22 : 

O  weake  life,  that  does  leane 
On  things  so  tickle  as  th'  unsteady  Ayre, 
Which  every  howre  is  chang'd,  and  allied  cleane 
With  every  blast  that  bloweth  fowle  or  fairc 


142  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  I. 

Pirates  may  make  cheap  pennyworths  of  their  pillage, 

And  purchase  friends,  and  give  to  courtezans, 

Still  revelling,  like  lords,  till  all  be  gone  ; 

Whileas  ^^  the  silly  owner  of  the  goods 

Weeps  over  them,  and  wrings  his  helpless  hands, 

And  shakes  his  head,  and  trembling  stands  aloof. 

Ready  to  starve,  and  dare  not  touch  his  own, 

While  1'  all  is  shared,  and  all  is  borne  away : 

So  York  must  sit,  and  fret,  and  bite  his  tongue, 

While  his  own  lands  are  bargain'd  for  and  sold. 

Methinks  the  realms  of  England,  France,  and  Ireland     ■ 

Bear  that  proportion  to  my  flesh  and  blood 

As  did  the  fatal  brand  Althaea  burn'd 

Unto  the  Prince's  heart  of  Calydon.'^ 

Anjou  and  Maine  both  given  unto  the  French  ! 

Cold  news  for  me ;  for  I  had  hope  of  France, 

Even  as  I  have  of  fertile  England's  soil. 

A  day  will  come  when  York  shall  claim  his  own  ; 

And  therefore  I  will  take  the  Nevilles'  parts. 

And  make  a  show  of  love  to  proud  Duke  Humphrey, 

And,  when  I  spy  advantage,  claim  the  crown, 

For  that's  the  golden  mark  I  seek  to  hit : 

Nor  shall  proud  Lancaster  usurp  my  right, 

Nor  hold  the  sceptre  in  his  childish  fist. 

Nor  wear  the  diadem  upon  his  head, 

Whose  church-like  humour  fits  not  for  a  crown. 

Then,  York,  be  still  awhile,  till  time  do  serve  : 

1"  Whileas  was  often  used  for  while,  just  as  whereas  for  where. 

11  While,  both  here  and  in  the  second  Hne  after,  is  equivalent  to  till.  A 
common  usage  in  the  Poet's  time,  and  long  after.  So  in  Lodge's  Rosalynde  : 
"  Nothing  can  make  me  forget  Phcebe,  while  Montanus  forget  himself." 
See,  also,  vol.  v.  page  224,  note  6. 

12  According  to  Ovid,  the  life  of  Meleager,  Prince  of  Calydon,  was  made 
to  depend  on  a  certain  firebrand ;  which  being  thrown  into  the  fire  by  his 
mother  Althea,  he  expired  in  great  torments. 


SCENE  II.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  143 

Watch  thou  and  wake,  when  others  be  asleep, 

To  pry  into  the  secrets  of  the  State ; 

Till,  Henr}'  surfeiting  in  joys  of  love 

With  his  new  bride  and  England's  dear-bought  Queen. 

Duke  Humphrey  with  the  peers  be  fall'n  at  jars  : 

Then  will  I  raise  aloft  the  milk-white  rose, 

With  whose  sweet  smell  the  air  shall  be  perfumed ; 

And  in  my  standard  bear  the  arms  of  York, 

To  grapple  with  the  House  of  Lancaster ; 

And,  force  perforce,  I'll  make  him  jield  the  crown, 

^Vhose  bookish  rule  hath  puU'd  fair  England  down.       \^Exit. 


Scene  II.  —  TTie  Same.     A  Room  in  the  Duke  <2^GijOSTER*s 
House. 

Enter  Gloster  and  the  Duchess.^ 

Duch.   Why  droops  ray  lord,  like  over-ripen'd  com 
Hanging  the  head  at  Ceres'  plenteous  load  ? 
Why  doth  the  great  Duke  Humphrey  knit  his  brow, 
.\s  frowning  at  the  favours  of  the  world  ? 
Why  are  thine  eyes  fix'd  to  the  sullen  earth. 
Gazing  on  that  which  seems  to  dim  thy  sight? 
What  see'st  thou  there  ?     King  Henry's  diadem. 
Enchased  with  all  the  honours  of  the  world  ? 
If  so,  gaze  on,  and  grovel  on  thy  face, 

1  The  present  Duchess  of  Gloster  was  EUeanor,  daughter  to  Reginald 
Lord  Cobham.  The  duke  had  formerly  lived  on  such  terms  with  Jacque- 
line of  Bavaria,  that  she  was  commonly  suppwsed  to  be  his  wife ;  but,  as  she 
already  had  a  husband,  John  Duke  of  Brabant,  from  whose  claim  she  could 
not  get  a  legal  release,  her  union  with  Gloster  was  obliged  to  be  broken  off. 
Meanwhile,  the  duke  had  been  op>enly  living  with  Eleanor  Cobham  as  his 
mistress,  insomuch  that  in  1423  the  principal  matrons  of  Lxsndon  went  to 
the  House  of  Lords  with  a  petition  against  him  for  having  neglected  his 
lawful  wife.  Lingard  says,  "  The  beauty  of  Eleanor  was  as  distinguished  as 
her  morals  were  dissolute." 


144  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  I. 

Until  thy  head  be  circled  with  the  same. 

Put  forth  thy  hand,  reach  at  the  glorious  gold : 

What,  is't  too  short?  I'll  lengthen  it  with  mine ; 

And,  having  both  together  heaved  it  up, 

We'll  both  together  lift  our  heads  to  heaven, 

And  never  more  abase  our  sight  so  low 

As  to  vouchsafe  one  glance  unto  the  ground. 

Glo.   O  Nell,  sweet  Nell,  if  thou  dost  love  thy  lord, 
Banish  the  canker  of  ambitious  thoughts  ! 
And  may  that  thought,  when  I  imagine  ill 
Against  my  King  and  nephew,  virtuous  Henry, 
Be  my  last  breathing  in  this  mortal  world  ! 
My  troublous  dream  this  night  doth  make  me  sad. 

Duch.    What  dream'd  my  lord  ?  tell  me,  and  I'll  requite  it 
With  sweet  rehearsal  of  my  morning's  dream. 

Glo.    Methought  this  staff,  mine  office'  badge  in  Court, 
Was  broke  in  twain  ;  by  whom  I  have  forgot. 
But,  as  I  think,  'twas  by  the  Cardinal ; 
And  on  the  pieces  of  the  broken  wand 
Were  placed  the  heads  of  Edmund  Duke  of  Somerset, 
And  William  de  la  Pole,  first  Duke  of  Suffolk. 
This  was  my  dream  :  what  it  doth  bode,  God  knows. 

Duch.   Tut,  this  was  nothing  but  an  argument 
That  he  that  breaks  a  stick  of  Gloster's  grove 
Shall  lose  his  head  for  his  presumption. 
But  list  to  me,  my  Humphrey,  my  sweet  duke  : 
Methought  I  sat  in  seat  of  majesty 
In  the  cathedral  church  of  Westminster, 
And  in  that  chair  where  kings  and  queens  are  crown'd ; 
There  Henry  and  Dame  Margaret  kneel'd  to  me, 
And  on  my  head  did  set  the  diadem. 

Glo.    Nay,  Eleanor,  then  must  I  chide  outright : 
Presumptuous  dame,  ill-nurtured  Eleanor  ! 
Art  thou  not  second  woman  in  the  realm, 


SCENE  II.  KING   HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  14$ 

And  the  Protector's  wife,  beloved  of  him  ? 
Hast  thou  not  worldly  pleasure  at  command, 
Above  the  reach  or  compass  of  thy  thought  ? 
And  wilt  thou  still  be  hammering  treachery, 
To  tumble  down  thy  husband  and  thyself 
From  top  of  honour  to  disgrace's  feet  ? 
Away  from  me,  and  let  me  hear  no  more  ! 

Duch.   ^V^lat,  what,  my  lord  !  are  you  so  choleric 
With  Eleanor  for  telling  but  her  dream  ? 
Next  time  I'll  keep  my  dreams  unto  myself, 
And  not  be  check'd. 

Glo.   Nay,  be  not  angry,  I  am  pleased  again. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.    My  Lord  Protector,  'tis  his  Highness'  pleasure 
You  do  prepare  to  ride  unto  Saint  Alban's, 
Whereas  ^  the  King  and  Queen  do  mean  to  hawk. 

Glo.    I  go,  —  Come,  Nell ;  thou'lt  ride  with  us,  I'm  sure. 

Duch.   Yes,  my  good  lord,  I'll  follow  presently.  — 

\_Exeunt  Gloster  and  Messenger. 
Follow  I  must ;  I  cannot  go  before, 
While  Gloster  bears  this  base  and  humble  mind. 
Were  I  a  man,  a  duke,  and  next  of  blood, 
I  would  remove  these  tedious  stumbling-blocks, 
And  smooth  my  way  upon  their  headless  necks ; 
And,  being  a  woman,  I  will  not  be  slack 
To  play  my  part  in  Fortune's  pageant.  — 
Where  are  you  there,  Sir  ^  John  ?  nay,  fear  not,  man. 
We  are  alone ;  here's  none  but  thee  and  I. 


'  Wherea\  for  where  ;  the  two  words  being  often  used  intferchangeably. 

'  Sir  was  in  common  use  as  a  clerical  title ;  a  translation  of  dominus. 
Shakespeare  has  it  ref)eatedly,  as  in  Sir  Hugh  Evans,  Sir  Oliver  Martext, 
and  Sir  Topas  the  curate. 


146  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  I. 

Enter  Hume. 

Hume.  Jesus  preserve  your  royal  Majesty  ! 

Duch.    What  say'st  thou  ?  Majesty  /    I  am  but  Grace. 

Hume.    But,  by  the  grace  of  God,  and  Hume's  advice. 
Your  Grace's  title  shall  be  multiplied. 

Duch.   What  say'st  thou,  man?  hast  thou  as  yet  conferr'd 
With  Margery  Jourdain,  the  cunning  witch. 
With  Roger  Bolingbroke,  the  conjurer? 
And  will  they  undertake  to  do  me  good  ? 

Hume.   This  they  have  promised,  to  show  your  Highness 
A  spirit  raised  from  depth  of  under-ground, 
That  shall  make  answer  to  such  questions 
As  by  your  Grace  shall  be  propounded  him. 

Duch.    It  is  enough  ;  I'll  think  upon  the  questions  : 
When  from  Saint  Alban's  we  do  make  return, 
We'll  see  these  things  effected  to  the  full. 
Here,  Hume,  take  this  reward ;  make  merry,  man. 
With  thy  confederates  in  this  weighty  cause.  \^Exit. 

Hume.    Hume  must  make  merry  with  the  duchess'  gold ; 
Marry,  and  shall.     But,  how  now.  Sir  John  Hume  ! 
Seal  up  your  lips,  and  give  no  words  but  mum  : 
The  business  asketh  silent  secrecy. 
Dame  Eleanor  gives  gold  to  bring  the  witch  : 
Gold  cannot  come  amiss,  were  she  a  devil. 
Yet  have  I  gold  flies  from  another  coast : 
I  dare  not  say,  from  the  rich  Cardinal, 
And  from  the  great  and  new-made  Duke  of  Suffolk ; 
Yet  I  do  find  it  so  :  for,  to  be  plain, 
They,  knowing  Dame  Eleanor's  aspiring  humour, 
Have  hired  me  to  undermine  the  duchess, 
And  buzz  these  conjurations  in  her  brain. 
They  say,  A  crafty  knave  does  need  no  broker  ;  ^ 

•*  This  was  a  common  proverb.     Ray  has  "  Two  cunning  knaves  need  no 
broker."     Broker  here  means  a  negotiator  ov  go-between. 


SCENE  III.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  I47 

Yet  am  I  Suffolk's  and  the  Cardinal's  broker. 

Hume,  if  you  take  not  heed,  you  shall  go  near 

To  call  them  both  a  pair  of  crafty  knaves. 

Well,  so  it  stands ;  and  thus,  I  fear,  at  last 

Hume's  knavery  will  be  the  duchess'  wTeck, 

And  her  attainture  will  be  Humphrey's  fall : 

Sort  how  it  will,^  I  shall  have  gold  for  all.  \Extf. 

Scene  III.  —  TTie  Same.     An  outer  Room  in  the  Palace. 
Enter  Peter  atid  other  Petitioners. 

/  Petit,  My  masters,  let's  stand  close  :  my  Lord  Protector 
will  come  this  way  by-and-by,  and  then  we  may  deliver  our 
supplications  in  the  quill.' 

2  Petit.  Marr)-,  the  Lord  protect  him,  for  he's  a  good 
man  !     Jesu  bless  him  ! 

I  Petit.  Here  'a  comes,  methinks,  and  the  Queen  with 
him.     I'll  be  the  first,  sure. 

*  That  is,  let  it  happen,  or  be  allotted,  as  it  will ;  to  sort  being  formerly 
used  for  to  take  or  give  by  loL 

1  This  phrase,  in  the  quill,  has  drawn  forth  a  great  variety  of  explana- 
tions. I  select  the  two  which  seem  to  me  the  most  probable.  The  first  is 
Singer's:  "There  cannot  be  the  slightest  doubt  that  'in  the  quill'  is  in- 
tended for  '  in  the  quoill  or  coil ;  that  is,  in  the  bustle  or  tumult  which  would 
arise  at  the  time  the  Protector  passed.  Shakespeare  frequently  uses  the 
word  for  bustle,  tumult,  stir  ;  and  that  it  was  sometimes  spelt  quoil  or  quoyle 
appears  from  Nares.  The  orthography  may  have  been  intended  to  mark 
the  First  Petitioner's  mode  of  pronunciation,  quite  for  coil,  and  the  misprint 
be  only  in  the  letter,  /  for  e."  Dyce  tells  us  the  same  thought  had  occurred 
to  him  before  he  knew  that  Singer  had  hit  upon  it.  The  second  is  Halli- 
well's :  "  In  the  quill,  that  is,  all  together.  The  First  Petitioner  tells  his 
companions  to  keep  together,  so  that,  when  the  Lord  Protector  comes,  their 
supplications  may  all  be  delivered  at  once."  And  in  his  Dictionary  of 
Archaic  and  Provincial  Words  he  has  "Quite.  A  pile,  heap,  large  cock,  or 
cop  of  hay  put  together  ready  for  carrying,  or  to  secure  it  from  rain ;  a  heap 
of  any  thing."  I  have  but  to  add  that  Shakespeare  repeatedly  uses  on  a 
k^af  ox  in  a  heap  for  in  a  crowd. 


148  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  I. 

Enter  Suffolk  and  Queen  Margaret. 

2  Petit.  Come  back,  fool ;  this  is  the  Duke  of  Suffolk,  and 
not  my  Lord  Protector, 

Suf.    How  now,  fellow  !  wouldst  any  thing  with  me  ? 

1  Petit.  I  pray,  my  lord,  pardon  me ;  I  took  ye  for  my 
Lord  Protector. 

Queen.  For  my  Lord  Protector  !  Are  your  supplications 
to  his  lordship  ?     Let  me  see  them  :  —  what  is  thine  ? 

/  Petit.  Mine  is,  an't  please  your  Grace,  against  John 
Goodman,  my  Lord  Cardinal's  man,  for  keeping  my  house 
and  lands,  and  wife  and  all,  from  me. 

Suf.  Thy  wife  too  !  that's  some  wrong,  indeed.  —  What's 
yours?  What's  here!  [Reads.]  Against  the  Duke  of  Suf- 
folk, for  enclosing  the  commons  of  Melford.  How  now,  sir 
knave ! 

2  Petit.  Alas,  sir,  I  am  but  a  poor  petitioner  of  our  whole 
township. 

Peter.  \Presenting  his  petition.']  Against  my  master,  Thomas 
Horner,  for  saying  that  the  Duke  of  York  was  rightful  heir  to 
the  crown. 

Queen.  What  say'st  thou  ?  did  the  Duke  of  York  say  he 
was  rightful  heir  to  the  crown  ? 

Peter.  That  my  master  was  ?  no,  forsooth  :  my  master  said 
that  he  was  ;  and  that  the  King  was  an  usurper. 

Suf.   Who  is  there?— 

.  Enter  Servants. 

Take  this  fellow  in,  and  send  for  his  master  with  a  pursuivant 
presently.  —  We'll  hear  more  of  your  matter  before  the  King. 

\_Exeunt  Servants  with  Peter. 
Queen.   And  as  for  you,  that  love  to  be  protected 
Under  the  wings  of  our  Protector's  Grace, 
Begin  your  suits  anew,  and  sue  to  him.    \_Tears  the  petitions. 
Away,  base  cuUions  !  —  Suffolk,  let  them  go. 


SCENE  III.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  1 49 

All.    Come,  let's  be  gone.  \^Exeunt  Petitioners, 

Queen.    My  Lord  of  Suffolk,  say,  is  this  the  guise. 
Is  this  the  fashion  in  the  Court  of  England  ? 
Is  this  the  government  of  Britain's  isle, 
And  this  the  royalty  of  Albion's  King  ? 
What,  shall  King  Henry  be  a  pupil  still. 
Under  the  surly  Gloster's  governance  ? 
Am  I  a  queen  in  title  and  in  style. 
And  must  be  made  a  subject  to  a  duke  ? 
I  tell  thee,  Pole,  when  in  the  city  Tours 
Thou  rann'st  a  tilt  in  honour  of  my  love. 
And  stolest  away  the  ladies'  hearts  of  France, 
I  thought  King  Henry  had  resembled  thee 
In  courage,  court.ship,  and  proportion  : 
But  all  his  mind  is  bent  to  holiness, 
To  number  Ave-Maries  on  his  beads  : 
His  champions  are  the  Prophets  and  Apostles ; 
His  weapons,  holy  saws  ^  of  Sacred  Writ ; 
His  study  is  his  tilt-yard,  and  his  loves 
Are  brazen  images  of  can6nized  saints. 
I  would  the  College  of  the  Cardinals 
Would  choose  him  Pope,  and  carry  him  to  Rome, 
And  set  the  triple  crown  upon  his  head : 
That  were  a  state  fit  for  his  holiness. 

Suf.    Madam,  be  patient :  as  I  was  cause 
Your  Highness  came  to  England,  so  will  I 
In  England  work  your  Grace's  full  content. 

Queen.   Besides  the  haught  Protector,  have  we  Beaufort 
Th'  imperious  churchman,  Somerset,  Buckingham, 
And  grumbling  York  ;  and  not  the  least  of  these 
But  can  do  more  in  England  than  the  King. 

Suf.   And  he  of  these  that  can  do  most  of  all 

2  Saws  is  an  old  contraction  of  sayings;  and  means  maxims  or  proverbs. 
Much  used  in  the  Poet's  time.    See  vol.  v.  page  50,  note  aa 


150  THE    SECOND    PART    OF 

Cannot  do  more  in  England  than  the  Nevilles  : 
Salisbury  and  Warwick  are  no  simple  peers. 

Queen.    Not  all  these  lords  do  vex  me  half  so  much 
As  that  proud  dame,  the  Lord  Protector's  wife. 
She  sweeps  it  through  the  Court  with  troops  of  ladies, 
More  like  an  empress  than  Duke  Humphrey's  wife  : 
Strangers  in  Court  do  take  her  for  the  Queen : 
She  bears  a  duke's  revenues  on  her  back. 
And  in  her  heart  she  scorns  our  poverty : 
Shall  I  not  live  to  be  avenged  on  her  ? 
Contemptuous  base-born  callet  ^  as  she  is, 
She  vaunted  'mongst  her  minions  t'other  day. 
The  very  train  of  her  worst  wearing-gown 
Was  better  worth  than  all  my  father's  lands, 
Till  Suffolk  gave  two  dukedoms  for  his  daughter. 

Suf.    Madam,  myself  have  limed  a  bush  for  her,'* 
And  placed  a  quire  of  such  enticing  birds, 
That  she  will  light  to  listen  to  their  lays. 
And  never  mount  to  trouble  you  again. 
So,  let  her  rest ;  and,  madam,  list  to  me  ; 
For  I  am  bold  to  counsel  you  in  this  : 
Although  we  fancy  not  the  Cardinal, 
Yet  must  we  join  with  him  and  with  the  lords, 
Till  we  have  brought  Duke  Humphrey  in  disgrace. 
As  for  the  Duke  of  York,  this  late  complaint 
Will  make  but  little  for  his  benefit. 
So,  one  by  one,  we'll  weed  them  all  at  last. 
And  you  yourself  shall  steer  the  happy  helm. 


8  Callet  is  an  old  term  of  abuse  applied  to  women ;  meaning  drab,  jade, 
trull,  or  wench.    See  vol.  vii.  page  180,  note  11. 

■*  Referring  to  the  ancient  use  of  lime,  or,  as  it  is  sometimes  called,  bird- 
lime, which  was  a  sticky  substance  spread  upon  twigs  and  bushes,  to  catch 
birds :  hence  the  word  came  to  be  used  for  any  kind  of  snare  or  trap.  See 
vol.  iv.  page  82,  note  11 ;  and  page  200,  note  10. 


SCENE  III.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  I5I 

Enter  King  Henry,  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Gloster, 
Cardinal  Beaufort,  Buckingham,  York,  Somerset, 
Salisbury,  a«^/ Warwick. 

King.   For  my  part,  noble  lords,  I  care  not  which ; 
Or  Somerst  or  York,  all's  one  to  me. 

York.    If  York  have  ill  demean'd  himself  in  France, 
Then  let  him  be  denay'd  ^  the  regentship. 

Som.    If  Somerset  be  unworthy  of  the  place. 
Let  York  be  regent ;  I  will  yield  to  him. 

War.   Whether  your  Grace  be  worthy,  yea  or  no, 
Dispute  not  that :  York  is  the  worthier. 

Car.   Ambitious  Warwick,  let  thy  betters  speak. 

War.   The  Cardinal's  not  my  better  in  the  field. 

Buck.    All  in  this  presence  are  thy  betters,  Warwick. 

War.   Warwick  may  live  to  be  the  best  of  all. 

Sal.    Peace,  son  !  —  and  show  some  reason,  Buckingham, 
Why  Somerset  should  be  preferr'd  in  this. 

Queen.   Because  the  King,  forsooth,  will  have  it  so. 

Glo.    Madam,  the  King  is  old  enough  himself 
To  give  his  censure  :  ^  these  are  no  women's  matters. 

Queen.    If  he  be  old  enough,  what  needs  your  Grace 
To  be  protector  of  his  Excellence  ? 

Glo.    Madam,  I  am  Protector  of  the  realm ; 
And,  at  his  pleasure,  will  resign  my  place. 

Suf.    Resign  it,  then,  and  leave  thine  insolence. 
Since  thou  wert  king,  —  as  who  is  king  but  thou  ?  — 
The  commonwealth  hath  daily  run  to  wreck ; 
The  Dauphin  hath  prevail'd  beyond  the  seas ; 
And  all  the  peers  and  nobles  of  the  realm 
Have  been  as  bondmen  to  thy  sovereignty. 

Car.   The  commons  hast  thou  rack'd  ;  the  clergy's  bags 

5  Denay  is  an  old  form  of  deny  ;  used  repeatedly  by  the  Poet. 

6  Censure  here  mtaxis  judgment.    The  usage  was  common. 


152  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  I. 

Are  lank  and  lean  with  thy  extortions. 

Soni.   Thy  sumptuous  buildings,  and  thy  wife's  attire, 
Have  cost  a  mass  of  public  treasury. 

Buck.  Thy  cruelty  in  execution 
Upon  offenders  hath  exceeded  law, 
And  left  thee  to  the  mercy  of  the  law. 

Queen.   Thy  sale  of  offices  and  towns  in  France  — 
If  they  were  known,  as  the  suspect  is  great  — 
Would  make  thee  quickly  hop  without  thy  head.  — 

[^Extt  Gloster.     The  Queen  drops  her  fan. 
Give  me  my  fan  :  what,  minion  !  can  ye  not  ? 

\_Gives  the  Duchess  a  box  on  iJie  ear. 
I  cry  you  mercy,'''  madam  ;  was  it  you  ? 

Duch.   Was't  I  !  yea,  I  it  was,  proud  Frenchwoman  : 
Could  I  come  near  your  beauty  with  my  nails, 
I'd  set  my  ten  commandments  ^  in  your  face. 

King.    Sweet  aunt,  be  quiet ;  'twas  against  her  will. 

Duch.   Against  her  will !  good  King,  look  to't  in  time  ; 
She'll  hamper  thee,  and  dandle  thee  like  a  baby  : 
Though  in  this  place  most  masters  wear  no  breeches. 
She  shall  not  strike  Dame  Eleanor  unrevenged.  \_Exit. 

Buck.    Lord  Cardinal,  I  will  follow  Eleanor, 
And  listen  after  Humphrey,  how  he  proceeds  : 
She's  tickled  now ;  her  fury  needs  no  spurs. 
She'll  gallop  fast  enough  to  her  destruction.  \Exit. 


■^  "  I  cry  you  mercy  "  is  I  ask  your  pardon,  or  I  beg  your  favour  or  in- 
dulgence.   The  phrase  occurs  very  often  so. 

8  This  appears  to  have  been  a  popular  phrase  for  the  ten  fingers.  So  in 
Selimvs,  Emperor  of  the  Turks,  1594 :  "  I  would  set  a  tap  abroach  and  not 
live  in  fear  of  my  wife's  ten  commandments."  Again,  in  Westward  Hoe, 
1607 :  "  Your  harpy  has  set  his  ten  commandments  on  my  back."  And  in 
Udal's  version  of  Erasmus's  Apothegms :  "  When  Xantippe  had  pulled  awaye 
her  husbandes  cope  from  his  backe,  even  in  the  open  streete,  and  his  familiar 
compaignons  gave  him  a  by  warning  to  avenge  suche  a  naughtie  louche  or 
pranke  with  his  tenne  commandments." 


SCENE  ni.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  153 

Re-enter  Gloster. 

Glo.   Now,  lords,  my  choler  being  over-blown 
With  walking  once  about  the  quadrangle, 
I  come  to  talk  of  commonwealth  affairs. 
As  for  your  spiteful  false  objections, 
Prove  them,  and  I  lie  open  to  the  law : 
But  God  in  mercy  so  deal  with  my  soul. 
As  I  in  duty  love  my  King  and  country ! 
But,  to  the  matter  that  we  have  in  hand :  — 
I  say,  my  sovereign,  York  is  meetest  man 
To  be  your  regent  in  the  realm  of  France. 

Suf.    Before  we  make  election,  give  me  leave 
To  show  some  reason,  of  no  little  force. 
That  York  is  most  unmeet  of  any  man. 

York.    I'll  tell  thee,  Suffolk,  why  I  am  umneet : 
First,  for  I  cannot  flatter  thee  in  pride  ; 
Next,  if  I  be  appointed  for  the  place. 
My  Lord  of  Somerset  will  keep  me  there 
Without  discharge,^  money,  or  furniture, 
Till  France  be  won  into  the  Dauphin's  hands : 
Last  time,  I  danced  attendance  on  his  will 
Till  Paris  was  besieged,  famish'd,  and  lost. 

War.   That  can  I  witness  ;  and  a  fouler  fact 
Did  never  traitor  in  the  land  commit 

Suf.    Peace,  headstrong  Warwick  ! 

War.  Image  of  pride,  why  should  I  hold  my  peace  ? 

Enter  Servants,  bringing  in  Horner  and  Peter. 

Suf.    Because  here  is  a  man  accused  of  treason  : 
Pray  God  the  Duke  of  York  excuse  himself ! 
York.    Doth  any  one  accuse  York  for  a  traitor  ? 

9  "  Without  discharge  "  probably  means  "  without  giving  up  the  troops 
and  turning  them  over  to  my  command." 


154  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  I. 

King.  What   mean'st   thou,  Suffolk?  tell   me,   what  are 
these? 

Suf.   Please  it  your  Majesty,  this  is  the  man 
That  doth  accuse  his  master  of  high  treason  : 
His  words  were  these,  that  Richard  Duke  of  York 
Was  rightful  heir  unto  the  English  crown. 
And  that  your  Majesty  was  an  usurper. 

King.    Say,  man,  were  these  thy  words  ? 

Nor.  An't  shall  please  your  Majesty,  I  never  said  nor 
thought  any  such  matter :  God  is  my  witness,  I  am  falsely 
accused  by  the  villain. 

Pet.  [^Holding  up  his  hands.']  By  these  ten  bones,'"  my 
lords,  he  did  speak  them  to  me  in  the  garret  one  night,  as 
we  were  scouring  my  Lord  of  York's  armour. 

Yorlk.    Base  dunghill  villain  and  mechanical, 
I'll  have  thy  head  for  this  thy  traitor's  speech. — 
I  do  beseech  your  royal  Majesty, 
Let  him  have  all  the  rigour  of  the  law. 

Hor.  Alas,  my  lord,  hang  me,  if  ever  I  spake  the  words. 
My  accuser  is  my  prentice  ;  and,  when  I  did  correct  him 
for  his  fault  the  other  day,  he  did  vow  upon  his  knees  he 
would  be  even  with  me  :  I  have  good  witness  of  this ;  there- 
fore, I  beseech  your  Majesty,  do  not  cast  away  an  honest 
man  for  a  villain's  accusation. 

King.    Uncle,  what  shall  we  say  to  this  in  law? 

Glo.   This  is  my  doom,  my  lord,  if  I  may  judge  : 
Let  Somerset  be  regent  o'er  the  French, 
Because  in  York  this  breeds  suspicion ; 

10  We  have  just  heard  a  duchess  threaten  to  set  her  ten  commandments 
in  the  face  of  a  queen.  We  have  here  again  a  similar  vulgar  expression. 
It  is,  however,  a  very  ancient  popular  adjuration,  and  may  be  found  in  many 
old  dramatic  pieces.    So  in  Jacke  Jugler : 

yack.   Ye,  mary,  I  tell  thee  Careawaye  is  my  name. 
Car.  And  by  these  tenne  bones  myne  is  the  same. 


SCENE  IV.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  1 55 

And  let  these  have  a  day  apointed  them 

For  single  combat  in  convenient  place. 

For  he  hath  witness  of  his  servant's  malice  ; 

This  is  the  law,  and  this  Duke  Humphrey's  doom. 

King.   Then  be  it  so.  —  My  Lord  of  Somerset, 
We  make  your  Grace  our  regent  o'er  the  French. 

Som.    I  humbly  thank  your  royal  Majesty. 

Hor.   And  I  accept  the  combat  willingly. 

Pet.  Alas,  my  lord,  I  cannot  fight ;  for  God's  sake,  pity 
my  case  !  The  spite  of  man  prevaileth  against  me.  —  O 
Lord,  have  mercy  upon  me  !  I  shall  never  be  able  to  fight  a 
blow  :  O  Lord,  my  heart ! 

Glo.   Sirrah,  or  you  must  fight,  or  else  be  hang'd. 

King.   Away  with  them  to  prison ;  and  the  day 
Of  combat  shall  be  the  last  of  the  next  month.  — 
Come,  Somerset,  we'll  see  thee  sent  away.  \_Exeunt. 


Scene  IV.  —  TTie  Same.     Tlie  Duke  of  Gloster's  Garden. 
Enter  Margery  Jourdaix,  Hume,  Southwell,  and  Boung- 

BROKE. 

Hume.  Come,  my  masters  ;  the  duchess,  I  tell  you,  ex- 
pects perfonnance  of  your  promises. 

Boiing.  Master  Hume,  we  are  therefore  provided :  will 
her  ladyship  behold  and  hear  our  exorcisms  ?  ^ 

Hume.   Ay,  what  else  ?  fear  you  not  her  courage. 

Boiing.  I  have  heard  her  reported  to  be  a  woman  of  an 
invincible  spirit ;  but  it  shall  be  convenient,  Master  Hume, 
that  you  be  by  her  aloft,  while  we  be  busy  below ;  and  so,  I 
pray  you,  go  in  God's  name,  and  leave  us.  [^Exit  Hume.]  — 

1  Exorcism  and  exorcise  mean  in  Shakesjjeare  just  the  reverse  of  what 
they  do  now;  that  is,  the  act  di calling  up  spirits,  not  of  driving  them  moay. 
See  vol.  iv.  page  124,  note  30. 


156  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  act  1. 

Mother  Jourdain,  be  you  prostrate,  and  grovel  on  the  earth ; 
—  John  Southwell,  read  you  ;  —  and  let  us  to  our  work. 

Enter  the  Duchess  above  ;  and  presently  Hume. 

Duch.  Well  said,  my  masters  ;  and  welcome  all.  To  this 
gear ;  ^  the  sooner  the  better. 

Boling.    Patience,  good  lady  ;  wizards  know  their  times  : 
Deep  night,  dark  night,  the  silent  of  the  night,^ 
The  time  of  night  when  Troy  was  set  on  fire  ; 
The  time  when  screech-owls  cry,  and  ban-dogs'*  howl, 
And  spirits  walk,  and  ghosts  break  up  their  graves  ; 
That  time  best  fits  the  work  we  have  in  hand. 
Madam,  sit  you,  and  fear  not :  whom  we  raise, 
We  will  make  fast  within  a  hallow'd  verge. 

\_Here  they  do  the  ceremonies  belonging,  and  make  the 
circle ;  Bolingbroke  or  Southwell  reads,  Con- 
juro  te,  &c.  It  thunders  and  lightens  terribly ; 
then  the  Spirit  riseth. 

Spir.   Adsuni. 

M.  Jour.    Asmath, 
By  the  eternal  God,  whose  name  and  power 
Thou  tremblest  at,  answer  that  I  shall  ask ; 
For,  till  thou  speak,  thou  shaltTiot  pass  from  hence. 

Spir.    Ask  what  thou  wilt :  —  that  I  had  said  and  done  !  ^ 

2  Gear  was  formerly  used  for  any  matter  or  business  in  hand.  See  vol. 
iii.  page  118,  note  25. 

3  A  similar  expression  occurs  in  2  Henry  IV.,  v.  3  :  "  Now  comes  in  the 
sweet  of  the  night."  Likewise  in  The  Tempest,  i.  2 :  "  Urchins  shall,  for  that 
vast  of  night  that  they  may  work,  all  exercise  on  thee." 

■*  Dan-dog,  or  band-dog,  any  great  fierce  dog  which  required  to  be  tied 
or  chained  up.  "  Canis  Molossus,  a  mastive,  beare-dog,  or  bull-dog."  It  is 
sometimes  called  in  the  dictionaries  canis  catenarius." 

s  That  is,  "Would  that  I  had  said  and  done!"  It  was  believed  that 
spirits  raised  by  incantations  were  impatient  of  delay  and  reluctant  to 
answer. 


SCENE  IV.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  157 

Boling.  [Reading  out  of  a  paper.]    First  of  the  King: 
what  shall  of  him  become  ? 

Spir.  The  duke  yet  lives  that  Henry  shall  depose  ; 
But  him  outlive,  and  die  a  violent  death. 

\As  the  Spirit  speaks,  Southwell  writes  the  answers. 

Boling.    M^at  fates  await  the  Duke  of  Suffolk  ? 

Spir.    By  water  shall  he  die,  and  take  his  end. 

BoUng.    iVhat  shall  befall  the  Duke  of  Somerset  f 

Spir.    Let  him  shun  castles  ; 

ifer  shall  he  be  upon  the  sandy  plains 

lan  where  castles  mounted  stand. 

ive  done,  for  more  I  hardly  can  endure. 

Boling.   Descend  to  darkness  and  the  burning  lake  ! 
•"oul  fiend,  avoid  !    \Thunder  and  lightning.    '$>\)]X\\.  descends. 

"inter  York  and  Buckingham,  breaking  in  with  their  Guards. 

York.   Lay  hands  upon  these  traitors  and  their  trash.  — 

;ldam,  I  think  we  watch'd  you  at  an  inch.  — 

lat,  madam,  are  you  there?  the  King  and  commonweal 
re  deep-indebted  for  this  piece  of  pains  : 
[y  Lord  Protector  will,  I  doubt  it  not, 
;e  you  well  guerdon'd  for  these  good  deserts. 

Jhich.   Not  half  so  bad  as  thine  to  England's  King, 
njurious  duke,  that  threatest  where's  no  cause. 

Buck.   True,  madam,  none  at  all :  what  call  you  this  ?  — 

\_Showing  her  the  papers. 
Lway  with  them  !  let  them  be  clapp'd  up  close, 

id  kept  asunder.  —  You,  madam,  shall  with  us.  — 

ford,  take  her  to  thee.  — 
Te'll  see  your  trinkets  here  forthcoming  all.  — 
^way  !  \Exeunt,  abo-ce.  Duchess  and  Hume,  guarded. 

\Exeunt,  below,  SourmvELL,  Bolingbroke,  cs'c,  guarded. 

York.   Lord  Buckingham,  methinks  you  watch'd  her  well : 

pretty  plot,  well  chosen  to  build  upon  ! 


158  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  I. 

Now,  pray,  my  lord,  let's  see  the  Devil's  writ. 

What  have  we  here  ? 

[Reads.]  The  duke  yet  lives  that  Henry  shall  depose  ; 

But  him  outlive,  and  die  a  violent  death. 

Why,  this  is  just 

Aio  te,  /Eacida,  Romanes  vincere  posse. ^ 

Well,  to  the  rest : 

Tell  me  what  fate  awaits  the  Duke  of  Suffolk  ?  "^ 

By  water  shall  he  die,  and  take  his  end. 

Wliat  shall  betide  the  Duke  of  Somerset? 

Let  him  shun  castles  ; 

Safer  shall  he  be  upon  the  sandy  plains 

Than  where  castles  mounted  stand. 

Come,  come,  my  lord ; 

These  oracles  are  hardily  attain'd, 

And  hardly  understood.** 

The  King  is  now  in  progress  towards  Saint  Alban's, 

With  him  the  husband  of  this  lovely  lady  : 

Thither  go  these  news,  as  fast  as  horse  can  carry  them ; 

A  sorry  breakfast  for  my  Lord  Protector. 

Buck.  Your  Grace  shall  give  me  leave,  my  Lord  of  York, 
To  be  the  post,  in  hope  of  his  reward. 

York.   At  your  pleasure,  my  good  lord.  —  Who's  within 

there,  ho  ! 

Enter  a  Servant. 

Invite  my  Lords  of  Salisbury  and  Warwick 

To  sup  with  me  to-morrow  night.  —  Away  !  \_Exeunt. 

6  The  ambiguous  oracle  which  is  said  to  have  been  given  by  the  Pythian 
Apollo  to  Pyrrhus.  The  English  of  it  is,  "  I  say  that  you,  the  son  of  ^acus, 
the  Romans  can  conquer." 

■^  Here,  again,  and  also  in  the  second  line  below,  the  wording  of  the  mat- 
ter has  changed  rather  notably  in  passing  from  one  hand  to  another.  See 
page  136,  note  2. 

8  That  is,  it  requires  much  hardihood  to  obtain  them,  and  virhen  obtained 
they  are  hard  to  understand. 


SCENE  I,  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH,  1 59 

ACT  II. 

Scene  I.  —  Saint  Aldan's. 

Enter  King  Henry,  Queen  Margaret,  Gloster,  the  Cardinal, 
and  Suffolk,  with  Falconers  hallooing. 

Queen.   Believe  me,  lords,  for  flying  at  the  brook,* 
I  saw  not  better  sport  these  seven  years'  day  : 
Yet,  by  your  leave,  the  wind  was  ver}'  high ; 
And,  ten  to  one,  old  Joan  had  not  gone  out.^ 

King.    But  what  a  point,  my  lord,  your  falcon  made, 
And  what  a  pitch  she  flew  above  the  rest ! 
To  see  how  God  in  all  his  creatures  works  ! 
Yea,  man  and  birds  are  fain  ^  of  climbing  high. 

Suf.    No  marvel,  an  it  like  your  Majesty, 
My  Lord  Protector's  hawks  do  tower  so  well ; 
They  know  their  master  loves  to  be  aloft. 
And  bears  his  thoughts  above  his  falcon's  pitch. 

Glo.    My  lord,  'tis  but  a  base  ignoble  mind 
That  mounts  no  higher  than  a  bird  can  soar. 

Car.    I  thought  as  much  :  he'd  be  above  the  clouds. 

^V       1  The  falconer's  term  for  hawking  at  water-fowl.  —  Here,  as  often, y&r  is 
^K  as  for,  or  as  to  the  matter  of. 

^H       "^  Percy  explains  this,  "  The  wind  was  so  high,  it  was  ten  to  one  old  Joan 

^^mmouid  not  have  taken  her  flight  at  the  game."     Which  is  confirmed  by 

^^Katham's  Falconry,  1633 :  "  When  you  shall  come  after\vard  to  fly  her,  she 

must  be  altogether  guided  and  governed  by  her  stomacke ;  yea,  she  will  be 

kept  and  also  lost  by  the  same :  for  let  her  faile  of  that  never  so  little,  and 

every  puff  of  wind  will  blow  her  away  from  you ;  nay,  if  there  be  no  wind 

stirring,  yet  she  loill  wheele  and  sinke  away  from  him  and  from  his  voice, 

that  all  the  time  before  had  lured  and  trained  her  up." 

*  Fain  is  fond  or  glad.    So  Spenser : 

And  in  her  hand  she  held  a  mirror  bright. 
Wherein  her  face  she  often  viewed^»«. 


l60  THE   SECOND    PART    OF  act  il. 

Glo.   Ay,  my  Lord  Cardinal,  how  think  you  by  that  ? 
Were  it  not  good  your  Grace  could  fly  to  Heaven  ? 

King.   The  treasury  of  everlasting  joy  ! 

Car.   Thy  Heaven  is  on  Earth ;  thine  eyes  and  thoughts 
Beat  on  a  crown,''  the  treasure  of  thy  heart ; 
Pernicious  Protector,  dangerous  peer, 
That  smooth'st  ^  it  so  with  King  and  commonweal ! 

Glo.   What,  Cardinal,  is  your  priesthood  grown  peremptory  ? 
TantcBtie  animis  ccelestibus  ir(B  ? 
Churchmen  so  hot  ?  good  uncle,  hide  such  malice  ; 
For  with  such  holiness  you  well  can  do  it. 

Suf.    No  malice,  sir ;  no  more  than  well  becomes 
So  good  a  quarrel  and  so  bad  a  peer. 

Glo.   As  who,  my  lord  ? 

Suf.  Why,  as  you,  my  lord, 

An't  like  your  lordly  Lord-protectorship. 

Glo.   Why,  Suffolk,  England  knows  thine  insolence. 

Queen.    And  thy  ambition,  Gloster. 

King.  I  pr'ythee,  peace, 

Good  Queen,  and  whet  not  on  these  furious  peers ; 
For  blessed  are  the  peacemakers  on  Earth. 

Car.    Let  me  be  blessed  for  the  peace  I  make. 
Against  this  proud  Protector,  with  my  sword  ! 

Glo.    \_Asiile  to  Car.]  Faith,  holy  uncle,  would  'twere  come 
to  that ! 

Car.  \_Aside  to  Glo.]   Marry,  when  thou  darest. 

Glo.  \Aside  to  Car.]  Make  up  no  factious  numbers  for  the 
matter ; 
In  thine  own  person  answer  thy  abuse. 

•*  That  is,  "  thy  mind  is  working  on  a  crown."    So  in  The  Tempest : 

Do  not  infest  your  mind  with  beating  on 
The  strangeness  of  this  business. 

5  To  smooth  is  to  stroke,  to  caress,  to  wheedle,  to  flatter.    So  in  i.  I,  of 
lliis  play :  "  Let  not  his  smoothing  words  bewitch  your  hearts." 


SCENE  I.  KING    HENRY   THE    SIXTH.  l6l 

Car.  [Aside  to  Glo.]  Ay,  where  thou  darest  not  peep  :  an 
if  thou  darest, 
This  evening  on  the  east  side  of  the  grove. 

Xing.    How  now,  my  lords  ! 

Car.  Believe  me,  cousin  Gloster, 

Had  not  your  man  put  up  the  fowl  so  suddenly. 
We  had  had  more  sport.  —  \_Aside  to  Glo.J  Come  with  thy 
two-hand  sword.^ 

Glo.   True,  uncle. 

Car.  \_Aside  to  Glo.]  Are  ye.  advised  ?  —  the  east  side  of 
the  grove? 

Gio.   [Aside  to  Car.]  Cardinal,  I  am  with  you. 

King.    Why,  how  now,  uncle  Gloster  ! 

Glo.   Talking  of  hawking ;  nothing  else,  my  lord.  — 
[Aside  to  Car.]    Now,  by  God's  Mother,  priest,  I'll  shave 

your  crown 
For  this,  or  all  my  fence'  shall  fail. 

Car.  [Aside  to  Glo.]  Medice,  teipsum  ;^ 
Protector,  see  to't  well,  protect  yourself. 

Xing.   The  winds  grow  high  ;  so  do  your  stomachs,  lords. 
How  irksome  is  this  music  to  my  heart ! 
When  such  strings  jar,  what  hope  of  harmony? 
I  pray,  my  lords,  let  me  compound  this  strife. 

Enter  a  Townsman  of  Saint  Aidants,  crying  A  miracle  ! 

Glo.   \\Tiat  means  this  noise  ?  — 
Fellow,  what  miracle  dost  thou  proclaim?  » 

Towns.   A  miracle  !  a  miracle  ! 
Suf.    Come  to  the  King,  and  tell  him  what  miracle. 

8  The  two-hand  sword  was  sometimes  called  the  long^  sword,  and  was  in 
common  use  before  the  introduction  of  the  rapier.    Justice  Shallow,  in  The 
ferry  Wives  of  Windsor,  boasts  of  the  exploits  he  had  performed  in  his 
JUth  with  this  instrument. 
'  Ferue  is  the  art  of  defence. 
*  " Medice,  cura  teipsum"  "  Physician,  heal  thyselfl"    St.  Luke,  iv.  23. 


1 62  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  II. 

Towns.   Forsooth,  a  blind  man  at  Saint  Alban's  shrine, 
Within  this  half-hour,  hath  received  his  sight ; 
A  man  that  ne'er  saw  in  his  life  before. 

King.   Now,  God  be  praised,  that  to  believing  souls 
Gives  light  in  darkness,  comfort  in  despair  ! 

Enter  the  Mayor  of  Saint  Albaii's  and  his  Brethren;  and 
SiMPCOX,  borne  between  two  persons  in  a  chair,  his  Wife 
and  a  Multitude  following. 

Car.   Here  are  the  townsmen  on  procession, 
Come  to  present  your  Highness  with  the  man. 

King.    Great  is  his  comfort  in  this  earthly  vale. 
Though  by  his  sight  his  sin  be  multiplied. 

Glo.   Stand  by,  my  masters  :  —  bring  him  near  the  King ; 
His  Highness'  pleasure  is  to  talk  with  him. 

King.    Good  fellow,  tell  us  here  the  circumstance, 
That  we  for  thee  may  glorify  the  Lord. 
What,  hast  thou  been  long  blind,  and  now  restored  ? 

Simp.    Born  blind,  an't  please  your  Grace. 

Wife.  Ay,  indeed  was  he. 

Suf.   What  woman's  this  ? 

Wife.  His  wife,  an't  like  your  Worship. 

Glo.   Hadst  thou  been  his  mother,  thou  couldst  have  better 
told. 

King.   Where  wert  thou  born? 

Si77ip.   At  Berwick  in  the  North,  an't  like  your  Grace. 

King.    Poor  soul,  God's  goodness  hath  been  great  to  thee  : 
Let  never  day  nor  night  unhallow'd  pass. 
But  still  remember  what  the  Lord  hath  done. 

Queen.   Tell  me,  good  fellow,  earnest  thou  here  by  chance. 
Or  of  devotion,  to  this  holy  shrine  ? 

Simp.   God  knows,  of  pure  devotion  ;  being  call'd 
A  hundred  times  and  oftener,  in  my  sleep. 
By  good  Saint  Alban;  who  said,  Simpcox,  corngf  — 


I 


SCENE  I.  KING   HENRY   THE    SIXTH.  163 

Come,  offer  at  my  shrim,  and  I  will  help  thee. 

IVtfe.    Most  true,  forsooth  ;  and  many  time  and  oft 
Myself  have  heard  a  voice  to  call  him  so. 

Car.   What,  art  thou  lame  ? 

Simp.  Ay,  God  Almighty  help  me  ! 

Suf.   How  earnest  thou  so  ? 

Simp.  A  fall  off  of  a  tree. 

Wife.   A  plum-tree,  master. 

Glo.  How  long  hast  thou  been  blind. 

Simp.    O,  bom  so,  master. 

Glo.  WTiat,  and  wouldst  climb  a  tree  ? 

Simp.    But  that  in  all  my  life,  when  I  was  a  youth. 

Wife.   Too  true  ;  and  bought  his  climbing  very  dear. 

Glo.   Mass,  thou  lovedst  plums  well,  that  wouldst  ven- 
ture so. 

Simp.    Alas,  good  master,  my  wife  desired  some  damsons, 
And  made  me  climb,  with  danger  of  my  life. 

Glo.   A  subtle  knave  !  but  yet  it  shall  not  serve.  — 
Let  me  see  thine  eyes  :  wink  now  ;  —  now  open  them  : 
In  my  opinion  yet  thou  see'st  not  well. 

Simp.   Yes,  master,  clear  as  day,  I  thank  God  and  Saint 
Alban. 

Glo.   Say'st  thou  me  so  ?     What  colour  is  this  cloak  of? 

Simp.    Red,  master ;  red  as  blood. 

Glo.   \VTiy,  that's  well  said,     ^^^lat  colour  is  my  gown  of? 

Simp.    Black,  forsooth  ;  coal-black  as  jet. 

King.   WTiy,  then  thou  know'st  what  coloiu:  jet  is  of? 

Suf.   And  yet,  I  think,  jet  did  he  never  see. 

Glo.   But  cloaks  and  gowns,  before  this  day,  a  many. 

Wife.    Never,  before  this  day,  in  all  his  life. 

Glo.   Tell  me,  sirrah,  what's  my  name  ? 

Simp.   Alas,  master,  I  know  not. 

Glo.   What's  his  name? 

Simp.   I  know  not. 


164  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  II. 

Glo.   Nor  his? 

Simp.    No,  indeed,  master. 

Glo.    What's  thine  own  name  ? 

Simp.    Saunder  Simpcox,  an  if  it  please  you,  master. 

Glo.  Then,  Saunder,  sit  there,  the  lyingest  knave  in  Chris- 
tendom. If  thou  hadst  been  born  blind,  thou  mightst  as  well 
have  known  all  our  names  as  thus  to  name  the  several  colours 
we  do  wear.  Sight  may  distinguish  of  colours  ;  but  suddenly 
to  nominate  them  all,  it  is  impossible.  —  My  lords.  Saint 
Alban  here  hath  done  a  miracle  ;  and  would  ye  not  think  his 
cunning  to  be  great  that  could  restore  this  cripple  to  his  legs 
again  ? 

Simp.    O  master,  that  you  could  ! 

Glo.  My.  masters  of  Saint  Alban's,  have  you  not  beadles' 
in  your  town,  and  things  called  whips  ? 

May.   Yes,  my  lord,  if  it  please  your  Grace. 

Glo.    Then  send  for  one  presently. 

May.    Sirrah,  go  fetch  the  beadle  hither  straight. 

\_Exit  an  Attendant. 

Glo.  Now  fetch  me  a  stool  hither  by-and-by.  [^  stool 
brought  out.']  —  Now,  sirrah,  if  you  mean  to  save  yourself 
from  whipping,  leap  me  over  this  stool  and  run  away. 

Simp.   Alas,  master,  I  am  not  able  to  stand  alone  : 
You  go  about  to  torture  me  in  vain. 

Re-enter  Attendant,  with  the  Beadle. 

Glo.  Well,  sir,  we  must  have  you  find  your  legs.  —  Sirrah 
beadle,  whip  him  till  he  leap  over  that  same  stool. 

Bead.  I  will,  my  lord.  —  Come  on,  sirrah  ;  off  with  your 
doublet  quickly. 

Simp.  Alas,  master,  what  shall  I  do?  I  ani  not  able  to 
Stand.  \After  the  Beadle  hath  hit  him  once,  he  leaps 

over  the   stool  and  runs   away;   and  the 
people  follow  and  cry,  A  iniracle  ! 


SCENE  I.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  I65 

King.   O  God,  see'st  Thou  this,  and  bear'st  so  long? 

Queen.    It  made  me  laugh  to  see  the  villain  run. 

Glo.    Follow  the  knave  ;  and  take  this  drab  away. 

Wife.    Alas,  sir,  we  did  it  for  pure  need. 

Glo.  Let  them  be  whipp'd  through  every  market-town 
till  they  come  to  Berwick,  from  whence  they  came. 

\_Exeunf  Mayor,  Beadle,  Wife,  ct'c. 

Car.    Duke  Humphrey  has  done  a  miracle  to-day. 

Suf.   True ;  made  the  lame  to  leap  and  fly  away. 

Gio.    But  you  have  done  more  miracles  than  I ; 
You  made  in  a  day,  my  lord,  whole  towns  to  fly. 

Enter  Buckingham. 

King.   What  tidings  with  our  cousin  Buckingham  ? 

Buck.    Such  as  my  heart  doth  tremble  to  unfold. 
A  sort  of  naughty  persons,  lewdly  ^  bent,  — 
Under  the  countenance  and  confederacy 
Of  Lady  Eleanor,  the  Protector's  wife, 
The  ringleader  and  head  of  all  this  rout,  — 
Have  practised  dangerously  against  your  State, 
Dealing  with  witches  and  with  conjurers  : 
Whom  we  have  apprehended  in  the  fact ; 
Raising  up  wicked  spirits  from  under  ground, 
Demanding  of  King  Henry's  life  and  death. 
And  other  of  your  Highness'  Privy-Council, 
As  more  at  large  your  Grace  shall  understand. 

Car.   And  so,  my  Lord  Protector,  by  this  means 
Your  lady  is  forthcoming  yet  at  London.'" 
\Aside  to  Gloster.]    This  news,  I  think,  hath  tum'd  your 
weapon's  edge ; 

9  Sort  here  means  pack  or  set.  Often  so.  —  Lewdly  is  knavishly  or  wick- 
edly.   See  vol.  iv.  page  245,  note  25. 

1"  "Your  lady  is  forthcoming"  means  "  your  lady  is  in  citsto<fy."  — Yet  in 
the  sense  of  now.    See  vol  iv.  piage  18,  note  32. 


l66  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  tl. 

'Tis  like,  my  lord,  you  will  not  keep  your  hour. 

Glo.   Ambitious  churchman,  leave  t'  afflict  my  heart : 
Sorrow  and  grief  have  vanquish'd  all  my  powers  ; 
And,  vanquish'd  as  I  am,  I  yield  to  thee, 
Or  to  the  meanest  groom. 

King.   O  God,  what  mischiefs  work  the  wicked  ones, 
Heaping  confusion  on  their  own  heads  thereby  ! 

Queen.   Gloster,  see  here  the  tainture  of  thy  nest ; 
And  look  thyself  be  faultless,  thou  wert  best. 

Glo.    Madam,  for  myself,  to  Heaven  I  do  appeal, 
How  I  have  loved  my  King  and  commonweal : 
And,  for  my  wife,  I  know  not  how  it  stands  ; 
Sorry  I  am  to  hear  what  I  have  heard  : 
Noble  she  is ;  but,  if  she  have  forgot 
Honour  and  virtue,  and  conversed  with  such 
As,  like  to  pitch,  defile  nobility, 
I  banish  her  my  bed  and  company. 
And  give  her,  as  a  prey,  to  law  and  shame, 
That  hath  dishonour'd  Gloster's  honest  name. 

King.   Well,  for  this  night  we  will  repose  us  here : 
To-morrow  toward  London  back  again, 
To  look  into  this  business  thoroughly. 
And  call  these  foul  offenders  to  their  answers ; 
And  poise  the  cause  in  justice'  equal  scales. 
Whose  beam  stands  sure,  whose  rightful  cause  prevails. 

{Flourish.     Exeunt. 


Scene  II.  —  London.     The  Duke  ^/York's  Garden. 

Enter  York,  Salisbury,  and  Warwick. 

York.   Now,  my  good  Lords  of  Salisbury  and  Warwick, 
Our  simple  supper  ended,  give  me  leave. 


SCENE  II.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  16/ 

In  this  close  ^  walk,  to  satisfy  myself, 
In  craving  your  opinion  of  my  title, 
Which  is  infallible,  to  England's  crown. 

Sa/.   My  lord,  I  long  to  hear  it  at  the  full. 

War.   Sweet  York,  begin  :  an  if  thy  claim  be  good. 
The  Nevilles  are  thy  subjects  to  command. 

York.   Then  thus : 
Edward  the  Third,  my  lords,  had  seven  sons  : 
The  first,  Edward  the  Black  Prince,  Prince  of  Wales ; 
The  second,  William  of  Hatfield  ;  and  the  third, 
Lionel  Duke  of  Clarence  ;  next  to  whom 
Was  John  of  Gaunt,  the  Duke  of  Lancaster ; 
The  fifth  was  Edmund  Langley,  Duke  of  York ; 
The  sixth  was  Thomas  of  Woodstock,  Duke  of  Gloster ; 
William  of  Windsor  was  the  seventh  and  last. 
Edward  the  Black  Prince  died  before  his  father ; 
And  left  behind  him  Richard,  his  only  son, 
Who,  after  Edward  Third's  death,  reign'd  as  King ; 
Till  Henry  Bolingbroke,  Duke  of  Lancaster, 
The  eldest  son  and  heir  of  John  of  Gaunt, 
Crown'd  by  the  name  of  Henry  the  Fourth, 
Seized  on  the  realm,  deposed  the  rightful  King, 
Sent  his  poor  Queen  to  France,  fi-om  whence  she  came, 
And  him  to  Pomfret ;  where,  as  all  you  know, 
Harmless  Richard  was  murder'd  traitorously. 

War.    Father,  the  duke  hath  told  the  very  truth  ; 
Thus  got  the  House  of  Lancaster  the  crown. 

York.    \Vhich  now  they  )iold  by  force,  and  not  by  right ; 
For  Richard,  the  first  son's  heir,  being  dead. 
The  issue  of  the  next  son  should  have  reign'd. 

Sal.   But  William  of  Hatfield  died  without  an  heir. 


■ 


1  Close  is  secret ;  a  very  frequent  meaning  of  the  word.  —  For  what  fol- 
lows in  this  scene,  see  page  41,  note  i,  and  page  47,  note  i. 


l68  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  II. 

York.   The  third  son,  Duke  of  Clarence,  —  from  whose 
line 
I  claim  the  crown,  —  had  issue,  Philippe,  a  daughter, 
Who  married  Edmund  Mortimer,  Earl  of  March  : 
Edmund  had  issue,  Roger  Earl  of  March ; 
Roger  had  issue,  Edmund,  Anne,  and  Eleanor. 

Sal.   This  Edmund,  in  the  reign  of  Bolingbroke, 
As  I  have  read,  laid  claim  unto  the  crown ; 
And,  but  for  Owen  Glendower,  had  been  king, 
Who  kept  him  in  captivity  till  he  died.^ 
But,  to  the  rest. 

York.  His  eldest  sister,  Anne, 

My  mother,  being  heir  unto  the  crown, 
Married  Richard  Earl  of  Cambridge  ;  who  was  son 
To  Edmund  Langley,  Edward  Third's  fifth  son. 
By  her  I  claim  the  kingdom  :  she  was  heir 
To  Roger  Earl  of  March  ;  who  was  the  son 
Of  Edmund  Mortimer  ;  who  married  Philippe, 
Sole  daughter  unto  Lionel  Duke  of  Clarence  : 
So,  if  the  issue  of  the  elder  son 
Succeed  before  the  younger,  I  am  king. 

2  We  have  here  a  strange  piece  of  historical  confusion.  In  i  King 
Henry  the  Fourth,  Shakespeare,  following  the  chroniclers,  confounds  Sir 
Edmund  Mortimer  with  the  young  Earl  of  March,  whose  name  was  also 
Edmund  Mortimer.  Early  in  the  reign  of  Henry  IV.,  Sir  Edmund,  being 
sent  with  an  army  against  Owen  Glendower,  was  taken  prisoner  by  him,  but 
not  long  after  was  released,  married  to  his  daughter,  and  joined  with  the 
Percys  in  their  great  rebellion  against  the  King.  Lord  Grey  of  Ruthven, 
who  had  also  married  a  daughter  of  Glendower,  getting  afterwards  into  a 
war  with  his  father-in-law,  likewise  fell  into  his  hands,  and  died  in  captivity. 
Here,  then,  we  have  a  double  confusion ;  In  the  first  place,  Edmund,  Iiarl 
of  March,  is  confounded  with  his  uncle.  Sir  Edmund  Mortimer;  and  in  the 
second  place.  Sir  Edmund,  having  been  sometime  captive  to  his  father-in- 
law,  is  confounded  with  Lord  Grey,  who  was  held  in  captivity  by  his  father- 
in-law  till  he  died.  In  the  preceding  play  this  same  Earl  of  March  is 
represented  as  dying  an  old  man  in  the  Tower  at  London,  where  he  had 
been  detained  not  by  Glendower,  but  by  the  King.    See  page  47,  note  i. 


SCENE  II.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  I69 

War.    \\'hat  plain  proceeding  is  more  plain  than  this  ? 
Henry  doth  claim  the  crown  from  John  of  Gaunt, 
The  fourth  son ;  York  doth  claim  it  from  the  third. 
Till  Lionel's  issue  fails,  his  should  not  reign  : 
It  fails  not  yet,  but  flourishes  in  thee. 
And  in  thy  sons,  fair  sHps  of  such  a  stock. 
Then,  father  Salisbury,  kneel  we  together ; 
And,  in  this  private  plot,^  be  we  the  first 
That  shall  salute  our  rightful  sovereign 
With  honour  of  his  birthright  to  the  crown. 

Bof/t.   Long  live  our  sovereign  Richard,  England's  King ! 

York.    We  thank  you,  lords.     But  I  am  not  your  king 
Till  I  be  crown'd,  and  that  my  sword  be  stain'd 
With  heart-blood  of  the  House  of  Lancaster  ; 
And  that's  not  suddenly  to  be  perform 'd. 
But  with  advice  '*  and  silent  secrecy. 
Do  you  as  I  do  in  these  dangerous  days  : 
Wink  at  the  Duke  of  Suffolk's  insolence, 
At  Beaufort's  pride,  at  Somerset's  ambition, 
At  Buckingham,  and  all  the  crew  of  them, 
Till  they  have  snared  the  shepherd  of  the  flock, 
That  virtuous  prince,  the  good  Duke  Humphrey : 
'Tis  that  they  seek ;  and  they,  in  seeking  that, 
Shall  find  their  deaths,  if  York  can  prophesy. 

Sa/.    My  lord,  break  off;  we  know  your  mind  at  full. 

IVar.    My  heart  assures  me  that  the  Earl  of  Warwick 
Shall  one  day  make  the  Duke  of  York  a  king. 

York.  And,  Neville,  this  I  do  assure  myself, 
Richard  shall  live  to  make  the  Earl  of  Warwick 
The  greatest  man  in  England  but  the  King.  {^Exatnt. 

3  "  Private  plot "  is  sequestered  place  ;  the  c/ose  walk  of  note  3. 
<  Advice  \s  forethought  or  deliberation.    Often  so. 


I/O  THE    SECOND    PART    OF 


Scene  III.  —  The  Same.     A  Hall  of  Justice. 

Trumpets  sounded.  Enter  King  Henry,  Queen  Margaret, 
Gloster,  York,  Suffolk,  and  Salisbury  ;  the  Duchess  of 
Gloster,  Margery  Jourdain,  Southwell,  Hume,  and 
BoLiNGBROKE,  under  guard. 

King.    Stand  forth,  Dame  Eleanor  Cobham,  Gloster's  wife  : 
In  sight  of  God  and  us,  your  guilt  is  great : 
Receive  the  sentence  of  the  law,  for  sins 
Such  as  by  God's  book  are  adjudged  to  death.  — 
\To  Jourdain,  <5r'<r.]  You  four,  from  hence  to  prison  back 

again ; 
From  thence  unto  the  place  of  execution  : 
The  witch  in  Smithfield  shall  be  burn'd  to  ashes, 
And  you  three  shall  be  strangled  on  the  gallows.  — 
You,  madam,  for  you  are  more  nobly  born, 
Despoiled  of  your  honour  in  your  life. 
Shall,  after  three  days'  open  penance  done, 
Live  in  your  country  here,  in  banishment. 
With  Sir  John  Stanley,  in  the  Isle  of  Man. 

Duch.    Welcome  is  banishment ;  welcome  were  my  death. 

Glo.   Eleanor,  the  law,  thou  see'st,  hath  judged  thee  : 
I  cannot  justify  whom  the  law  condemns.  — 

\_Exeunt  the  Duchess  and  the  other  prisoners,  guarded_ 
Mine  eyes  are  full  of  tears,  my  heart  of  grief. 
Ah,  Humphrey,  this  dishonour  in  thine  age 
Will  bring  thy  head  with  sorrow  to  the  ground  !  — 
Beseech  your  Majesty,  give  me  leave  to  go ; 
Sorrow  would  solace,  and  mine  age  would  ease.* 

King.    Stay,  Humphrey  Duke  of  Gloster  :  ere  thou  go, 
Give  up  thy  staff :  Henry  will  to  himself 

1  Would,  in  this  line,  is  equivalent  to  would  have 


\ 


SCENE  111.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  I7I 

Protector  be ;  and  God  shall  be  my  hope, 
My  stay,  my  guide,  and  lantern  to  my  feet : 
And  go  in  peace,  Humphrey,  no  less  beloved 
Than  when  thou  wert  protector  to  thy  King. 

Queen.    I  see  no  reason  why  a  king  of  years 
Should  be  to  be  protected  like  a  child. 
God  and  King  Henry  govern  England's  helm  ! 
Give  up  your  staff,  sir,  and  the  King  his  realm. 

Glo.    My  staff!  here,  noble  Henry,  is  my  staff: 
As  willingly  do  I  the  same  resign 
As  e'er  thy  father  Henry  made  it  mine ; 
And  even  as  willingly  at  thy  feet  I  leave  it 
As  others  would  ambitiously  receive  it. 
Farewell,  good  King :  when  I  am  dead  and  gone. 
May  honourable  peace  attend  thy  throne  !  \_Exit. 

Queen.   Why,  now  is  Henry  king,  and  Margaret  queen ; 
And  Humphrey  Duke  of  Gloster  scarce  himself, 
That  bears  so  shrewd  a  maim  ;  two  pulls  at  once, 
His  lady  banish'd,  and  a  limb  lopp'd  off : 
This  staff  of  honour  raught,^  there  let  it  stand 
Where  it  best  fits  to  be,  —  in  Henry's  hand. 

Suf.   Thus  droops  this  lofty  pine,  and  hangs  his  sprays ; 
Thus  Eleanor's  pride  dies  in  her  youngest  days.^ 

York.    Lords,  let  him  go.''  —  Please  it  your  Majesty, 
This  is  the  day  appointed  for  the  combat ; 
And  ready  are  th'  appellant  and  defendant. 
The  armourer  and  his  man,  to  enter  the  lists, 

2  Raught  is  the  old  preterite  of  to  reach.     Here  it  means  attained, 

*  The  meaning  probably  is,  "  Eleanor's  pride  dies  in  its  youngest  days." 
I  have  rejjeatedly  noted  that  its  was  not  then  an  accepted  word,  though  the 
Poet  has  it  a  number  of  times,  especially  in  his  later  plays.  Generally  he 
uses  his  or  her  instead.  —  Pride  here  means  state,  grandeur,  splendour,  the 
object-matter  of  pride.    Often  so. 

*  That  is,  "  let  him  pass  out  of  your  thotights."  Gloster  has  already  left 
the  stage. 


1/2  THE    SECOND    PART   OF  act  a 

So  please  your  Highness  to  behold  the  fight. 

Queen.   Ay,  good  my  lord  ;  for  purposely  theref6re 
Left  I  the  Court,  to  see  this  quarrel  tried. 

King.    O'  God's  name,  see  the  lists  and  all  things  fit : 
Here  let  them  end  it ;  and  God  defend  the  right ! 

York.    I  never  saw  a  fellow  worse  bested, 
Or  more  afraid  to  fight,  than  is  th'  appellant. 
The  servant  of  this  armourer,  my  lords. 

Enter, on  one  side,  Horner,  bearing  his  staff  with  a  sa7id-bag^ 
fastened  to  it,  and  a  drum  before  him;  and  accompanied  by 
his  Neighbours,  who  drink  to  him  so  much  that  he  becomes 
drunk  ;  enter,  on  the  other  side,  Peter,  with  a  similar  staff 
and  a  drum;  and  accompanied  by  Prentices  drinking  to  him. 

.  I  Neigh.  Here,  neighbour  Horner,  I  drink  to  you  in  a  cup 
of  sack  :  and  fear  not,  neighbour,  you  shall  do  well  enough. 

2  Neigh.    And  here,  neighbour,  here's  a  cup  of  charneco.*^ 

J  Neigh.  And  here's  a  pot  of  good  double-beer,  neighbour  : 
drink,  and  fear  not  your  man. 

Hor.  Let  it  come,  i'faith,  and  I'll  pledge  you  all ;  and  a 
fig  for  Peter  ! 

7  Pren.    Here,  Peter,  I  drink  to  thee  :  and  be  not  afraid. 

2  Pren.  Be  merry,  Peter,  and  fear  not  thy  master :  fight 
for  credit  of  the  prentices. 

Peter.  I  thank  you  all :  drink,  and  pray  for  me,  I  pray 
you ;  for  I  think  I  have  taken  my  last  draught  in  this  world. 

^  As,  according  to  the  old  law  of  duels,  knights  were  to  fight  with  the 
lance  and  sword,  so  those  of  lower  rank  fought  with  a  staff,  to  the  further 
end  of  which  was  fastened  a  bag  crammed  hard  with  sand.  The  custom  is 
very  ancient,  as  it  is  mentioned  by  St.  Chrysostom. 

6  Charneco  appears  to  have  been  a  kind  of  sweet  wine.  Steevens  says 
Ckarneco  is  the  name  of  a  village  in  Portugal  where  this  wine  was  made. 
It  is  frequently  mentioned  by  old  writers.  So,  in  Wit's  Miserie,  or  the 
World's  Mildness,  1596,  it  is  said  that  "  three  cups  of  charneco  fasting  is  the 
only  medicine  for  the  fieghm."  And  in  The  Puritan,  a  comedy :  "  Come, 
my  inestimable  bullies,  we'll  talk  of  your  noble  acts  in  sparkling  charneco" 


SCENE  III.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  I73 

—  Here,  Robin,  an  if  I  die,  I  give  thee  my  apron  : — and,  Will, 
thou  shalt  have  my  hammer :  —  and  here,  Tom,  take  all  the 
money  that  I  have.  —  O  Lord  bless  me,  I  pray  God  !  for  I  am 
never  able  to  deal  with  my  master,  he  hath  learnt  so  much 
fence  already. 

Sai.  Come,  leave  your  drinking,  and  fall  to  blows.  —  Sir- 
rah, what's  thy  name  ? 

Peter.    Peter,  forsooth. 

Sal.    Peter  !  what  more  ? 

Peter.   Thump. 

Sal.  Thump  !  then  see  thou  thump  thy  master  well. 

Hor.  Masters,  I  am  come  hither,  as  it  were,  upon  my 
man's  instigation,  to  prove  him  a  knave,  and  myself  an  honest 
man  :  and,  touching  the  Duke  of  York,  I  will  take  my  death, 
I  never  meant  him  any  ill,  nor  the  King,  nor  the  Queen  :  — 
and  therefore,  Peter,  have  at  thee  with  a  downright  blow  1 

York.  Dispatch  : — this  knave's  tongue  begins  to  double.  — 
Sound,  trumpets,  'larum  to  the  combatants  ! 

\Alarum.     They  fight,  and  Peter  strikes  down  Horner. 

Hor.    Hold,  Peter,  hold  !     I  confess,  I  confess  treason. 

[Z>/Vj. 

York.  Take  away  his  weapon.  —  Fellow,  thank  God,  and 
the  good  wine  in  thy  master's  way.'' 

Peter.  O  God,  have  I  overcome  mine  enemy  in  this 
presence  ?     O  Peter,  thou  hast  prevail'd  in  right ! 

King.    Go  and  take  hence  that  traitor  from  our  sight ; 
For  by  his  death  we  do  perceive  his  guilt : 
And  God  in  justice  hath  reveal'd  to  us 
The  truth  and  innocence  of  this  poor  fellow. 
Which  he  had  thought  t'  have  murder'd  wrongfully.  — 
Come,  fellow,  follow  us  for  thy  reward.     \Flourish.  Exeunt 

"^  That  is,  "  the  good  wine  that  disabled  thy  master  y&r  thejightl' 


1 74  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  II. 

Scene  IV.  —  The  Same.     A  Street. 
Enter  Gloster  and  Servants,  in  mourning  cloaks. 

Glo.   Thus  sometimes  hath  the  brightest  day  a  cloud ; 
And  after  Summer  evermore  succeeds 
Bare  Winter,  with  his  wrathful-nipping  cold : 
So  cares  and  joys  abound,  as  seasons  fleet.  — 
Sirs,  what's  o'clock? 

Serv.    Ten,  my  lord. 

Gio.   Ten  is  the  hour  that  was  appointed  me 
To  watch  the  coming  of  my  punish'd  duchess  : 
Uneath  ^  may  she  endure  the  flinty-streets, 
To  tread  them  with  her  tender-feeling  feet. 
Sweet  Nell,  ill  can  thy  noble  mind  abrook 
The  abject  people  gazing  on  thy  face 
With  envious  ^  looks,  and  laughing  at  thy  shame, 
That  erst  did  follow  thy  proud  chariot-wheels 
When  thou  didst  ride  in  triumph  through  the  streets. 
But,  soft !  I  think  she  comes ;  and  I'll  prepare 
My  tear-stain'd  eyes  to  see  her  miseries. 

Enter  the  Duchess  of  Gloster  in  a  white  sheet,  with  papers 
pinned  upon  her  back,  her  feet  bare,  and  a  taper  burning 
in  her  hand;  Sir  John  Stanley,  a  Sheriff,  and  Officers. 

Serv.    So  please  your  Grace,  we'll  take  her  from  the  sheriff". 

Glo.    No,  stir  not,  for  your  lives  \  let  her  pass  by. 

Duch.    Come  you,  my  lord,  to  see  my  open  shame? 
Now  thou  dost  penance  too.     Look  how  they  gaze  ! 
See  how  the  giddy  multitude  do  point. 
And  nod  their  heads,  and  throw  their  eyes  on  thee  ! 

1  Uneath  is  hardly,  or  not  easily  ;  eath  being  an  old  form  of  ease. 
'  Here,  as  usual  in  Shakespeare,  envious  means  malicious.  —  Erst,  next 
line,  Ss  formerly  or  once. 


SCENE  IV.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  1/5 

Ah,  Gloster,  hide  thee  from  their  hateful  looks, 

And,  in  thy  closet  pent  up,  rue  my  shame, 

And  ban  ^  thine  enemies,  both  mine  and  thine  ! 
Glo.    Be  patient,  gentle  Nell ;  forget  this  grieC 
Duch.    Ah,  Gloster,  teach  me  to  forget  myself! 

For,  whilst  I  think  I  am  thy  married  wife. 

And  thou  a  prince,  Protector  of  this  land, 

Methinks  I  should  not  thus  be  led  along, 

Mail'd  up  in  shame,^  with  papers  on  my  back. 

And  foUow'd  with  a  rabble,  that  rejoice 

To  see  my  tears  and  hear  my  deep-fet  ^  groans. 

The  ruthless  flint  doth  cut  my  tender  feet ; 

And,  when  I  start,  the  envious  people  laugh, 

And  bid  me  be  advised  ^  how  I  tread. 

Ah,  Humphrey,  can  I  bear  this  shameful  yoke  ? 

Trow'st  thou  that  e'er  I'll  look  upon  the  world. 

Or  count  them  happy  that  enjoy  the  Sun? 

No  ;  dark  shall  be  my  light,  and  night  my  day ; 

To  think  upon  my  pomp  shall  be  my  hell. 

Sometime  I'll  say,  I  am  Duke  Humphrey's  wife ; 

And  he  a  prince,  and  ruler  of  the  land  : 

Yet  so  he  ruled,  and  such  a  prince  he  was. 

As  he  stood  by,  whilst  I,  his  f6rlom  duchess. 

Was  made  a  wonder  and  a  pointing-stock 

'  To  ban  is  to  curse,  or  execrate.  —  "  Hateful  looks,"  second  line  before, 
islooVs  full  of  hatred  :  malignant. 

*  That  is,  wrapped  or  bundled  up  in  disgrace,  referring,  of  course,  to  the 
sheet  of  penance.  So  Randle  Holme  :  "  Mail  a  hawk  is  to  wrap  her  up  in 
a  handkerchief  or  other  cloath,  that  she  may  not  be  able  to  stir  her  wings 
or  struggle."  And  in  Drayton's  Epistle  of  Eleanor  Cobham  to  Dukt 
Humphrey  : 

Should  after  see  me  mayld  up  in  a  sheet. 
Doe  shameful  penance  three  times  in  the  street. 

6  Fet  is  an  old  form  of  fetched.    The  Poet  has  it  repeatedly. 

*  Advised  is  wary,  careful,  circumspect.     See  page  169,  note  4. 


iy6  THE    SECOND    PART   OF  ACT  ir. 

To  every  idle  rascal  follower. 

But  be  thou  mild,  and  blush  not  at  my  shame ; 

Nor  stir  at  nothing,  till  the-  axe  of  death 

Hang  over  thee,  as,  sure,  it  shortly  will ; 

For  Suffolk,  —  he  that  can  do  all  in  all 

With  her  that  hateth  thee  and  hates  us  all,  — 

And  York,  and  impious  Beaufort,  that  false  priest, 

Have  all  limed  bushes  to  betray  thy  wings. 

And,  fly  thou  how  thou  canst,  they'll  tangle  thee : 

But  fear  not  thou,  until  thy  foot  be  snared, 

Nor  never  seek  prevention  of  thy  foes. 

G/o.    Ah,  Nell,  forbear  !  thou  aimest  all  awry ; 
I  must  offend  before  I  be  attainted  : 
And  had  I  twenty  times  so  many  foes. 
And  each  of  them  had  twenty  times  their  power, 
All  these  could  not  procure  me  any  scathe,' 
So  long  as  I  am  loyal,  true,  and  crimeless. 
Wouldst  have  me  rescue  thee  from  this  reproach? 
Why,  yet  thy  scandal  were  not  wiped  away, 
But  I  in  danger  for  the  breach  of  law. 
Thy  greatest  help  is  quiet,  gentle  Nell : 
I  pray  thee,  sort  thy  heart  to  patience ;  ^ 
These  few  days'  wonder  will  be  quickly  worn. 

Enter  a  Herald. 

Her.    I  summon  your  Grace  to  his  Majesty's  Parliament, 
holden  at  Bury  the  first  of  this  next  month. 

Glo.   And  my  consent  ne'er  ask'd  herein  before  ! 
This  is  close  dealing.    Well,  I  will  be  there.  — 

l^Exit  Herald. 

■^  Scathe  is  hurt  or  damage.     We  still  use  scathless. 

*  That  is,  frame,  adapt,  or  attemper  thy  heart  to  patience.    So  in  Lucrece : 

Her  mistress  she  doth  give  demure  good-morrow, 

And  sorts  a  sad  look  to  her  lady's  sorrow, 

For  why  her  face  wore  sorrow's  livery. 


, 


SCENE  IV.  KING    HE^fRY    THE    SIXTH.  1/7 

My  Nell,  I  take  my  leave  :  —  and,  master  sheriff, 
Let  not  her  penance  exceed  the  King's  commission. 

Sher.    An't  please  your  Grace,  here  my  commission  stays ; 
And  Sir  John  Stanley  is  appointed  now 
To  take  her  with  him  to  the  Isle  of  Man. 

Glo.   Must  you,  Sir  John,  protect  my  lady  there? 

Sian.  So  am  I  given  in  charge,  may't  please  your  Grace. 

Glo.   Entreat  her  not  the  worse,  in  that  I  pray 
You  use  her  well :  the  world  may  laugh  again  ;  ^ 
And  I  may  live  to  do  you  kindness,  if 
You  do  it  her :  and  so,  Sir  John,  farewell ! 

Duch.   What,  gone,  my  lord,  and  bid  me  not  farewell ! 

Glo.   Witness  my  tears,  I  cannot  stay  to  speak. 

\_Exeunt  Gloster  and  Servants. 

Duch.    Art  thou  gone  too  ?  all  comfort  go  with  thee  ! 
For  none  abides  with  me  :  my  joy  is  death,  — 
Death,  at  whose  name  I  oft  have  been  afeard, 
Because  I  wish'd  this  world's  eternity.  — 
Stanley,  I  pr'ythee,  go,  and  take  me  hence ; 
I  care  not  whither,  for  I  beg  no  favour. 
Only  convey  me  where  thou  art  commanded. 

Stan.     Why,  madam,  that  is  to  the  Isle  of  Man ; 
There  to  be  used  according  to  your  state. 

Duch.   That's  bad  enough,  for  I  am  but  reproach ; 
And  shall  I  then  be  used  reproachfully? 

Stan.    Like  to  a  duchess,  and  Duke  Humphrey's  lady ; 
According  to  that  state  you  shall  be  used. 

Duch.   Sheriff,  farewell,  and  better  than  I  fare. 
Although  thou  hast  been  conduct'"  of  my  shame. 

Sher.    It  is  my  office  ;  and,  madam,  pardon  me. 

Duch.   Ay,  ay,  farewell ;  thy  office  is  discharged.  — 
Come,  Stanley,  shall  we  go? 

9  Meaning,  "  the  world  may  smile  on  me  again." 

W  Conduct  for  conductor.     Repeatedly  so.     See  vol.  v.  page  208,  note  aa 


1/8  THE    SECOND    PART   OF  ACT  ill. 

Stan.   Madam,  your  penance  done,  throw  off  this  sheet, 
And  go  we  to  attire  you  for  our  journey. 

Duch.   My  shame  will  not  be  shifted  with  my  sheet : 
No,  it  will  hang  upon  my  richest  robes. 
And  show  itself,  attire  me  how  I  can. 
Go,  lead  the  way ;  I  long  to  see  my  prison.  [Exeunt. 


ACT   III. 
Scene  I.  —  The  Abbey  at  Biiry  St.  Edmund'* s. 

Sennet.  Enter,  to  the  Parliament,  King  Henry,  Queen 
Margaret,  Cardinal  Beaufort,  Suffolk,  York,  Bucking- 
ham, and  others. 

King.    I  muse  ^  my  Lord  of  Gloster  is  not  come  : 
'Tis  not  his  wont  to  be  the  hindmost  man, 
Whate'er  occasion  keeps  him  from  us  now. 

Queen.    Can  you  not  see  ?  or  will  ye  not  observe 
The  strangeness  of  his  alter'd  countenance  ? 
With  what  a  majesty  he  bears  himself; 
How  insolent  of  late  he  is  become, 
How  proud,  how  peremptory,  and  unlike  himself? 
We  know  the  time  since  ^  he  was  mild  and  affable ; 
And,  if  we  did  but  glance  a  far-off  look, 
Immediately  he  was  upon  his  knee, 
That  all  the  Court  admired  him  for  submission  : 
But  meet  him  now,  and,  be  it  in  the  morn, 
When  every  one  will  give  the  time  of  day, 
He  knits  his  brow,  and  shows  an  angry  eye, 

1  "  I  muse  "  is  I  wonder,  I  marvel.    A  frequent  usage. 

2  Since  is  here  equivalent  to  when.    See  vol.  iii.  page  29,  note  23. 


SCENE  I.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  1/9 

And  passeth  by  with  stiff  unbowed  knee, 

Disdaining  duty  that  to  us  belongs. 

Small  curs  are  not  regarded  when  they  grin ; 

But  great  men  tremble  when  the  lion  roars,  — 

And  Humphrey  is  no  little  man  in  England. 

First  note,  that  he  is  near  you  in  descent ; 

And,  should  you  fall,  he  is  the  next  will  moimt. 

Me  seemeth,  then,  it  is  no  policy,  — 

Respecting  3  what  a  rancorous  mind  he  bears, 

And  his  advantage  following  your  decease,  — 

That  he  should  come  about  your  royal  person. 

Or  be  admitted  to  your  Highness'  Council. 

By  flatter)'  hath  he  won  the  commons'  hearts  ; 

And,  when  he  please  to  make  commotion, 

'Tis  to  be  fear'd  they  all  will  follow  him. 

Now  'tis  the  Spring,  and  weeds  are  shallow-rooted ; 

Suffer  them  now,  and  they'll  o'ergrow  the  garden, 

And  choke  the  herbs  for  want  of  husbandry. 

The  reverent  care  I  bear  unto  my  lord 

Made  me  collect  these  dangers  in  the  duke. 

If  it  be  fond,'*  call  it  a  woman's  fear  ; 

Which  fear  if  better  reasons  can  supplant, 

I  will  subscribe,  and  say  I  wrong'd  the  duke.  — 

My  Lords  of  Suffolk,  Buckingham,  and  York, 

Reprove  ^  my  allegation,  if  you  can  ; 

Or  else  conclude  my  words  effectual. 

Suf.    Well  hath  your  Highness  seen  into  this  duke ; 
And,  had  I  first  been  put  to  speak  my  mind, 
I  think  I  should  have  told  your  Grace's  tale. 
The  duchess,  by  his  subornation, 

3  Respecting  here  has  the  exact  sense  of  considering.    Respect,  substaiv 
tive,  is  very  often  used  in  the  same  sense. 
*  Here,  as  ViSMaX,  fond  is  foolish  or  weak. 
5  Reprove  for  refute  or  disprove.     See  vol.  iv.  page  194,  note  14. 


i8o 


THE    SECOND    PART    OF 


Upon  my  life,  began  her  devilish  practices : 

Or,  if  he  were  not  privy  to  those  faults, 

Yet,  by  reputing  of  his  high  descent,^  — 

As,  next  the  King,  he  was  successive  heir, 

And  such  high  vaunts  of  his  nobility, — 

Did  instigate  the  bedlam  brain-sick  duchess 

By  wicked  means  to  frame  our  sovereign's  fall. 

Smooth  nms  the  water  where  the  brook  is  deep ; 

And  in  his  simple  show  he  harbours  treason. 

The  fox  barks  not  when  he  would  steal  the  lamb.  — 

No,  no,  my  sovereign  ;  Gloster  is  a  man 

Unsounded  yet,  and  full  of  deep  deceit. 

Car.    Did  he  not,  contrary  to  form  of  law, 
Devise  strange  deaths  for  small  offences  done  ? 

York.    And  did  he  not,  in  his  protectorship, 
Levy  great  sums  of  money  through  the  realm 
For  soldiers'  pay  in  France,  and  never  sent  it  ? 
By  means  whereof  the  towns  each  day  revolted. 

Buck.    Tut,  those  are  petty  faults  to  faults  unknown. 
Which  time  will  bring  to  light  in  smooth  Duke  Humphrey. 

King.    My  lords,  at  once  :  The  care  you  have  of  us, 
To  mow  down  thorns  that  would  annoy  our  foot, 
Is  worthy  praise  :  but  —  shall  I  speak  my  conscience?  — 
Our  kinsman  Gloster  is  as  innocent 
From  meaning  treason  to  our  royal  person 
As  is  the  sucking  lamb  or  harmless  dove  : 
The  duke  is  virtuous,  mild,  and  too  well-given' 
To  dream  on  evil,  or  to  work  my  downfall. 

Queen.   Ah,  what's  more  dangerous  than  this  fond  affi- 
ance ! 
Seems  he  a  dove?  his  feathers  are  but  borrow'd, 


*  That  is,  by  reckoning  upon,  or  making  much  of,  his  high  descent, 
T  "  Well-given  "  is  well-disposed.    So  in  Julius  Ceesar,  i.  a :  "  He  is 
noble  Roman,  and  well-given." 


SCENE  I.  KING   HENRY    THE   SIXTH.  l8l 

For  he's  disposed  as  the  hateful  raven : 
Is  he  a  lamb  ?  his  skin  is  surely  lent  him, 
For  he's  inclined  as  is  the  ravenous  wolf. 
Who  cannot  steal  a  shape  that  means  deceit? 
Take  heed,  my  lord  ;  the  welfare  of  us  all 
Hangs  on  the  cutting  short  that  fraudful  man. 

Enter  Somerset. 

Sotn.   All  health  unto  my  gracious  sovereign  ! 

King.  Welcome,  Lord  Somerset.    What  news  from  France  ? 

Som.   That  all  your  interest  in  those  territories 
Is  utterly  bereft  you  ;  all  is  lost. 

King.   Cold  news,  Lord  Somerset :  but  God's  will  be  done  ! 

York.  [^jr;V/<?.]  Cold  news  for  me  ;  for  I  had  hope  of  France 
As  firmly  as  I  hope  for  fertile  England. 
Thus  are  my  blossoms  blasted  in  the  bud, 
And  caterpillars  eat  my  leaves  away : 
But  I  will  remedy  this  gear  ere  long. 
Or  sell  my  title  for  a  glorious  grave. 

Enter  Gloster. 

Glo.   All  happiness  unto  my  lord  the  King  ! 
Pardon,  my  liege,  that  I  have  stay'd  so  long. 

Stif.    Nay,  Gloster,  know  that  thou  art  come  too  soon. 
Unless  thou  wert  more  loyal  than  thou  art : 
I  do  arrest  thee  of  high  treason  here. 

Glo.   Well,  Suffolk,  well,  thou  shalt  not  see  me  blush 
Nor  change  my  countenance  for  this  arrest : 
A  heart  unspotted  is  not  easily  daunted. 
The  purest  spring  is  not  so  free  from  mud 
As  I  am  clear  from  treason  to  my  sovereign : 
Who  can  accuse  me?  wherein  am  I  guilty? 

York.    'Tis  thought,  m)'  lord,  that  you  took  bribes  of  France, 
And,  being  Protector,  stay'd  the  soldiers'  pay ; 


1 82  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  : 

By  means  whereof  his  Highness  hath  lost  France. 

Glo.    Is  it  but  thought  so  ?  what  are  they  that  think  it  ? 
I  never  robb'd  the  soldiers  of  their  pay, 
Nor  ever  had  one  penny  bribe  from  France. 
So  help  me  God,  as  I  have  watch'd  the  night,  — 
Ay,  night  by  night,  —  in  studying  good  for  England  ! 
That  doit  that  e'er  I  wrested  from  the  King, 
Or  any  groat  I  hoarded  to  ray  use. 
Be  brought  against  me  at  my  trial-day  ! 
No  ;  many  a  pound  of  mine  own  proper  store, 
Because  I  would  not  tax  the  needy  commons, 
Have  I  dispursed  to  the  garrisons, 
And  never  ask'd  for  restitution. 

Car.    It  serves  you  well,  my  lord,  to  say  so  much. 

Glo.    I  say  no  more  than  truth,  so  help  me  God  ! 

York.    In  your  protectorship  you  did  devise 
Strange  tortures  for  offenders,  never  heard  of, 
That  England  was  defamed  by  tyranny. 

Glo.   Why,  'tis  well  known  that,  whiles  I  was  Protector. 
Pity  was  all  the  fault  that  was  in  me  ; 
For  I  should  melt  at  an  offender's  tears, 
And  lowly  words  were  ransom  for  their  fault. 
Unless  it  were  a  bloody  murderer. 
Or  foul  felonious  thief  that  fleeced  poor  passengers, 
I  never  gave  them  c6ndign  punishment : 
Murder,  indeed,  that  bloody  sin,  I  tortured 
Above  the  felon  or  what^  trespass  else. 

Suf.   My  lord,  these  faults  are  easy,^  quickly  answer'd : 
But  weightier  crimes  are  laid  unto  your  charge, 
Whereof  you  cannot  easily  purge  yourself. 
I  do  arrest  you  in  his  Highness'  name  ; 
And  here  commit  you  to  my  Lord  Cardinal 

8  What,  with  the  sense  of  the  indefinite  pronoun  whatever.     Often  so. 
3  The  adjectival  form  used  adverbially,  easy  for  easily. 


SCENE  I.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  183 

To  keep  until  your  further  time  of  trial. 

King.    My  Lord  of  Gloster,  'tis  my  special  hope 
That  you  will  clear  yourself  from  all  suspect : 
My  conscience  tells  me  you  are  innocent. 

Glo.   Ah,  gracious  lord,  these  days  are  dangerous  ! 
Virtue  is  choked  with  foul  ambition. 
And  charity  chased  hence  by  rancour's  hand ; 
Foul  subornation  is  predominant, 
And  equity  exiled  your  Highness'  land. 
I  know  their  complot  is  to  have  my  life ; 
And,  if  my  death  might  make  this  island  happy. 
And  prove  the  period  of  their  tyranny, 
I  would  expend  it  with  all  willingness  : 
But  I  am  made  the  prologue  to  their -play; 
For  thousands  more,  that  yet  suspect  no  peril. 
Will  not  conclude  their  plotted  tragedy. 
Beaufort's  red  sparkling  eyes  blab  his  heart's  malice. 
And  Suffolk's  cloudy  brow  his  stormy  hate ; 
Sharp  Buckingham  unburdens  with  his  tongue 
The  envious  load  that  lies  upon  his  heart ; 
And  dogged  York,  that  reaches  at  the  Moon, 
\Vhose  overweening  arm  I  have  pluck'd  back, 
By  false  accuse  ^^  doth  level  at  my  life  .  — 
And  you,  my  sovereign  lady,  with  the  rest, 
Causeless  have  laid  disgraces  on  my  head. 
And  with  your  best  endeavor  have  stirr'd  up 
My  liefest  ^^  liege  to  be  mine  enemy  :  — 
Ay,  all  of  you  have  laid  your  heads  together,  — 
Myself  had  notice  of  your  conventicles,  — 
And  all  to  make  away  my  guiltless  life. 
I  shall  not  want  false  witness  to  condemn  me, 

1"  Accuse  for  accusation,  just  as,  a  little  before,  suspect  iox  suspicion.    The 
Poet  shortens  many  words  in  a  similar  way;  as  dispose  for  disposititm. 
11  Liefest  is  dearest.    See  page  134,  note  1. 


184  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACTIII. 

Nor  Store  of  treasons  to  augment  my  guilt ; 
The  ancient  proverb  will  be  well  effected, '^ 
A  staff  is  quickly  found,  to  beat  a  dog. 

Car.    My  liege,  his  railing  is  intolerable  : 
If  those  that  care  to  keep  your  royal  person 
From  treason's  secret  knife  and  traitors'  rage 
Be  thus  upbraided,  chid,  and  rated  at, 
And  the  offender  granted  scope  of  speech, 
'Twill  make  them  cool  in  zeal  unto  your  Grace. 

Suf.    Hath  he  not  twit  ^-^  our  sovereign  lady  here 
^Vith  ignominious  words,  though  clerkly  couch'd. 
As  if  she  had  suborned  some  to  swear 
False  allegations  to  o'erthrow  his  state  ? 

Queen.    But  I  can  give  the  loser  leave  to  chide. 

Glo.    Far  truer  spoke  than  meant :   I  lose,  indeed ;  — 
Beshrew  the  winners,  for  they  play'd  me  false  ! 
And  well  such  losers  may  have  leave  to  speak. 

Buck.    He'll  wrest  the  sense,  and  hold  us  here  all  day  :  — 
Lord  Cardinal,  he  is  your  prisoner. 

Car.    Sirs,  take  away  the  duke,  and  guard  him  sure. 

Glo.   Ah,  thus  King  Henry  throws  away  his  crutch. 
Before  his  legs  be  firm  to  bear  his  body  ! 
Thus  is  the  shepherd  beaten  from  thy  side. 
And  wolves  are  gnarling  who  shall  gnaw  thee  first. 
Ah,  that  my  fear  were  false  !  ah,  that  it  were  ! 
For,  good  King  Henry,  thy  decay  I  fear. 

\_Exeunt  Attendants  with  Gloster  in  their  custody. 

King.    My  lords,  what  to  your  wisdoms  seemeth  best 
Do  or  undo,  as  if  ourself  were  here. 

Queen.   What,  will  your  Highness  leave  the  Parliament  ? 

King.   Ay,  Margaret ;  my  heart  is  drown'd  with  grief, 

12  Effected  here  means  carried  into  effect. 

18  Twit  for  twitted.    The  Poet  has  many  preterites  formed  in  the  same 
manner.    See  page  102,  note  n. 


SCENE  I.  KIXG    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  JS$ 

Whose  flood  begins  to  flow  within  mine  eyes ; 
My  body  round  engirt  with  miser}^,  — 
For  what's  more  miserable  than  discontent?  — 
Ah,  uncle  Humphrey,  in  thy  face  I  see 
The  map  of  honour,  truth,  and  loyalty  !  • 

And  yet,  good  Humphrey,  is  the  hour  to  come 
That  e'er  I  proved  thee  false,  or  fear'd  thy  faith. 
What  louring  star  now  envies  thy  estate, 
That  these  great  lords,  and  Margaret  our  Queen, 
Do  seek  subversion  of  thy  harmless  life  ? 
Thou  never  didst  them  wrong,  nor  no  man  wTong : 
And  as  the  butcher  takes  away  the  calf. 
And  binds  the  wretch,  and  beats  it  when  it  strays,** 
Bearing  it  to  the  bloody  slaughter-house  ; 
Even  so,  remorseless,  have  they  borne  him  hence  : 
And  as  the  dam  runs  lowing  up  and  down, 
Looking  the  way  her  harmless  young  one  went, 
And  can  do  nought  but  wail  her  darUng's  loss ; 
Even  so  myself  bewails  good  Gloster's  case 
With  sad  unhelpful  tears ;  and  with  dimm'd  eyes 
Look  after  him,  and  cannot  do  him  good, 
So  mighty  are  his  vowed  enemies. 
His  fortunes  I  will  weep  and,  'twixt  each  groan. 
Say,  Who's  ^^  a  traitor,  Gloster  he  is  none.  J^Exit 

Queen.    Fair  lords,  cold  snow  melts  with  the  Sun's   hot 
beams. 
Henry  my  lord  is  cold  in  great  affairs, 
Too  full  of  foolish  pity  :  and  Gloster's  show 
Beguiles  him  as  the  mournful  crocodile 

^*  There  is  a  seeming  contradiction  here  between  binds  and  strays. 
Ejcplained  by  Toilet  thxis:  "It  is  common  for  butchers  to  tie  a  rope  or 
halter  about  the  neck  of  a  calf  when  they  take  it  away  from  the  breeder's 
ferrn,  and  to  beat  it  gently  if  it  attempts  to  stray  from  the  direct  road." 

1*  Who  for  whoever,  just  as,  a  little  before,  what  for  whatever. 


l86  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  III, 

With  sorrow  snares  relenting  passengers  ; 
Or  as  the  snake,  roll'd  in  a  flowering  bank, 
With  shining  checker'd  slough,  doth  sting  a  child, 
That  for  the  beauty  thinks  it  excellent. 
Believe  me,  lords,  were  none  more  wise  than  I,  — 
And  yet  herein  I  judge  mine  own  wit  good,  — 
This  Gloster  should  be  quickly  rid  the  world, 
To  rid  us  from  the  fear  we  have  of  him. 

Car.   That  he  should  die  is  worthy  policy ; 
But  yet  we  want  a  colour  for  his  death  : 
*Tis  meet  he  be  condemn'd  by  course  of  law. 

Suf.    But,  in  my  mind,  that  were  no  policy  : 
The  King  will  labour  still  to  save  his  life ; 
The  commons  haply  rise  to  save  his  life  ; 
And  yet  we  have  but  trivial  argument. 
More  than  mistrust,  that  shows  him  worthy  death. 

York.    So  that,  by  this,  you  would  not  have  him  die. 

Suf.    Ah,  York,  no  man  alive  so  fain  as  I  ! 

York.    \_Aside.'\    'Tis  York  that  hath  most  reason  for   his 
death.  — 
But,  my  Lord  Cardinal,  and  you,  my  Lord  of  Suffolk,  — 
Say  as  you  think,  and  speak  it  from  your  souls,  — 
Were't  not  all  one,  an  empty  ^^  eagle  were  set 
To  guard  the  chicken  from  a  hungry  kite, 
As  place  Duke  Humphrey  for  the  King's  protector? 

Queen.    So  the  poor  chicken  should  be  sure  of  death. 

Suf.    Madam,  'tis  true  ;  and  were't  not  madness,  then, 
To  make  the  fox  surveyor  of  the  fold  ? 
Who  being  accused  a  crafty  murderer. 
His  guilt  should  be  but  idly  posted  over, 
Because  his  purpose  is  not  executed. 
No ;  let  him  die,  in  that  he  is  a  fox, 

18  Empty,  here,  is  starved  or  famished.    "  Were't  not  a!/  one  "  is  equiva- 
lent to  Were  it  not  as  well. 


SCENE  I.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  iS/ 

By  nature  proved  an  enemy  to  the  flock, 
Before  his  chops  be  stain'd  with  crimson  blood, 
As  Humphrey's  proved,  by  treasons,  to  iny  Hege. 
And  do  not  stand  on  quillets  how  to  slay  him : 
Be  it  by  gins,  by  snares,  by  subtlety. 
Sleeping  or  waking,  'tis  no  matter  how, 
So  he  be  dead ;  for  that  is  good  deceit 
Which  mates  ^^  him  first  that  first  intends  deceit. 

Queen.   Thrice-noble  Suffolk,  'tis  resolutely  spoke. 

Stif.    Not  resolute,  except  so  much  were  done  ; 
For  things  are  often  spoke,  and  seldom  meant : 
But,  that  my  heart  accordeth  with  my  tongue,  — 
Seeing  the  deed  is  meritorious. 
And  to  preserve  my  sovereign  from  his  foe,  — 
Say  but  the  word,  and  I  will  be  his  priest.'^ 

Car.   But  I  would  have  him  dead,  my  Lord  of  Suffolk, 
Ere  you  can  take  due  orders  for  a  priest : 
^y  you  consent,  and  censure  well  ^^  the  deed, 
And  I'll  provide  his  executioner; 
I  tender  so  the  safety  of  my  liege. 

Suf.    Here  is  my  hand,  the  deed  is  worthy  doing. 

Queen.    And  so  say  I. 

York.   And  I :  and,  now  we  three  have  spoken  it, 
It  skills  not  20  greatly  who  impugns  our  doom. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 
Mess.    Great  lords,  from  Ireland  am  I  come  amain, 

1'  To  mate  or  amate  was  often  used  in  the  sense  of  confound  or  overcome. 
[Dyce,  however,  says,  "  I  incline  to  believe  that  Percy  was  right,  when  he 
^observed  that  mates  is  used  here  with  an  allusion  to  chess-playing.  Pals- 
f  grave,  in  his  Lesclarcissement,  1530,  gives  not  only  "  I  mate  or  overcome, 
\Je  amcUte"  but  also  "  I  mate  at  the  chesses,  le  matte." 

18  Meaning  "  I  will  be  with  him  in  his  closing  passage  "  ;  o\,  "  I  will  at- 
tend him  through  the  dark  valley." 

19  That  is,  judge  or  think  well.     See  page  112,  note  3. 
*>  "  It  skills  not "  is  it  matters  not,  it  signifies  not.     Repeatedlv  so. 


1 88  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  act  III. 

To  signify  that  rebels  there  are  up, 

And  put  the  Englishmen  unto  the  sword  : 

Send  succours,  lords,  and  stop  the  rage  betime. 

Before  the  wound  do  grow  uncurable  ; 

For,  being  green,  there  is  great  hope  of  help. 

Car.   A  breach  that  craves  a  quick-expedient  2'  stop  ! 
What  counsel  give  you  in  this  weighty  cause  ? 

York.   That  Somerset  be  sent  as  regent  thither  : 
'Tis  meet  that  lucky  ruler  be  employ'd ; 
Witness  the  fortune  he  hath  had  in  France. 

Som.    If  York,  with  all  his  far-fet  policy, 
Had  been  the  regent  there  instead  of  me. 
He  never  would  have  stay'd  in  France  so  long. 

York.    No,  not  to  lose  it  all,  as  thou  hast  done  : 
I  rather  would  have  lost  my  life  betimes 
Than  bring  a  burden  of  dishonour  home 
By  staying  there  so  long  till  all  were  lost. 
Show  me  one  scar  chard,cter'd  on  thy  skin  : 
Men's  flesh  preserved  so  whole  doth  seldom  win. 

Queen.    Nay,  then  this  spark  will  prove  a  raging  fire. 
If  wind  and  fuel  be  brought  to  feed  it  with. — 
No  more,  good  York  ;  —  sweet  Somerset,  be  still :  — 
Thy  fortune,  York,  hadst  thou  been  regent  there, 
Might  happily  22  have  proved  far  worse  than  his. 

York.   What,  worse  than  nought?  nay,  then  a  shame  take 
all! 

Som.    And,  in  the  number,  thee  that  wishest  shame  ! 

Car.    My  Lord  of  York,  try  what  your  fortune  is. 
Th'  uncivil  kerns  -^  of  Ireland  are  in  arms. 
And  temper  clay  with  blood  of  Englishmen  : 

21  Expedient  is  expeditious  or  speedy.     See  vol.  v.  page  53,  note  4. 

22  Happily  for  haply ,  perhaps.    The  trisyllabic  form  used  for  metre's  sake. 
28  Uncivil  for  uncivilized  or  barbarous.    Kerns  were  Irish  light-armed 

foot-soldiers ;  the  same  as  Caterans. 


i 


SCENK  I.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  I89 

To  Ireland  will  you  lead  a  band  of  men. 
Collected  choicely,  from  each  county  some, 
And  try  your  hap  against  the  Irishmen  ? 

York.    I  \\\\\,  my  lord,  so  please  his  Majesty. 

Suf.   Why,  our  authority  is  his  consent ; 
And  what  we  do  establish  he  confirms  : 
Then,  noble  York,  take  thou  this  task  in  hand. 

York.    I  am  content :  provide  me  soldiers,  lords, 
^Mliles  I  take  order^**  for  mine  own  affairs. 

Suf.    A  charge.  Lord  York,  that  I  will  see  perform'd. 
But  now  return  we  to  the  false  Duke  Humphrey. 

Car.    No  more  of  him  ;  for  I  will  deal  with  him, 
That  henceforth  he  shall  trouble  us  no  more. 
And  so  break  off;  the  day  is  almost  spent : 
Lord  Suffolk,  you  and  I  must  talk  of  that  event. 

York.    My  Lord  of  Suffolk,  within  fourteen  days 
At  Bristol  I  expect  my  soldiers  ; 
For  there  I'll  ship  them  all  for  Ireland. 

Suf.   I'll  see  it  truly  done,  my  Lord  of  York. 

\_Exeunt  all  but  York. 

York.    Now,  York,  or  never,  steel  thy  fearful  thoughts, 
And  change  misdoubt  to  resolution  : 
Be  that  thou  hopest  to  be  ;  or  what  thou  art 
Resign  to  death,  —  it  is  not  worth  th'  enjo}'ing  : 
Let  pale-faced  fear  keep  with  the  mean-born  man, 
.\nd  find  no  harbour  in  a  royal  heart. 

Faster  than  spring-time  showers  comes  thought  on  thought  ; 
And  not  a  thought  but  thinks  on  dignity. 
My  brain,  more  busy  than  the  labouring  spider, 
Weaves  tedious  snares  to  trap  mine  enemies. 
Well,  nobles,  well,  'tis  politicly  done, 
To  send  me  packing  with  an  host  of  men  : 

^  To  take  order  is  to  adopt  measures  or  mate  arrangements. 


190  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  m 

I  fear  me  you  but  warm  the  starved  snake, 

Who,  cherish'd  in  your  breasts,  will  sting  your  hearts. 

'Twas  men  I  lack'd,  and  you  will  give  them  me  : 

I  take  it  kindly ;  yet  be  well  assured 

You  put  sharp  weapons  in  a  madman's  hands. 

Whiles  I  in  Ireland  nourish  a  mighty  band, 

I  will  stir  up  in  England  some  black  storm, 

Shall  blow  ten  thousand  souls  to  Heaven  or  Hell  j 

And  this  fell  tempest  shall  not  cease  to  rage 

Until  the  golden  circuit  on  my  head. 

Like  to  the  glorious  Sun's  transparent  beams, 

Do  calm  the  fury  of  this  mad-bred  flaw.^^ 

And  for  a  minister  of  my  intent 

I  have  seduced  a  headstrong  Kentishman, 

John  Cade  of  Ashford, 

To  make  commotion,  as  full  well  he  can, 

Under  the  title  of  John  Mortimer. 

In  Ireland  have  I  seen  this  stubborn  Cade 

Oppose  himself  against  a  troop  of  kerns, 

And  fought  so  long,  till  that  his  thighs  with  darts 

Were  almost  like  a  sharp-quill'd  porpentine  ; 

And,  in  the  end  being  rescued,  I  have  seen 

Him  caper  upright  like  a  wild  Morisco,^^ 

Shaking  the  bloody  darts  as  he  his  bells. 

Full  often,  like  a  shag-hair'd  crafty  kern, 

Hath  he  conversed  with  the  enemy. 

And,  undiscover'd,  come  to  me  again, 

25  Kfiaw  is  a  violent  gust  of  wind. 

26  A  dancer  in  a  morris-dance,  originally,  perhaps,  meant  to  imitate  a 
Moorish  dance,  and  thence  named.  The  bells  sufficiently  indicate  that  the 
English  Morris-dancer  is  intended.  It  appears  from  Blount's  Glossography, 
and  some  of  our  old  writers,  that  the  dance  itself  was  called  a  morisco. 
Florio,  in  the  first  edition  of  his  Italian  Dictionary,  defines  "  Moresca,  a 
kind  of  morice  or  antique  dance,  after  the  Moorish  or  Ethiopian  fashion." 
See  vol.  iv.  page  46,  note  5. 


KIXG    HENRY    THE    SIXTH. 


191 


And  given  me  notice  of  their  villanies. 
This  devil  here  shall  be  my  substitute ; 
For  that  John  Mortimer,  which  now  is  dead. 
In  face,  in  gait,  in  speech,  he  doth  resemble : 
By  this  I  shall  perceive  the  commons'  mind. 
How  they  effect  the  House  and  claim  of  York- 
Say  he  be  taken,  rack'd  and  tortured, 
I  know  no  pain  they  can  inflict  upon  him 
Will  make  him  say  I  moved  him  to  those  arms. 
Say  that  he  thrive,  —  as  'tis  great  like  he  will,  — 
Why,  then  from  Ireland  come  I  with  my  strength. 
And  reap  the  hardest  which  that  rascal  sow'd ; 
For  Humphrey  being  dead,  as  he  shall  be. 
And  Henry  put  apart,  the  next  for  me. 


lExif. 


Scene  H.  —  Bury  Sf.  Edmund's.     A  Room  of  State. 
Enter  certain  Murderers,  hastily. 

J  Mur.   Run  to  my  Lord  of  Suffolk  ;  let  him  know 
We  have  dispatch'd  the  duke,  as  he  commanded. 

2  Mur.   O,  that  it  were  to  do  !     What  have  we  done? 
Didst  ever  hear  a  man  so  penitent  ? 

I  Mur.   Here  comes  my  lord. 

Enter  Suffolk. 

Suf.    Now,  sirs,  have  you  dispatch'd  this  thing? 

I  Mur.    Ay,  my  good  lord,  he's  dead. 

Suf.    Why,  that's  well  said.     Go,  get  you  to  my  house ; 
I  will  reward  you  for  this  venturous  deed. 
The  King  and  all  the  peers  are  here  at  hand : 
I  Have  you  laid  fair  the  bed  ?  are  all  things  well, 
[According  as  I  gave  directions? 

/  Mur.   Yes,  my  good  lord. 

Suf.   Away  !  be  gone.  {^Exeunt  Murderers. 


IQ2  THE   SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  ill. 

Trumpet  sounded.     Enter  King  Henry,   Queen  Margaret, 
Cardinal  Beaufort,  Somerset,  Lords,  and  others. 

King.   Go,  call  our  uncle  to  our  presence  straight ; 
Say  we  intend  to  try  his  Grace  to-day, 
If  he  be  guilty,  as  'tis  published. 

Suf.   I'll  call  him  presently,  my  noble  lord.  \_Exit. 

King.    Lords,  take  your  places  ;  and,  I  pray  you  all, 
Proceed  no  straiter  'gainst  our  uncle  Gloster 
Than  from  true  evidence  of  good  esteem 
He  be  approved  in  practice  culpable. 

Queen.   God  forbid  any  malice  should  prevail. 
That  faultless  may  condemn  a  nobleman  ! 
Pray  God  he  may  acquit  him  of  suspicion  ! 

King.    I  thank  thee,  Meg  ;  these  words  content  me  much. — 

Re-enter  Suffolk. 

How  now  !  why  look'st  thou  pale?  why  tremblest  thou? 
Where  is  our  uncle?  what's  the  matter,  Suffolk? 

Suf.    Dead  in  his  bed,  my  lord  ;  Gloster  is  dead. 

Queen.    Marry,  God  forfend  ! 

Car.    God's  secret  judgment :  I  did  dream  to-night 
The  duke  was  dumb,  and  could  not  speak  a  word. 

\The  King  swoons. 

Queen.    How  fares  my  lord?  —  Help,  lords  !  the  King  is 
dead. 

Som,   Rear  up  his  body  ;  wring  him  by  the  nose. 

Queen.   Run,  go,  help,  help  !  —  O  Henry,  ope  thine  eyes  ! 

Suf.   He  doth  revive  again  :  madam,  be  patient. 

King.   O  heavenly  God  ! 

Queen.  How  fares  my  gracious  lord  ? 

Suf.   Comfort,  my  sovereign  !  gracious  Henry,  comfort ! 

King.   What,  doth  my  Lord  of  Suffolk  comfort  me  ? 
Came  he  right  now  to  sing  a  raven's  note. 
Whose  dismal  tune  bereft  my  vital  powers ; 


SCENE  II-  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  1 93 

And  thinks  he  that  the  chirping  of  a  wren, 

By  crying  comfort  from  a  hollow  breast, 

Can  chase  away  the  first-conceived  sound? 

Hide  not  thy  poison  with  such  sugar'd  words : 

Lay  not  thy  hands  on  me ;  forbear,  I  say ; 

Their  touch  affrights  me  as  a  serpent's  sting. 

Thou  baleful  messenger,  out  of  my  sight ! 

Upon  thy  eyeballs  murderous  t\  ranny 

Sits  in  grim  majesty,  to  fright  the  world. 

Look  not  upon  me,  for  thine  eyes  are  wounding ;  — 

Yet  do  not  go  away  ;  —  come,  basilisk, 

And  kill  the  innocent  gazer  with  thy  sight :  * 

For  in  the  shade  of  death  I  shall  find  joy ; 

In  life  but  double  death,  now  Gloster's  dead. 

Queen.   Why  do  you  rate  my  Lord  of  Suffolk  thus? 
Although  the  duke  was  enemy  to  him, 
Yet  he,  most  Christian-like,  laments  his  death  : 
And  for  myself,  —  foe  as  he  was  to  me,  — 
Might  liquid  tears,  or  heart-offending  groans. 
Or  blood-consuming  sighs  recall  his  life, 
I  would  be  blind  with  weeping,  sick  with  groans. 
Look  pale  as  primrose  with  blood-drinking  sighs, 
And  all  to  have  the  noble  duke  ali\'e. 
'What  know  I  how  the  world  may  deem  of  me  ? 
For  it  is  known  we  were  but  hollow  friends  : 

1  The  basilisk  is  so  called,  says  Richardson,  "  either  because  it  hath  on 
its  head  something  white  like  a  diadem,  or  because  all  other  kinds  of  ser- 
jjents  flee  from  its  superior  strength."  So  in  Holland's  Pliny :  "  The  like 
propertie  hath  the  serpent  called  a  basiliske  :  a  white  spot  or  starre  it  car- 
rieth  on  the  head,  and  setteth  it  out  like  a  coronet  or  diadem."  The  old 
notion  touching  this  serpent  is  shown  by  Chaucer  in  The  Persones  Tale: 
"  That  sleth  right  as  the  Basiiicok  sleth  folk  by  venime  of  his  sight."  So  in 
Albion's  England  : 

That  did  with  easy  sight  enforce  a  basilisk  to  flie. 
Albeit  naturally  that  beast  doth  raurther  with  the  eye. 


194  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  III. 

It  may  be  judged  I  made  the  duke  away ; 

So  shall  my  name  with  slander's  tongue  be  wounded, 

And  princes'  Courts  be  fill'd  with  my  reproach.  [ 

This  get  I  by  his  death  :  ah  me,  unhappy  !  ] 

To  be  a  queen,  and  crown'd  with  infamy  !  ^ 

King.   Ah,  woe  is  me  for  Gloster,  wretched  man  ! 

Queen.    Be  woe  for  me,^  more  wretched  than  he  is. 
What,  dost  thou  turn  away,  and  hide  thy  face  ? 
I  am  no  loathsome  leper,  —  look  on  me. 
What,  art  thou,  like  the  adder,  waxen  deaf? 
Be  poisonous  too,  and  kill  thy  f6rlorn  Queen. 
Is  all  thy  comfort  shut  in  Gloster's  tomb  ? 
Why,  then.  Dame  Margaret  was  ne'er  thy  joy  : 
Erect  his  statua,  and  worship  it. 

And  make  my  image  but  an  alehouse  sign.  ■ 

Was  I  for  this  nigh  wreck'd  upon  the  sea,  ; 

And  twice  by  awkward  ^  winds  from  England's  bank  ; 

Drove  back  again  unto  my  native  clime  ?  '■ 

What  boded  this  but  well-forewarning  winds 
Did  seem  to  say.  Seek  not  a  scorpion's  nest. 

Nor  set  no  footing  on  this  unkind  shore  ?  ; 

What  did  I  then  but  curse  the  gentle  gusts,^ 

And  he  that  loosed  them  forth  their  brazen  caves ;  : 

And  bid  them  blow  towards  England's  blessed  shore,  ' 

Or  turn  our  stem  upon  a  dreadful  rock  ?  \ 

Yet  ^olus  would  not  be  a  murderer,  \ 

But  left  that  hateful  office  unto  thee  : 

2  That  is,  "  be  sorry,  or  lament,  for  me,  and  not  for  Gloster."  1 

3  The  same  uncommon  epithet  is  apphed  to  the  wind  by  Marlowe  in  his  ] 
Edward  II. :  "  With  awkward  winds,  and  with  sore  tempests  driven."  And  i 
by  Drayton,  Epistle  from  Richard  II.  to  Queen  Isabell:  \ 

And  undertook  to  travaile  dangerous  waies,  i 

Driven  by  awkward  winds  and  boisterous  seas.  | 

*  Margaret  calls  the  gusts  gentle,  because  they  were  dealing  kindly  or  | 

gently  by  her  in  trying  to  keep  her  from  the  English  shore.  ' 


SCENE  II.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  I9S 

The  pretty- vaulting  sea  refused  to  drown  me  ; 

Knowing  that  thou  wouldst  have  me  drown'd  on  shore. 

With  tears  as  salt  as  sea,  through  thy  unkindness  : 

The  splitting  rocks  cower'd  in  the  sinking  sands, 

And  would  not  dash  me  with  their  ragged  sides ; 

Because  thy  flinty  heart,  more  hard  than  they. 

Might  in  thy  palace  perish  ^  Margaret. 

As  far  as  I  could  ken  the  chalky  cliffs, 

^^'hen  from  thy  shore  the  tempest  beat  us  back, 

I  stood  upon  the  hatches  in  the  storm  ; 

And,  when  the  dusky  sky  began  to  rob 

My  earnest-gaping  sight  of  thy  land's  view, 

I  took  a  costly  jewel  from  my  neck,  — 

A  heart  it  was,  bound  in  with  diamonds,  — 

And  threw  it  towards  thy  land  :  the  sea  received  it ; 

And  so  I  wish'd  thy  body  might  my  heart : 

And  even  with  this  I  lost  fair  England's  view, 

And  bid  mine  eyes  be  packing  with  my  heart. 

And  call'd  them  blind  and  dusky  spectacles. 

For  losing  ken  of  Albion's  \vished  coast. 

How  often  have  I  tempted  Suffolk's  tongue  — 

The  agent  of  thy  foul  inconstancy  — 

To  sit  and  witch  me,  as  Ascanius  ^  did 

When  he  to  madding  Dido  would  unfold 

His  father's  acts  commenced  in  burning  Troy  ! 

6  The  yerbferisA  is  here  used  actively.  So  in  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's 
Maid's  Tragedy  :  "  Let  not  my  sins  perrsA  your  noble  youth."  And  in  their 
Honest  Man's  Fortune  :  "  And  miseries  have  perish' d  his  good  face."  Also 
in  Bacon's  Essay  Of  Friendship :  "  That  closeness  did  impair  and  not  a 
little  perish  his  understanding."  —  Because,  in  the  preceding  line,  is  equiva- 
lent to  in  order  that.  So  in  North's  Plutarch,  Life  of  Augustus  :  "  Some 
women,  unfaithful  to  their  husbands,  delivered  them  into  the  hands  of  the 
murtherers,  because  they  might  marry  again."     See  page  54,  note  3. 

6  Of  course  the  allusion  is  to  the  y£Heid,  i.  But  it  was  Cupid  in  the  like- 
ness of  Ascanius  that  played  the  witchcraft  upon  Dido ;  and  it  was  ^Eneas 
himself  that  related  to  her  the  destruction  of  Troy. 


196  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  ill. 

Am  I  not  witch'd  like  her  ?  art  thou  not  false  like  him  ? 
Ah  me,  I  can  no  more  !  die,  Margaret ! 
For  Henry  weeps  that  thou  dost  Uve  so  long. 

Noise  within.     Enter  Warwick  and  Salisbury.     The  Com- 
mons/r^i-y  to  the  door. 

War.    It  is  reported,  mighty  sovereign, 
That  good  Duke  Humphrey  traitorously  is  murder'd 
By  Suffolk  and  the  Cardinal  Beaufort's  means. 
The  commons,  like  an  angry  hive  of  bees 
That  want  their  leader,  scatter  up  and  down, 
And  care  not  who  they  sting  in  his  revenge. 
Myself  have  calm'd  their  spleenful  mutiny, 
Until  they  hear  the  order  of  his  death. 

King.   That  he  is  dead,  good  Warwick,  'tis  too  true  ^ 
But  how  he  died  God  knows,  not  Henry : 
Enter  his  chamber,  view  his  breathless  corpse. 
And  comment  then  upon  his  sudden  death. 

War.   That  shall  I  do,  my  liege.  —  Stay,  Salisbury, 
With  the  rude  multitude  till  I  return. 

[Warwick  goes  into  an  inner  chamber.  —  Salis- 
bury retires  to  the  Commons  at  the  door. 

King.    O  Thou  that  judgest  all  things,  stay  my  thoughts,  — 
My  thoughts,  that  labour  to  persuade  my  soul 
Some  violent  hands  were  laid  on  Humphrey's  life  ! 
If  my  suspect  be  false,  forgive  me,  God ; 
For  judgment  only  doth  belong  to  Thee. 
Fain  would  I  go  to  chafe  his  paly  lips 
With  twenty  thousand  kisses,  and  to  rain 
Upon  his  face  an  ocean  of  salt  tears. 
To  tell  my  love  unto  his  dumb  deaf  trunk. 
And  with  my  fingers  feel  his  hand  unfeeling : 
But  all  in  vain  are  these  mean  obsequies ; 
And  to  survey  his  dead  and  earthy  image, 


SCENE  II.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  1 9/ 

What  were  it  but  to  make  my  sorrow  greater? 

\^The  folding-doors  of  an  inner  chamber  are 
thrown  open,  and  Gloster  is  discovered 
dead  in  his  bed ;  Warwick  and  others 
standing  by  it. 

War.   Come  hither,  gracious  sovereign,  view  this  body. 

King.   That  is  to  see  how  deep  my  grave  is  made  ; 
For  with  his  soul  fled  all  my  worldly  solace, 
And,  seeing  him,  I  see  my  life  in  death." 

War.   As  surely  as  my  soul  intends  to  live 
With  that  dread  King  that  took  our  state  upon  Him 
To  free  us  from  His  Father's  wrathful  curse, 
I  do  beUeve  that  violent  hands  were  laid 
Upon  the  life  of  this  thrice-famed  duke. 

Suf.    A  dreadful  oath,  sworn  with  a  solemn  tongue  ! 
A\Tiat  instance  gives  Lord  Warwick  for  his  vow? 

War.   See  how  the  blood  is  settled  in  his  face  ! 
Oft  have  I  seen  a  timely-parted  ghost,^ 
Of  ashy  semblance,  meagre,  pale,  and  bloodless, 
Being  all  descended^  to  the  labouring  heart ; 
WTio,  in  the  conflict  that  it  holds  >vith  death. 
Attracts  the  same  for  aidance  'gainst  the  enemy ; 
\Miich  with  the  heart  there  cools,  and  ne'er  retumeth 
To  blush  and  beautify  the  cheek  again. 

■J  The  meaning  probably  is,  "  I  see  myself,  my  own  life,  exp>osed  to  death." 
So  in  the  Church  Burial  Service :  "  In  the  midst  of  life  we  are  in  death." 

8  That  is,  a  body  from  which  the  soul  bad  lately  parted.  Ghost  was  often 
used  thus  for  corpse  by  the  old  writers.  In  a  subsequent  passage  of  the 
original  play  the  word  gkost  is  again  used  as  in  the  present  instance.  Young 
Clifford,  addressing  himself  to  his  father's  dead  body,  says, 

A  dismal  sight!  see  where  be  breathless  lies. 
An  smear'd  and  welter'd  in  his  lu!<ewann  blood! 
Sweet  £ather,  to  thy  nturder'd ghost  I  swear. 

^  Here  blood,  as  comprised  in  bloodless,  is  evidently  the  subject  of  Being 
descended. 


198  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  III 

But  see,  his  face  is  black  and  full  of  blood ; 

His  eyeballs  farther  out  than  when  he  lived, 

Staring  full  ghastly  like  a  strangled  man  ; 

His  hair  uprear'd,  his  nostrils  stretch'd  with  struggling ; 

His  hands  abroad  display'd,  as  one  that  grasp'd 

And  tugg'd  for  life,  and  was  by  strength  subdued  : 

Look,  on  the  sheets  his  hair,  you  see,  is  sticking ; 

His  well-proportion'd  beard  made  rough  and  rugged, 

Like  to  the  summer's  corn  by  tempest  lodged. 

It  cannot  be  but  he  was  murder'd  here  ; 

The  least  of  all  these  signs  were  probable. 

Suf.   Why,  Warwick,  who  should  do  the  duke  to  death? 
Myself  and  Beaufort  had  him  in  protection  ; 
And  we,  I  hope,  sir,  are  no  murderers. 

War.    But  both  of  you  were  vow'd  Duke  Humphrey's  foes  ; 
And  you,  forsooth,  had  the  good  duke  to  keep  : 
'Tis  like  you  would  not  feast  him  like  a  friend  ; 
And  'tis  well  seen  he  found  an  enemy. 

Queen.   Then  you,  belike,  suspect  these  noblemen 
As  guilty  of  Duke  Humphrey's  timeless  death. 

War.    Who  finds  the  heifer  dead  and  bleeding  fresh. 
And  sees  fast  by  a  butcher  with  an  axe. 
But  will  suspect  'twas  he  that  made  the  slaughter  ? 
Who  finds  the  partridge  in  the  puttock's  nest. 
But  may  imagine  how  the  bird  was  dead. 
Although  the  kite  soar  with  unbloodied  beak? 
Even  so  suspicious  is  this  tragedy. 

Queen.   Are  you  the  butcher,  Suffolk?  where's  your  knife? 
Is  Beaufort  term'd  a  kite  ?  where  are  his  talons  ? 

Suf.    I  wear  no  knife  to  slaughter  sleeping  men  ; 
But  here's  a  vengeful  sword,  rusted  with  ease, 
That  shall  be  scoured  in  his  rancorous  heart 
That  slanders  me  with  murder's  crimson  badge  :  — 
Say,  if  thou  darest,  proud  Lord  of  Warwickshire, 


SCENE  II.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  I99 

That  I  am  faulty  in  Duke  Humphrey's  death. 

\_Exeunt  Cardinal,  Somerset,  and  others. 

War.   Wliat  dares  not  Warwick,  if  false  Suffolk  dare  him  ? 

Queen.    He  dares  not  calm  his  contumelious  spirit, 
Nor  cease  to  be  an  arrogant  controller,  i" 
Though  Suffolk  dare  him  twenty  thousand  times. 

War.    Madam,  be  stiU,  —  with  reverence  may  I  say ; 
For  every  word  you  speak  in  his  behalf 
Is  slander  to  your  royal  dignity. 

Suf.   Blunt-witted  lord,  ignoble  in  demeanour ! 
If  ever  lady  wrong'd  her  lord  so  much. 
Thy  mother  took  into  her  blameful  bed 
Some  stem  untutor'd  churl,  and  noble  stock 
Was  graft  with  crab-tree,  slip  ;  whose  fruit  thou  art. 
And  never  of  the  Nevilles'  noble  race. 

War.    But  that  the  guilt  of  murder  bucklers '  •  thee. 
And  I  should  rob  the  deathsman  of  his  fee, 
Quitting  ^^  thee  thereby  of  ten  thousand  shames. 
And  that  my  sovereign's  presence  makes  me  mild, 
I  would,  false  murderous  coward,  on  thy  knee 
Make  thee  beg  pardon  for  thy  passed  speech, 
And  say  it  was  thy  mother  that  thou  meant'st,  — 
That  thou  thyself  wast  born  in  bastardy ; 
And,  after  all  this  fearful  homage  done. 
Give  thee  thy  hire,  and  send  thy  soul  to  Hell, 
Pernicious  blood-sucker  of  sleeping  men  ! 

Suf.   Thou  shalt  be  waking  while  I  shed  thy  blood, 
If  from  this  presence  thou  darest  go  with  me. 


!•  To  rebuke,  to  censure,  to  chastise  are  among  the  old  meanings  of  to 
control.     Hooker  has  it  repeatedly  so. 

11  To  buckler  is  to  defend,  to  shield.     So  in  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew, 
iii.  2 :  "  They  shall  not  touch  thee,  Kate :  I'll  buckler  thee  against  a  million." 

12  Quitting  here  means  releasing  or  setting  free.     So  in  King  Henry 
VIII.,  V.  I :  "  God  safely  ^it  her  of  her  burden,  and  with  gentle  travail ! " 


200  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  III. 

War.   Away  even  now,  or  I  will  drag  thee  hence  : 
Unworthy  though  thou  art,  I'll  cope  with  thee, 
And  do  some  service  to  Duke  Humphrey's  ghost. 

\_Exeunt  Suffolk  and  Warwick. 

King.    What  stronger  breastplate  than  a  heart  untainted  ! 
Thrice  is  he  arm'd  that  hath  his  quarrel  just ; 
And  he  but  naked,  though  lock'd  up  in  steel. 
Whose  conscience  with  injustice  is  corrupted.  \_A  noise  within. 

Queen.   What  noise  is  this? 

Re-enter  Suffolk  and  Warwick,  with  their  weapons  drawn. 

King.    Why,    how   now,    lords  !    your   wrathful    weapons 
drawn 
Here  in  our  presence  !  dare  you  be  so  bold  ? 
Why,  what  tumultuous  clamour  have  we  here  ? 

Suf.   The  traitorous  Warwick,  with  the  men  of  Bury, 
Set  all  upon  me,  mighty  sovereign. 

Sal.  \To  the  Commons  at  the  door."]    Sirs,  stand  apart; 
the  King  shall  know  your  mind. — \^He  comes  forward. 
Dread  lord,  the  commons  send  you  word  by  me, 
Unless  false  Suffolk  straight  be  done  to  death 
Or  banished  fair  England's  territories, 
They  will  by  violence  tear  him  from  your  palace, 
And  torture  him  with  grievous  lingering  death. 
They  say,  by  him  the  good  Duke  Humphrey  died ; 
They  say,  in  him  they  fear  your  Highness'  death ; 
And  mere  instinct  of  love  and  loyalty  — 
Free  from  a  stubborn  opposite  intent, 
As  being  thought  to  contradict  your  liking  — 
Makes  them  thus  forward  in  his  banishment. 
They  say,  in  care  of  your  most  royal  person. 
That  if  your  Highness  should  intend  to  sleep, 
And  charge  that  no  man  should  disturb  your  rest, 
In  pain  of  your  dislike,  or  pain  of  death ; 


SCENE  II.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  20I 

Yet,  notwithstanding  such  a  strait  edict, 

Were  there  a  serpent  seen,  with  forked  tongue. 

That  slily  glided  towards  your  Majesty, 

It  were  but  necessary  you  were  waked ; 

Lest,  being  suffer'd  in  that  harmful  slumber. 

The  mortal  worm  ^^  might  make  the  sleep  eternal : 

And  therefore  do  they  cry,  though  you  forbid. 

That  they  will  guard  you,  wher  you  will  or  no. 

From  such  fell  serpents  as  false  Suffolk  is ; 

With  whose  envenomed  and  fatal  sting, 

Your  loving  uncle,  twenty  times  his  worth, 

They  say,  is  shamefully  bereft  of  life. 

Commons.    [  Within^     An   answer   from   the    King,  my 
Lord  of  Salisbury ! 

Suf.    'Tis  like,  the  commons,  rude  unpolish'd  hinds, 
Could  send  such  message  to  their  sovereign  : 
But  you,  my  lord,  were  glad  to  be  employ'd. 
To  show  how  quaint  ^^  an  orator  you  are  : 
But  all  the  honour  Salisbury  hath  won 
Is,  that  he  was  the  lord  ambassador 
Sent  from  a  sort  '^  of  tinkers  to  the  King. 

Commons.    [  Within^    An  answer  from  the  King,  or  we 
will  all  break  in  ! 

King.    Go,  Salisbury,  and  tell  them  all  from  me, 
I  thank  them  for  their  tender  loving  care ; 
And  had  I  not  been  cited  so  by  them. 
Yet  did  I  purpose  as  they  do  entreat ; 
For,  sure,  my  thoughts  do  hourly  prophesy 
Mischance  unto  my  state  by  Suffolk's  means : 

13  Worm  for  snakt  or  serpent.     Repeatedly  so.  —  Mortal  is  deadly. 

1*  The  original  meaning  of  quaint,  from  cointe,  French,  and  comptus, 
Latin,  is  curiously  or  artfully  decked  or  trimmed.  Here,  accordingly,  it 
bears  the  sense  of  cunning,  dexterous. 

16  Sort,  again,  Iot  pcu:k  or  company.    See  page  165,  note  9. 


202  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  ill. 

And  therefore  —  by  His  majesty  I  swear, 

Whose  far  unworthy  deputy  I  am  — 

He  shall  not  breathe  infection  in  '^  this  air 

But  three  days  longer,  on  the  pain  of  death.  [^Exit  Salisbury. 

Queen.    O  Henry,  let  me  plead  for  gentle  Suffolk  ! 

King.   Ungentle  Queen,  to  call  him  gentle  Suffolk  ! 
No  more,  I  say  :  if  thou  dost  plead  for  him, 
Thou  wilt  but  add  increase  unto  my  wrath. 
Had  I  but  said,  I  would  have  kept  my  word ; 
But  when  I  swear,  it  is  irrevocable.  — 
If  after  three  days'  space  thou  here  be'st  found 
On  any  ground  that  I  am  ruler  of, 
The  world  shall  not  be  ransom  for  thy  life.  — 
Come,  Warwick,  come,  good  Warwick,  go  with  me  ; 
I  have  great  matters  to  impart  to  thee. 

\_Exeunt  all  but  Queen  Margaret  and  Suffolk. 

Queen.    Mischance  and  sorrow  go  along  with  you  ! 
Heart's  discontent  and  sour  affliction 
Be  playfellows  to  keep  you  company  ! 
There's  two  of  you  ;  the  Devil  make  a  third  ! 
And  threefold  vengeance  tend  upon  your  steps  ! 

Suf.   Cease,  gentle  Queen,  these  execrations, 
And  let  thy  Suffolk  take  his  heavy  leave. 

Queen.    Fie,  coward  woman,  and  soft-hearted  wretch  ! 
Hast  thou  not  spirit  to  curse  thine  enemies  ? 

Suf.  A  plague  upon  them  !  wherefore  should  I  curse  them  ? 
Would  curses  kill,  as  doth  the  mandrake's  groan,'''' 

16  In  for  into  ;  the  two  being  often  used  indiscriminately. 

1'^  The  old  superstition  touching  the  mandrake  is  exposed  by  Sir  Thomas 
Browne  in  his  Vulgar  and  Common  Errors,  ii.  6  :  "  The  third  affirmeth  the 
roots  of  mandrakes  do  make  a  noise,  or  give  a  shriek,  upon  eradication; 
which  is  indeed  ridiculous,  and  false  below  confute ;  arising,  perhaps,  from 
a  small  and  stridulous  noise,  which,  being  firmly  rooted,  it  maketh  upon 
divulsion  of  parts.  The  last  concerneth  the  danger  ensuing ;  that  there 
follows  an  hazard  of  life  to  them  that  pull  it  up;  that  some  evil  fate  pursues 
them,  and  they  live  not  long  after." 


SCENE  ir.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  203 

I  would  invent  as  bitter-searching  terms, 

As  curst,  as  harsh,  and  horrible  to  hear, 

Deliver'd  strongly  through  my  fixed  teeth. 

With  full  as  many  signs  of  deadly  hate, 

As  lean-faced  Envy  in  her  loathsome  cave  : 

My  tongue  should  stumble  in  mine  earnest  words ; 

Mine  eyes  should  sparkle  like  the  beaten  flint ; 

Mine  hair  be  fix'd  on  end,  as  one  distract ; 

Ay,  every  joint  should  seem  to  curse  and  ban  : 

And  even  now  my  burden'd  heart  would  break. 

Should  I  not  curse  them.     Poison  be  their  drink  ! 

Gall,  worse  than  gall,  the  daintiest  thing  they  taste  ! 

Their  sweetest  shade  a  grove  of  cypress-trees  !  ^** 

Their  chiefest  prospect  murdering  basilisks  ! 

Their  softest  touch  as  smart  as  lizards'  stings  !  ^^ 

Their  music  frightful  as  the  serpent's  hiss, 

And  boding  screech-owls  make  the  consort  full ! 

All  the  foul  terrors  in  dark-seated  Hell  — 

Queen.    Enough,  sweet  Suffolk;  thou  torment'st  thyself; 
And  these  dread  curses  —  like  the  sun  'gainst  glass. 
Or  like  an  overcharged  gun  —  recoil. 
And  turn  the  force  of  them  upon  thyself. 

Siif.   You  bade  me  ban,  and  will  you  bid  me  leave  ?^ 
Now,  by  the  ground  that  I  am  banish'd  fi-om. 
Well  could  I  curse  away  a  Winter's  night. 
Though  standing  naked  on  a  mountain-top, 

18  Cypress  was  used  in  funeral  rites  by  the  Romans,  and  hence  is  com- 
monly spoke  of  as  an  ill-boding  plant. 

19  This  is  one  of  the  vulgar  errors  in  the  old  natural  history.  The  lizard 
has  in  fact  no  sting,  and  is  quite  harmless. 

20  Leave  for  cease  or  leave  off.  —  This  inconsistency  is  common  in  real 
life.  Those  who  are  stung  to  impatience  are  vexed  to  see  others  less  dis- 
turbed than  themselves ;  but,  when  others  begin  to  rave,  they  immediately 
see  in  them  what  they  could  not  find  in  themselves,  the  deformity  and  folly 
of  useless  ras'e. 


204  THE    SFXOND    PART    OF  act  III. 

Where  biting  cold  would  never  let  grass  grow, 
And  think  it  but  a  minute  spent  in  sport. 

Queen.    O, 
Let  nie  entreat  thee,  cease  !     Give  me  thy  hand, 
That  I  may  dew  it  with  my  mournful  tears ; 
Nor  let  the  rain  of  heaven  wet  this  place, 
To  wash  away  my  woeful  monuments. 

O,  could  this  kiss  be  printed  in  thy  hand,    \_Kisses  his  hand. 
That  thou  mightst  think  upon  these  by  the  seal, 
Through  whom  a  thousand  sighs  are  breathed  for  thee  !  ^^ 
So,  get  thee  gone,  that  I  may  know  my  grief; 
'Tis  but  surmised  whiles  thou  art  standing  by. 
As  one  that  surfeits  thinking  on  a  want. 
I  will  repeal  thee,  or,  be  well  assured. 
Adventure  to  be  banished  myself : 
And  banished  I  am,  if  but  from  thee. 
Go  ;  speak  not  to  me  ;  even  now  be  gone.  — 
O,  go  not  yet  !     Even  thus  two  friends  condemn'd 
Embrace,  and  kiss,  and  take  ten  thousand  leaves, 
Lother  a  hundred  times  to  part  than  die. 
Yet  now  farewell ;  and  farewell  life  with  thee  ! 

Suf.   Thus  is  poor  Suffolk  ten  times  banished. 
Once  by  the  King,  and  three  times  thrice  by  thee. 
'Tis  not  the  land  I  care  for,  wert  thou  hence ; 
A  wilderness  is  populous  enough. 
So  Suffolk  had  thy  heavenly  company : 
For,  where  thou  art,  there  is  the  world  itself, 
With  every  several  pleasure  in  the  world ; 
And,  where  thou  art  not,  desolation. 
I  can  no  more  :  live  thou  to  joy  thy  life  ; 
Myself  to  joy  in  nought  but  that  thou  livest. 

21  "  That,  by  the  impression  of  my  kiss  for  ever  remaining  on  thy  hand, 
thou  mightest  think  on  those  lips  through  which  a  thousand  sighs  will  be 
breathed  for  thee." 


KING   HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  205 


Enter  Vaux. 


Queen.   Whither  goes  Vaux  so  fast  ?  what  news,  I  pr'ythee  ? 

Vaux.   To  signify  unto  his  Majesty 
That  Cardinal  Beaufort  is  at  point  of  death  ; 
For  suddenly  a  grievous  sickness  took  him, 
That  makes  him  gasp,  and  stare,  and  catch  the  air, 
Blaspheming  God,  and  cursing  men  on  Earth. 
Sometime  he  talks  as  if  Duke  Humphrey's  ghost 
Were  by  his  side  ;  sometime  he  calls  the  King, 
And  whispers  to  his  pillow,  as  to  him, 
The  secrets  of  his  overcharged  soul : 
And  I  am  sent  to  tell  his  Majesty 
That  even  now  he  cries  aloud  for  him. 

Queen.    Go  tell  this  heav}'  message  to  the  King.  — 

\_Exit  Vaux. 
Ah  me  !  what  is  this  world  !  what  news  are  these  ! 
But  wherefore  grieve  I  at  an  hour's  poor  loss,^ 
Omitting  Suffolk's  exile,  my  soul's  treasure  ? 
Why  only,  Suffolk,  mourn  I  not  for  thee, 
And  with  the  sourthem  clouds  contend  in  tears,  — 
Theirs  for  the  earth's  increase,  mine  for  my  sorrows  ? 
Now  get  thee  hence  :  the  King,  thou  know'st,  is  coming ; 
If  thou  be  found  by  me,  thou  art  but  dead. 

Suf.    If  I  depart  from  thee,  I  cannot  live  ; 
And  in  thy  sight  to  die,  wliat  were  it  else 
But  like  a  pleasant  slumber  in  thy  lap  ? 
Here  could  I  breathe  my  soul  into  the  air. 
As  mild  and  gentle  as  the  cradle-babe 
Dying  with  mother's  dug  between  its  lips  : 
Where,23  from  thy  sight,  I  should  be  raging  mad, 

22  "  ^^'hy  do  I  grieve  for  a  loss  that  will  quickly  be  forgotten,  and  not 
rather  spend  all  my  grief  upon  the  loss  of  Suffolk,  which  will  never  cease  to 
weigh  upon  me  ?  " 

23  Where  is  here  equivalent  to  -whereas.     A  frequent  usage. 


20G  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  III. 

And  cry  out  for  thee  to  close  up  mine  eyes, 
To  have  thee  with  thy  Hps  to  stop  my  mouth ; 
So  shouldst  thou  either  turn  my  flying  soul, 
Or  I  should  breathe  it  so  into  thy  body. 
And  then  it  lived  in  sweet  Elysium. 
To  die  by  thee  were  but  to  die  in  jest  ; 
From  thee  to  die  were  torture  more  than  death  : 
O,  let  me  stay,  befall  what  may  befall ! 

Queen.    Away  ! 
Though  parting  be  a  fretful  c6rrosive, 
It  is  applied  to  a  deathful  wound. 
To  France,  sweet  Suffolk  :  let  me  hear  from  thee ; 
For,  wheresoe'er  thou  art  in  this  world's  globe, 
I'll  have  an  Iris^^  tliat  shall  find  thee  out. 

Suf.   I  go. 

Queen.         And  take  my  heart  along  with  thee. 

Suf.    A  jewel,  lock'd  into  the  woefull'st  casket 
That  ever  did  contain  a  thing  of  worth. 
Even  as  a  splitted  bark,  so  sunder  we  : 
This  way  fall  I  to  death. 

Queen.  This  way  for  me. 

\_Exeunt  severally. 

Scene  III.  —  London.     Cardinal  Beaufort's  Bedchamber. 

Enter  King  Henry,  Salisbury,  Warwick,  and  others.     The 
Cardinal  in  bed ;  Attendants  with  him.^ 

King.    How  fares  my  lord  ?  speak,  Beaufort,  to  thy  sover- 
eign. 

Car.    If  thou  be'st  Death,  I'll  give  thee  England's  treasure, 
Enough  to  purchase  such  another  island, 
So  thou  wilt  let  me  live,  and  feel  no  pain. 

34  Iris  was  the  messenger  of  Juno, 


SCENE  III.  KING    HENRY   THE    SIXTH.  20/ 

King.   Ah,  what  a  sign  it  is  of  evil  life. 
Where  death's  approach  is  seen  so  terrible  ! 

War.    Beaufort,  it  is  thy  sovereign  speaks  to  thee. 

Car.    Bring  me  unto  my  trial  when  you  will. 
Died  he  not  in  his  bed  ?  where  should  he  die  ? 
Can  I  make  men  live,  wher  they  will  or  no  ? 
0,  torture  me  no  more  !  I  will  confess. 
Alive  again  ?  then  show  me  where  he  is : 
I'll  give  a  thousand  pound  to  look  upon  him. 
He  hath  no  eyes,  the  dust  hath  blinded  them. 
Comb  down  his  hair ;  look,  look  !  it  stands  upright. 
Like  lime-twigs  set  to  catch  my  winged  soul  !  — 
Give  me  some  drink ;  and  bid  th'  apothecary 
Bring  the  strong  poison  that  I  bought  of  him. 

King.    O  thou  eternal  Mover  of  the  heavens, 
Look  with  a  gentle  eye  upon  this  wretch  ! 
O,  beat  away  the  busy- meddling  fiend 
That  lays  strong  siege  unto  this  wretch's  soul. 
And  from  his  bosom  purge  this  black  despair  ! 

War.   See  how  the  pangs  of  death  do  make  him  grin  ! 

Sal.    Disturb  him  not,  let  him  pass  peaceably. 

King.    Peace  to  his  soul,  if  t  God's  good  pleasure  be  !  — 
Lord  Cardinal,  if  thou  think'st  on  Heaven's  bliss. 
Hold  up  thy  hand,  make  signal  of  thy  hope.  — 
He  dies,  and  makes  no  sign  :  —  O  God,  forgive  him  ! 

War.   So  bad  a  death  argues  a  monstrous  life. 

King.    Forbear  to  judge,  for  we  are  sinners  all. 
Close  up  his  eyes,  and  draw  the  curtain  close ; 
And  let  us  all  to  meditation.  \^Exfunt, 


208  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  act  IV. 

ACT  IV. 

Scene  I.  —  Kent.     The  Seashore  near  Dover. 

lairing  heard  at  sea.  Then  enter,  from  a  boat,  a  Captain,  a 
Master,  a  Master's-Mate,  Walter  VVhitmore,  and  others  ; 
with  them  Suffolk  disguised,  and  other  Gentlemen,  Pris- 
oners. 

Cap.   The  gaudy,  blabbing,  and  remorseful  ^  day 
Is  crept  into  the  bosom  of  the  sea  ; 
And  now  loud-howling  wolves  arouse  the  jades 
That  drag  the  tragic  melancholy  night ;  ^ 
Who,  with  their  drowsy,  slow,  and  flagging  wings. 
Clip  ^  dead  men's  graves,  and  from  their  misty  jaws 
Breathe  foul  contagious  darkness  in  the  air. 
Therefore  bring  forth  the  soldiers  of  our  prize  ; 
For,  whilst  our  pinnace  ^  anchors  in  the  Downs, 
Here  shall  they  make  their  ransom  on  the  sand, 
Or  with  their  blood  stain  this  discolour'd  shore.  — 
Master,  this  prisoner  freely  give  I  thee  ;  — 
And  thou  that  art  his  mate,  make  boot  of  this ;  — 
The  other,  \_Fointing  to  Suffolk.]   Walter  Whitmore,  is  thy 
share. 

I  Gent.    What  is  my  ransom,  master?  let  me  know. 

1  Remorseful  \s  pitiful.  —  "  The  epithet  blabbing,  applied  to  the  day  by  a 
man  about  to  commit  murder,  is  exquisitely  beautiful.  Guilt,  if  afraid  of 
light,  considers  darkness  as  a  natural  shelter,  and  makes  night  the  confidant 
of  those  actions  which  cannot  be  trusted  to  the  tell-tale  day." — JOHNSON. 

2  The  chariot  of  the  night  was  supposed  to  be  drawn  by  dragons.  See 
vol.  iii.  page  6i,  note  36. 

8  To  clip  is  to  embrace.    See  vol.  vii,  page  81,  note  16. 
*  Pinnace  formerly  meant  a  ship  of  small  burden,  built  for  speed.    See 
vol.  vi.  page  23,  note  14. 


SCENE  I.  KING   HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  2O9 

Mast.  A  thousand  crowns,  or  else  lay  down  yovir  head. 

Mate.   And  so  much  shall  you  give,  or  off  goes  yours. 

Cap.   What,  think  you  much  to  pay  two  thousand  crowns, 
And  bear  the  name  and  port  of  gentlemen  ?  — 
Cut  both  the  villains'  throats  ;  —  for  die  you  shall :  — 
The  lives  of  those  which  we  have  lost  in  fight 
Cannot  be  counterpoised  with  such  a  petty  sum. 

1  Gent.  I'll  give  it,  sir ;  and  therefore  spare  my  life. 

2  Gent.   And  so  will  I,  and  write  home  for  it  straight. 
Whit.    I  lost  mine  eye  in  laying  the  prize  aboard,  — 

\To  SuF.]  And  therefore,  to  revenge  it,  shalt  thou  die ; 
And  so  should  these,  if  I  might  have  my  will. 

Cap.   Be  not  so  rash  ;  take  ransom,  let  him  live. 

Suf.    Look  on  my  George,  —  I  am  a  gentleman  : 
Rate  me  at  what  thou  wilt,  thou  shalt  be  paid. 

Whit.   And  so  am  I ;  my  name  is  Walter  Whitmore. 
How  now  !  why  start'st  thou  ?  what,  doth  death  affright  ? 

Suf.   Thy  name  affrights  me,  in  whose  sound  is  death. 
A  cunning  man  did  calculate  my  birth, 
And  told  me  that  by  water  I  should  die  :  ^ 
Yet  let  not  this  make  thee  be  bloody-minded ; 
Thy  name  is  Gualtier,  being  rightly  sounded. 

Whit.    Gualtier  or  Walter,  which  it  is,  I  care  not : 
Ne'er  yet  did  base  dishonour  blur  our  name. 
But  with  our  sword  we  wiped  away  the  blot ; 
Therefore,  when  merchant-like  I  sell  revenge. 
Broke  be  my  sword,  my  arms  torn  and  defaced. 
And  I  proclaim 'd  a  coward  through  the  world  ! 

\^Lays  hold  on  Suffolk. 

Suf.   Stay,  Whitmore  ;  for  thy  prisoner  is  a  prince, 
The  Duke  of  Suffolk,  William  de  la  Pole. 

Whit.   The  Duke  of  Suffolk  muffled  up  in  rags  ! 

5  Referring  to  the  answer  of  the  Spirit  in  i.  4 :  "By  water  shall  he  die; 
and  take  his  end." 


2IO  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  IV. 

Suf.   Ay,  but  these  rags  are  no  part  of  the  duke  : 
Jove  sometime  went  disguised,  and  why  not  I  ? 

Cap.    But  Jove  was  never  slain,  as  thou  shalt  be. 

Suf.    Obscure  and  lowly  swain,  King  Henry's  blood, 
The  honourable  blood  of  Lancaster, 
Must  not  be  shed  by  such  a  jaded  ^  groom. 
Hast  thou  not  kiss'd  thy  hand,  and  held  my  stirrup? 
Bare-headed  plodded  by  my  foot-cloth  mule. 
And  thought  thee  happy  when  I  shook  my  head  ? 
How  often  hast  thou  waited  at  my  cup, 
Fed  from  my  trencher,  kneel'd  down  at  the  board, 
When  I  have  feasted  with  Queen  Margaret? 
Remember  it,  and  let  it  make  thee  crest-fall'n, 
Ay,  and  allay  this  thy  abortive  pride  :  '^ 
How  in  our  voiding-lobby  ^  hast  thou  stood, 
And  duly  waited  for  my  coming  forth  ? 
This  hand  of  mine  hath  writ  in  thy  behalf, 
And  therefore  shall  it  charm  thy  riotous  tongue .^ 

Whit.    Speak,  captain,  shall  I  stab  the  forl6rn  swain  ? 

Cap.    First  let  my  words  stab  him,  as  he  hath  me. 

Suf.    Base  slave,  thy  words  are  blunt,  and  so  art  thou. 

Cap.    Convey  him  hence,  and  on  our  long-boat's  side 
Strike  off  his  head. 

Suf.  Thou  darest  not,  for  thy  own. 

c  To  be  jaded  is  to  be  subjected  to  mean  and  harrassing  labours. — 
Suffolk  was,  on  his  mother's  side,  a  remote  cousin  of  Henry  the  Sixth ;  but 
that  relationship  was  from  Joan,  a  daughter  of  Edward  the  First :  so  that 
he  was  nowise  of  the  Lancastrian  branch. 

■^  "Abortive  pride  "  seems  to  be  pride  without  reason,  or  having  nothing 
to  stand  upon,  and  so  coming  to  nothing. 

8  A  voiding-lobby  is  probably  an  entrance-hall,  or  passage  through  which 
the  apartments  of  a  house  are  voided,  that  is,  cleared  or  vacated  of  their 
occupants. 

9  "  Charm  thy  riotous  tongue  "  is  "  silence  thy  insolent  talk."  So  charm  is 
used  in  Othello,  v.  2:  lago  says  to  Emilia,  "  Go  to,  charm  your  tongue"; 
and  she  replies,  "  I  will  not  charm  my  tongue ;  I'm  bound  to  speak." 


SCENE  I.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  211 

Cap.   Yes,  Pole. 

Suf.   Pole! 

Cap.    Pole  !  Sir  Pole  !  lord  ' 
Ay,  kennel,  puddle,  sink ;  i"  whose  filth  and  dirt 
Troubles  the  silver  spring  where  England  drinks. 
Now  will  I  dam  up  this  thy  yawning  mouth 
For  swallowing  the  treasure  of  the  realm  : 
Thy  lips,  that  kiss'd  the  Queen,  shall  sweep  the  ground ; 
.\nd  thou,  that  smiledst  at  good  Duke  Humphrey's  death. 
Against  the  senseless  i^  winds  shalt  grin  in  vain, 
WTio,  in  contempt,  shall  hiss  at  thee  again : 
And  wedded  be  thou  to  the  hags  of  Hell, 
For  daring  to  affy  ^■-  a  mighty  lord 
Unto  the  daughter  of  a  worthless  king, 
Having  neither  subject,  wealth,  nor  diadem. 
By  devilish  policy  art  thou  grown  great. 
And,  like  ambitious  SuUa,  overgorged 
With  gobbets  of  thy  mother's  bleeding  heart. 
By  thee  Anjou  and  Maine  were  sold  to  France ; 
The  false  revolting  Nonnans  thorough  '^  thee 
Disdain  to  call  us  lord ;  and  Picardy 
Hath  slain  their  governors,  surprised  our  forts, 
And  sent  the  ragged  soldiers  wounded  home. 
The  princely  Warwick,  and  the  Nevilles  all,  — 
A\Tiose  dreadful  swords  were  never  drawn  in  vain,  — 

1'  The  Captain  is  playing  contemptuously  on  Suffolk's  name,  which  was 
pronounced  as  if  spelt  fool.  —  Kennel,  here,  is  channel,  ditch,  gutter  ;  any 
narrow  trench  in  which  water  runs  or  stands.  So  in  The  Taming,  iv.  4 : 
**  Go,  hop  me  over  every  kennel  home,  for  you  shall  hop  without  my  ctis- 
tom,  sir."  And  so  Scott,  in  Peveril  of  the  Peak,  chap,  xliii. :  "  Had  I  known 
it  was  thy  house,  man,  I  yrould  sooner  had  my  heart's  blood  run  down  the 
kennel,  than  my  foot  should  have  crossed  your  threshold." 

11  Senseless  here  means  insensible,  unfeeling,  or  unregctrding. 

12  To  affy  is  to  betroth.    See  vol.  iu  page  223,  note  6. 

1*  Thorough  and  through  are  but  diflferent  forms  of  the  same  word,  and 
Shakespeare  uses  them  interchangeably. 


212  THE    SECOND    PART    OF 

As  hating  thee,  are  rising  up  in  arms  : 

And  now  the  House  of  York  —  thrust  from  the  crown 

By  shameful  murder  of  a  guiltless  king 

And  lofty  proud-encroaching  tyranny  — 

Burns  with  revenging  fire  ;  whose  hopeful  colours 

Advance  our  half-faced  Sun,^^  striving  to  shine, 

Under  the  which  is  writ  Invitis  niibibus. 

The  commons  here  in  Kent  are  up  in  arms  : 

And,  to  conclude,  reproach  and  beggary 

Are  crept  into  the  palace  of  our  King, 

And  all  by  thee.  —  Away  !  convey  him  hence. 

Suf.   O,  that  I  were  a  god,  to  shoot  forth  thunder 
Upon  these  paltry,  servile,  abject  drudges  ! 
Small  things  make  base  men  proud :  this  villain  here. 
Being  captain  of  a  pinnace,  threatens  more 
Than  Bargulus,'^  the  strong  lUyrian  pirate. 
Drones  suck  not  eagles'  blood,  but  rob  bee-hives  : 
It  is  impossible  that  I  should  die 
By  such  a  lowly  vassal  as  thyself. 
Thy  words  move  rage  and  not  remorse  in  me  : 
I  go  of  message  from  the  Queen  to  France ; 
I  charge  thee  waft  me  safely  cross  the  Channel. 

Cap.   Walter,— 

Whit.    Come,  Suffolk,  I  must  waft  thee  to  thy  death. 


1*  Half-faced  Sun  refers  to  the  cognizance  of  Edward  the  Third,  which 
was  a  picture  of  the  Sun  struggling  through  a  cloud.  So  in  Camden's  Re- 
maines :  "  Edward  III.  bare  for  his  device  the  rays  of  the  Sun  dispersing 
themselves  out  of  a  cloud." 

15  The  right  name  of  this  man  is  Bardylis.  The  corruption  Bargulus 
comes  from  Cicero's  De  Officiis,  ii.  ii :  "  Bargulus,  Illyrius  Latro,  de  quo 
est  apud  Theopompum,  magpias  opes  habuit."  It  is  said  that  the  man  was 
originally  a  collier,  but  became  a  captain  of  freebooters,  and  finally  raised 
himself  to  the  throne  of  Illyria.  His  name  does  not  occur  in  any  extant 
fragment  of  Theopompus :  that  he  was  mentioned  by  that  writer  is  known 
only  from  Cicero. 


SCENE  I.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  213 

Suf.    Gelidus  timor  occupat  artus :  ^^  —  it  is  thee  I  fear. 

\VJiit.   Thou  shalt  have  cause  to  fear  before  I  leave  thee. 
What,  are  ye  daunted  now  ?  now  will  ye  stoop  ? 

I  Gent.    My  gracious  lord,  entreat  him,  speak  him  fair. 

Suf.    Suffolk's  imperial  tongue  is  stern  and  rough, 
Used  to  command,  untaught  to  plead  for  favour. 
Far  be  it  we  should  honour  such  as  these 
With  humble  suit :  no,  rather  let  my  head 
Stoop  to  the  block  than  these  knees  bow  to  any. 
Save  to  the  God  of  Heaven  and  to  my  King ; 
And  sooner  dance  upon  a  bloody  pole 
Than  stand  uncover'd  to  this  vulgar  groom. 
Exempt  is  true  nobility  from  fear  :  — 
More  can  I  bear  than  you  dare  execute. 

Cap.    Hale  him  away,  and  let  him  talk  no  more. 

Suf.    Come,  soldiers,  show  what  cruelty  ye  can. 
That  this  my  death  may  never  be  forgot !  — 
Great  men  oft  die  by  vile  besonians  :  ^'^ 
A  Roman  sworder  and  banditto  slave 
Murder'd  sweet  Tully ;  Brutus'  bastard  i^  hand 
Stabb'd  Julius  Caesar ;  savage  islanders 
Pompey  the  Great;  '^  and  Suffolk  dies  by  pirates. 

\Exeunt  Whttmore  and  others  with  Suffolk. 

1*  That  is,  "  Cold  terror  seizes  my  limbs."  The  source  of  these  words 
has  not  been  traced.  Perhaps  the  clause  is  a  corruption  of  Virgil's  "  Subitut 
tremor  occupat  artus." 

1''  A  besonian  is,  properly,  a  boor  or  dL  peasant. 

18  Servilia,  the  mother  of  Brutus,  was  an  intriguing,  unscrupulous  woman ; 
and  "the  mightiest  Julius  "  was  so  intimate  with  her,  that  a  scandal  arose 
of  his  being  the  father  of  her  stabbing  son.  In  fact,  however,  Cassar  was 
but  fifteen  years  older  than  Brutus. 

19  Pompey  was  killed  by  Achillas  and  Septimius  at  the  moment  that  the 
Egyptian  fishing-boat  which  they  were  in  reached  the  coast,  his  head  being 
thrown  into  the  sea ;  a  circumstance  sufficiently  resembling  Suffolk's  death 
to  bring  it  to  the  Poet's  memory ;  though  his  mention  of  it  is  not  qiaite 
accurate. 


214  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  IV. 

Cap.   And  as  for  these  whose  ransom  we  have  set, 
It  is  our  pleasure  one  of  them  depart :  — 
Therefore  come  you  with  us,  and  let  him  go. 

\_Exeunt  all  but  the  First  Gentleman. 

Re-enter  Whitmore  with  Suffolk's  body. 

Whit.    There  let  his  head  and  lifeless  body  lie. 
Until  the  Queen  his  mistress  bury  it.  \Exit. 

I  Gent.    O  barbarous  and  bloody  spectacle  ! 
His  body  will  I  bear  unto  the  King  : 
If  he  revenge  it*  not,  yet  will  his  friends  ; 
So  will  the  Queen,  that  living  held  him  dear. 

\^Exit  7vith  the  body. 

Scene  II. — Blackheath. 

Enter  George  Bevis  and  John  Holland. 

Geo.    Come,  and  get  thee  a  sword,  though  made  of  a  lath  : 
they  have  been  up  these  two  days. 
John.   They  have  the  more  need  to  sleep  now,  then. 
Geo.    I  tell  thee.  Jack  Cade  the  Clothier  means  to  dress 
the  commonwealth,  and  turn  it,  and  set  a  new  nap  upon  it. 

John.    So  he  had  need,  for  'tis  threadbare.     Well,  I  say  it 
was  never  merry  world  in  England  since  gentlemen  came  up. 
Geo.    O  miserable  age  !  virtue  is  not  regarded  in  handi- 
crafts-men. 
John.   The  nobility  think  scorn  to  go  in  leather  aprons. 
Geo.    Nay,  more,  the  King's  Council  are  no  good  work- 
men. 

John.  True  ;  and  yet  it  is  said,  Labour  in  thy  vocation  ; 
which  is  as  much  as  to  say.  Let  the  magistrates  be  labouring 
men  ;  and  therefore  should  we  be  magistrates. 

Geo.   Thou  hast  hit  it;    for  there's  no  better   sign  of  a 
brave  mind  than  a  hard  hand. 


SCExNE  II,  KING    HENRY   THE    SIXTH,  21 5 

John.  I  see  them  !  I  see  them  !  There's  Best's  son,  the 
tanner  of  Wingham,  — 

Geo.  He  shall  have  the  skins  of  our  enemies,  to  make 
dog's-leather  of, 

John.   And  Dick  the  butcher,  — 

Geo.  Then  is  sin  struck  down  like  an  ox,  and  iniquity's 
throat  cut  like  a  calf. 

John.   And  Smith  the  weaver,  — 

Geo.    Argo,  their  thread  of  life  is  spun, 

John.    Come,  come,  let's  fall  in  with  them. 

Drum.     Enter  Cade,  Dick  the  Butcher,  Smith  the  Weaver, 
and  others  in  great  number. 

Cade.   We  John  Cade,  so  term'd  of  our  supposed  father,  — 

Dick.    \_Aside.'\    Or  rather,  of  stealing  a  cade  of  herrings,' 

Cade.  —  or  for  our  enemies  shall  fall  before  us,  —  inspired 
with  the  spirit  of  putting  down  kings  and  princes,  —  Com- 
mand silence, 

Dick.    Silence  ! 

Cade.    My  father  was  a  Mortimer,  — 

Dick.  \_Aside.'\  He  was  an  honest  man,  and  a  good 
bricklayer. 

Cade.  —  my  mother  a  Plantagenet,  — 

Dick.    \_Asidel\    I  knew  her  well ;  she  was  a  midwife. 

Cade.  —  my  wife  descended  of  the  Lacies  ;  — 

Dick.  \_Aside^  She  was,  indeed,  a  pedler's  daughter,  and 
sold  many  laces, 

1  Tom  Nash  speaks  of  having  weighed  one  of  Gabriel  Harvey's  books 
against  a  cade  of  herrings,  and  ludicrously  says,  "  That  the  rebel  Jack  Cade 
was  the  first  that  devised  to  put  red  herrings  in  cades,  and  from  him  they 
have  their  name."  —  Lenten  Stuffe.  —  Cade,  however,  is  derived  fi-om  cadus, 
Latin,  a  cask.  Cade,  with  rather  more  learning  than  suits  his  character, 
alludes  to  his  name  as  firom  cado,  Xo/all.  —  "  for  our  enemies  shall  fall "  is 
because  our,  &c. 


2l6  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  IV. 

Smith.  \_Aside^  But  now  of  late,  not  able  to  travel  with 
her  furr'd  pack,  she  washes  bucks  here  at  home. 

Cade.  —  therefore  am  I  of  an  honourable  House. 

Dick.  [Aside.']  Ay,  by  my  faith,  the  iield  is  honourable  ; 
and  there  was  he  born,  under  a  hedge  ;  for  his  father  had 
never  a  house  but  the  cage.^ 

Cade.   Valiant  I  am. 

Smith.    [Aside.]    'A  must  needs ;  for  beggary  is  valiant. 

Cade.    I  am  able  to  endure  much. 

Z>ick.  [Aside.]  No  question  of  that ;  for  I  have  seen  him 
whipp'd  three  market-days  together. 

Cade.    I  fear  neither  sword  nor  fire. 

Smith.  [Aside.]  He  need  not  fear  the  sword ;  for  his 
coat  is  of  proof.^ 

Dick.  [Aside.]  But  methinks  he  should  stand  in  fear  of 
fire,  being  burnt  i'  the  hand  for  stealing  of  sheep. 

Cade.  Be  brave,  then ;  for  your  captain  is  brave,  and 
vows  reformation.  There  shall  be  in  England  seven  half- 
penny loaves  sold  for  a  penny  :  the  three-hoop'd  pot  shall 
have  ten  hoops ;  ^  and  I  will  make  it  felony  to  drink  small 
beer  :  all  the  realm  shall  be  in  common  ;  and  in  Cheapside 
shall  my  palfrey  go  to  grass  :  and,  when  I  am  king,  —  as  king 
I  will  be,  — 

A/l    God  save  your  Majesty  ! 

Cade.  I  thank  you,  good  people,  —  there  shall  be  no 
money ;  all  shall  eat  and  drink  on  my  score  ;  and  I  will  ap- 
parel them  all  in  one  livery,  that  they  may  agree  like  brothers, 
and  worship  me  their  lord. 

2  "  Little  places  of  prison,  set  commonly  in  the  market  place,  for  harlots 
and  vagabonds,  we  call  cages."  —  Baret. 

8  A  quibble  is  most  probably  intended  between  two  senses  of  the  word; 
one  as  being  able  to  resist,  the  other  as  being  well  tried,  that  is,  long  worn. 

*  These  drinking  vessels  of  our  ancestors  were  of  wood.  Nash,  in  his 
Pierce  Pennilesse,  says,  "  I  believe  hoopcs  in  quart  pots  were  invented  to  that 
end,  that  every  man  should  take  his  hoope,  and  no  more," 


SCENE  II.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  21/ 

Dick.   The  first  thing  we  do,  let's  kill  all  the  lawyers. 

Cade.  Nay,  that  I  mean  to  do.  Is  not  this  a  lamentable 
thing,  that  of  the  skin  of  an  innocent  lamb  should  be  made 
parchment  ?  that  parchment,  being  scribbled  o'er,  should  undo 
a  man  ?  Some  say  the  bee  stings  :  but  I  say,  'tis  the  bee's 
wax ;  for  I  did  but  seal  once  to  a  thing,  and  I  was  never 
mine  own  man  since.  —  How  now  !  who's  there  ? 

Enter  some,  bringing  in  the  Clerk  of  Chatham. 

Smith.  The  clerk  of  Chatham:  he  can  write  and  read  and 

cast  accompt. 

Cade.    O  monstrous  ! 

Smith.   We  took  him  setting  of  boys'  copies. 

Cade.    Here's  a  villain  ! 

Smith.    'Has  a  book  in  his  pocket  with  red  letters  in't. 

Cade.   Nay,  then  he  is  a  conjurer. 

Dick.  Nay,  he  can  make  obligations,^  and  wTite  court- 
hand. 

Cade.  I  am  sorry  for't :  the  man  is  a  proper  man,  of  mine 
honour ;  unless  I  find  him  guilty,  he  shall  not  die.  —  Come 
hither,  sirrah,  I  must  examine  thee  :  what  is  thy  name  ? 

Clerk.    Emmanuel. 

Dick.  They  used  to  write  it  on  the  top  of  letters  :  ^  —  'twill 
go  hard  with  you. 

Cade.  Let  me  alone.  —  Dost  thou  use  to  write  thy  name  ? 
or  hast  thou  a  mark  to  thyself,  like  an  honest  plain-dealing 
man? 

Clerk.  Sir,  I  thank  God,  I  have  been  so  well  brought  up 
that  I  can  ^vrite  my  name. 

*  Obligations  here  is  equivalent  to  bonds. 

6  That  is,  on  the  top  of  Letters  Missive  and  such  like  public  acts.  So,  in 
the  old  anonymous  play  of  King  Henry  F.,  the  Archbishop  of  Bruges  says, 
"  I  beseech  your  grace  to  deliver  me  your  safe  conduct,  under  your  broad 
seal  Emanueiy  The  king  answers,  "  Deliver  him  safe  conduct  under  our 
broad  seal  Emanuel." 


2l8  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  iv. 

All.  He  hath  confess'd  :  away  with  him  !  he's  a  villain  and 
a  traitor. 

Cade.  Away  with  him,  I  say  !  hang  him  with  his  pen  and 
inkhorn  about  his  neck.  \_Exeuiit  some  with  the  Clerk. 

Enter  Michael. 

Mich.   Where's  our  general  ? 

Cade.    Here  I  am,  thou  particular  fellow. 

Mich.  Fly,  fly,  fly  !  Sir  Humphrey  Stafford  and  his  bro- 
ther are  hard  by,  with  the  King's  forces. 

Cade.  Stand,  villain,  stand,  or  I'll  fell  thee  down.  He 
shall  be  encounter'd  with  a  man  as  good  as  himself :  he  is 
but  a  knight,  is  'a  ? 

Mich.    No. 

Cade.  To  equal  him,  I  will  make  myself  a  knight  pres- 
ently. \^Kneels^  Rise  up.  Sir  John  Mortimer.  \^Risesl\  Now 
have  at  him  ! 

Enter  Sir  Humphrey  Stafford  atid  William  his  Brother, 
with  drum  a7id  Forces. 

Staf.    Rebellious  hinds,  the  filth  and  scum  of  Kent, 
Mark'd  for  the  gallows,  lay  your  weapons  down ; 
Home  to  your  cottages,  forsake  this  groom  : 
The  King  is  merciful,  if  you  revolt.''' 

W.  Staf.   But  angry,  wrathful,  and  inclined  to  blood, 
If  you  go  forward  ;  therefore  yield,  or  die. 

Cade.    As  for  these  silken-coated  slaves,  I  pass  not :  ^ 

'  Revolt,  here,  is  desert ;  that  is,  fall  off  from  Cade,  and  return  to  duty. 
The  Poet  has  many  instances  of  revolt  used  in  that  sense.  So,  in  Richard  III., 
iv.  4,  when  the  King  suspects  Stanley  of  intending  to  go  over  to  Richmond, 
he  says  to  him,  "  Thou  wilt  revolt,  and  fly  to  him,  I  fear."  And  in  /  Henry 
IV.,  iv.  2,  Falstaff  speaks  of  some  of  his  recruits  as  "revolted  tapsters"; 
that  is,  tapsters  who  have  deserted  or  run  away  from  their  employers. 

8  "  I  pass  not "  is  "  I  care  not."  Shakespeare  has  no  other  instance  of 
the  word  so  used ;  but  Drayton  has  it  in  his  Quest  of  Cynthia  :  "  Transform 
me  to  what  shape  you  can,  I  pass  not  what  it  be." 


SCENE  II.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  2I9 

It  is  to  you,  good  people,  that  I  speak, 

O'er  whom,  in  time  to  come,  I  hope  to  reign ; 

For  I  am  rightful  heir  unto  the  crown. 

Staf.   Villain,  thy  father  was  a  plasterer ; 
And  thou  thyself  a  shearman,  art  thou  not  ? 

Cade.    And  Adam  was  a  gardener. 

IV.  Staf.   What  of  that? 

Cade.    Marry,  this  :  Edmund  Moitimer,  Earl  of  March, 
Married  the  Duke  of  Clarence'  daughter,  did  he  not  ? 

Siaf.    Ay,  sir. 

Cade.    By  her  he  had  two  children  at  one  birth. 

W.  Staf.   That's  false. 

Cade.   Ay,  there's  the  question  ;  but  I  say  'tis  true  : 
The  elder  of  them,  being  put  to  nurse. 
Was  by  a  beggar-woman  stol'n  away ; 
And,  ignorant  of  his  birth  and  parentage. 
Became  a  bricklayer  when  he  came  to  age  : 
His  son  am  I ;  deny  it,  if  you  can. 

Dick.    Nay,  'tis  too  true  ;  therefore  he  shall  be  king. 

Smith.  Sir,  he  made  a  chimney  in  my  father's  house,  and 
the  bricks  are  alive  at  this  day  to  testify  it ;  therefore  deny 
it  not. 

Staf.   And  will  you  credit  this  base  drudge's  words, 
That  speaks  he  knows  not  what  ? 

All.    Ay,  marry,  will  we  ;  therefore  get  ye  gone. 

W.  Staf    Jack  Cade,  the  Duke  of  York  hath  taught  you 
this. 

Cade.  {^Aside.l  He  lies,  for  I  invented  it  myself — Go 
to,  sirrah,  tell  the  King  from  me,  that,  for  his  father's  sake, 
Henry  the  Fifth,  in  whose  time  boys  went  to  span-counter  ^ 

9  span-counter,  according  to  Strutt,  was  a  boyish  game  played  with  mar- 
bles, or  with  counters ;  one  boy  throwing  a  counter,  or  a  piece  of  money, 
which  the  next  one  wins,  if  he  throws  another  counter  so  as  to  hit  the  for- 
mer, or  lie  within  a  span  of  it. 


220  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  IV. 

for  French  crowns,  I  am  content  he  shall  reign ;  but  I'll  be 
protector  over  him. 

Dick.  And,  furthermore,  we'll  have  the  Lord  Say's  head 
for  selling  the  dukedom  of  Maine. 

Cade.  And  good  reason ;  for  thereby  is  England  mained,i° 
and  fain  to  go  with  a  staff,  but  that  my  puissance  holds  it  up. 
Fellow-kings,  I  tell  you  that  that  Lord  Say  hath  gelded  the 
commonwealth,  and  made  it  an  eunuch  :  and,  more  than  that, 
he  can  speak  French ;  and  therefore  he  is  a  traitor. 

Staf.    O  gross  and  miserable  ignorance  ! 

Cade.  Nay,  answer,  if  you  can  :  The  Frenchmen  are  our 
enemies ;  go  to,  then,  I  ask  but  this,  can  he  that  speaks 
with  the  tongue  of  an  enemy  be  a  good  counsellor,  or  no  ? 

All.    No,  no  ;  and  therefore  we'll  have  his  head. 

W.  Staf.    Well,  seeing  gentle  words  will  not  prevail, 
Assail  them  with  the  army  of  the  King. 

Staf.    Herald,  away ;  and  throughout  every  town 
Proclaim  them  traitors  that  are  up  with  Cade ; 
That  those  which  fly  before  the  battle  ends 
May,  even  in  their  wives'  and  children's  sight. 
Be  hang'd  up  for  example  at  their  doors  :  — 
And  you  that  be  the  King's  friends,  follow  me. 

\Exeiint  the  two  Staffords  and  Forces. 

Cade.   And  you  that  love  the  commons,  follow  me. 
Now  show  yourselves  men ;  'tis  for  liberty. 
We  will  not  leave  one  lord,  one  gentleman  : 
Spare  none  but  such  as  go  in  clouted  shoon ;  ^^ 
For  they  are  thrifty  honest  men,  and  such 
As  would  —  but  that  they  dare  not  —  take  our  parts. 
Dick.   They  are  all  in  order,  and  march  toward  us. 

1"  It  appears  that  to  mahte  was  used  provincially  for  to  lame.  The 
quibble  between  Mahte  and  mained  is  obvious  enough. 

11  Clouted  shoon  IS  shoes  strengthened  with  clout-nails;  much  the  same 
as  what  the  Poet  elsewhere  calls  clouted  brogues. 


SCENE  III.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  221 

Cade.  But  then  are  we  in  order  when  we  are  most  out  of 
order.     Come,  maich  forward  !  \^Exeunt 

Scene  III.  —  Anoiher  Part  of  Blackheath. 

Alarums.     TTie  two  Parties  enter  atid  fight,  and  boA   the 
Staffords  are  slain. 

Cade.   WTiere's  Dick,  the  butcher  of  Ashford? 

Dick.    Here,  sir. 

Cade.  They  fell  before  thee  like  sheep  and  oxen,  and  thou 
behavedst  thyself  as  if  thou  hadst  been  in  thine  own  slaugh- 
ter-house ;  therefore  thus  will  I  reward  thee  :  The  Lent  shall 
be  as  long  again  as  it  is ;  and  thou  shalt  have  a  license  for  to 
kill  a  hundred  lacking  one  a-week.^ 

Dick.    I  desire  no  more. 

Cade.  And,  to  speak  truth,  thou  deservest  no  less.  This 
monument  of  the  victory  will  I  bear ;  \_Putting  on  part  of 
Sir  H.  Stafford's  armour^  ^  and  the  bodies  shall  be  dragg'd 
at  my  horse'  heels  till  I  do  come  to  London,  where  we  will 
have  the  mayor's  sword  borne  before  us. 

Dick.  If  we  mean  to  thrive  and  do  good,  break  open  the 
jails,  and  let  out  the  prisoners. 

Cade.  Fear  not  that,  I  warrant  thee.  —  Come,  let's  march 
towards  London.  [^Exeunt. 

1  Reference  is  had  to  an  order  of  Qizabeth's  time  strictly  enjoining  upon 
butchers  not  to  sell  fiesb-meat  in  Lent ;  which  order  was  not  so  much  with 
a  religious  view,  as  to  diminish  the  consumption  of  flesh  during  that  season, 
and  so  make  it  more  plentiful  the  rest  of  the  year,  and  also  to  encourage 
the  fisheries,  and  augment  the  number  of  seamen.  Butchers,  however,  who 
had  interest  at  Court  were  often  &.voiu«d  with  a  special  disp>ensation  from 
this  order,  on  the  pretence  of  supplying  invalids  who  could  not  subsist  with- 
out animal  food. 

2  So  Holinshed :  "  Jack  Cade,  upon  his  victorie  against  the  Staflfords, 
apparelled  bimselfe  in  sir  Humiries  brigandine,  set  fiill  of  gilt  nailes,  and  s<^ 
in  some  glorie  retiimed  againe  toward  London." 


222  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  IV. 


Scene  IV. — London.     A  Room  in  the  Palace. 

Enter  King  Henry,  reading  a  supplication ;  the  Duke  of 
Buckingham  and  Lord  Say  ivith  him :  at  some  distance, 
Queen  Margaret,  mourning  over  Suffolk's  head. 

Queen.    Oft  have  I  heard  that  grief  softens  the  mind, 
And  makes  it  fearful  and  degenerate  ; 
Think  therefore  on  revenge,  and  cease  to  weep. 
But  who  can  cease  to  weep,  and  look  on  this  ? 
Here  may  his  head  lie  on  my  throbbing  breast : 
But  where 's  the  body  that  I  should  embrace  ? 

Buck.  What  answer  makes  your  Grace  to  the  rebel's  sup- 
plication ? 

King.    I'll  send  some  holy  bishop  to  entreat ; 
For  God  forbid  so  many  simple  souls 
Should  perish  by  the  sword  !     And  I  myself, 
Rather  than  bloody  war  shall  cut  them  short, 
Will  parley  with  Jack  Cade  their  general. 
But  stay,  I'll  read  it  over  once  again. 

Queen.    Ah,  barbarous  villains  !  hath  this  lovely  face 
Ruled,  like  a  wandering  planet,  over  me,i 
And  could  it  not  enforce  them  to  relent. 
That  were  unworthy  to  behold  the  same  ? 

King.    Lord   Say,   Jack   Cade    hath   sworn   to   have   thy 
head. 

Say.   Ay,  but  I  hope  your  Highness  shall  have  his. 

King.    How  now,  madam  ! 
Lamenting  still,  and  mourning  Suffolk's  death  ? 
I  fear  me,  love,  if  that  I  had  been  dead, 

1  An  astrological  allusion ;  meaning  that  Suffolk  predominated  over  her 
passions,  as  the  planets  did  over  those  born  under  their  influence.  Such 
planetary  predominance  was  held  to  be  irresistible.  See  vol.  vii.  page  148, 
note  21. 


SCENE  IV.  KING   HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  223 

Thou  wouldest  not  have  moum'd  so  much  for  me. 

Queen,    No,  love,  I  should  not  mourn,  but  die  for  thee. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

King.    How  now  !  what  news  ?  why  comest  thou  in  such 
haste? 

Aless.   The  rebels  are  in  Southwark  ;  fly,  my  lord  ! 
Jack  Cade  proclaims  himself  Lord  Mortimer, 
Descended  from  the  Duke  of  Clarence'  House  ; 
And  calls  your  Grace  usurper  openly. 
And  vows  to  crown  himself  in  Westminster. 
His  army  is  a  ragged  multitude 
Of  hinds  and  peasants,  rude  and  merciless : 
Sir  Humphrey  Stafford  and  his  brother's  death 
Hath  given  them  heart  and  courage  to  proceed  : 
All  scholars,  lawyers,  courtiers,  gentlemen. 
They  call  false  caterpillars,  and  intend  their  death. 

King.    O  graceless  men  !  they  know  not  what  they  do. 

Buck.    My  gracious  lord,  retire  to  Killingworth,"^ 
Until  a  power  be  raised  to  put  them  down. 

Queen.   Ah,  were  the  Duke  of  Suffolk  now  alive. 
These  Kentish  rebels  would  be  soon  appeased  ! 

King.    Lord  Say,  the  traitor  hateth  thee  ; 
Therefore  away  with  us  to  Killingworth. 

Say.    So  might  your  Grace's  p>er3t)n  be  in  danger; 
The  sight  of  me  is  odious  in  their. eyes  : 
And  therefore  in  this  city  will  I  stay. 
And  live  alone  as  secret  as  I  may. 

Enter  a  second  Messenger. 

2  Mess.   Jack  Cade  hath  gotten  London-bridge  ; 
The  citizens  fly  and  forsake  their  houses  : 

2  Killingworth  is  the  ancient  name  of  the  castle  so  celebrated  under  the 
name  of  Kenilworth.     Holinshed  always  calls  it  Killingworth. 


224  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  IV. 

The  rascal  people,  thirsting  after  prey, 
Join  with  the  traitor ;  and  they  jointly  swear 
To  spoil  the  city  and  your  royal  Court. 

Buck.   Then  linger  not,  my  lord  ;  away,  take  horse. 

King.    Come,  Margaret ;  God,  our  hope,  will  succour  us. 

Queen.    My  hope  is  gone,  now  Suffolk  is  deceased. 

King.    \To   Lord  Say.]    Farewell,    my   lord:    trust   not 
the  Kentish  rebels. 

Buck.   Trust  nobody,  for  fear  you  be  betray'd. 

Say.   The  trust  I  have  is  in  mine  innocence. 
And  therefore  am  I  bold  and  resolute.  \_Exeunt. 


Scene  V.  —  The  Same.     The  Tower. 

Enter  Lord  Scales,  and  others,  on  the  walls.     Then  enter 
certain  Citizens,  below. 

Scales.    How  now  !  is  Jack  Cade  slain  ? 

I  Cit.  No,  my  lord,  nor  likely  to  be  slain ;  for  they  have 
won  the  bridge,  killing  all  thqse  that  withstand  them  :  the 
Lord  Mayor  craves  aid  of  your  Honour  from  the  Tower,  to 
defend  the  city  from  the  rebels. 

Scales.    Such  aid  as  I  can  spare,  you  shall  command ; 
But  I  am  troubled  here  with  them  myself; 
The  rebels  have  assay 'd  to  win  the  Tower. 
But  get  you  to  Smithfield,  and  gather  head. 
And  thither  I  will  send  you  Matthew  Gough  : 
Fight  for  your  King,  your  country,  and  your  lives ; 
And  so,  farewell,  for  I  must  hence  again.  [Exeunt. 


KING    HENRY   THE    SIXTH.  225 


Scene  VI.  —  The  Same.     Cannon-Street. 

Enter  Cade  and  his  Followers.     He  strikes  his  staff  on  LoH' 
don-stone. 

Cade.  Now  is  Mortimer  lord  of  this  city.  And  here,  sit- 
ting upon  London-stone,  I  charge  and  command,  that,  of  the 
city's  cost,  the  pissing-conduit  run  nothing  but  claret  wine 
this  first  year  of  our  reign.  .\nd  now  henceforvvard  it  shall 
be  treason  for  any  that  calls  me  other  than  Lord  Mortimer. 

Enter  a  Soldier,  f-unning. 

Sold.  Jack  Cade  !  Jack  Cade  ! 

Cade.    Knock  him  down  there.  \They  kill  him. 

Smith.  If  this  fellow  be  wise,  he'll  never  call  ye  Jack  Cade 
more  :  I  think  he  hath  a  very  fair  warning. 

Dick.  My  lord,  there's  an  army  gathered  together  in 
Smithfield. 

Cade.  Come,  then,  let's  go  fight  with  them  :  but  first,  go 
and  set  London-bridge  on  fire  ;  *  and,  if  you  can,  bum  down 
the  Tower  too.     Come,  let's  away.  \_Exeunt. 


Scene  VII.  —  The  Same.     Smithfield. 

Alarums.  Enter,  on  one  side.  Cade  and  his  Company ;  on 
the  other,  Citizens,  and  the  King's  Forces,  headed  by 
Matthew  Gough.  They  fight ;  the  Citizens  are  routed, 
and  GouGH  is  slain. 


1  At  that  time  London-bridge  was  of  wood;  and  the  houses  upon  it  were 
actually  burnt  in  Cade's  rebellion.  Hall  says  "  he  entered  London,  and  cut 
the  ropes  of  the  draw-bridge." 


226  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  act  iv. 

Cade.  So,  sirs  :  now  go  some  and  pull  down  the  Savoy ;  ^ 
others  to  the  Inns-of-Court ;  3  down  with  them  all. 

Dick.   I  have  a  suit  unto  your  lordship. 

Cade.    Be  it  a  lordship,  thou  shalt  have  it  for  that  word. 

Dick.  Only,  that  the  laws  of  England  may  come  out  of 
your  mouth.^ 

John.  \_Aside.'\  Mass,  'twill  be  sore  law,  then ;  for  he  was 
thrust  in  the  mouth  with  a  spear,  and  'tis  not  whole  yet. 

Smith.  \_Aside.'\  Nay,  John,  it  will  be  stinking  law;  for 
his  breath  stinks  with  eating  toasted  cheese. 

Cade.  I  have  thought  upon  it,  it  shall  be  so.  Away,  burn 
all  the  records  of  the  realm :  my  mouth  shall  be  the  parlia- 
ment of  England. 

John.  \_Aside^  Then  we  are  like  to  have  biting  statutes, 
unless  his  teeth  be  puU'd  out. 

Cade.    And  henceforward  all  things  shall  be  in  common. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  My  lord,  a  prize,  a  prize  !  here's  the  Lord  Say, 
which  sold  the  towns  in  France  ;  he  that  made  us  pay  one- 
and-twenty  fifteens,^  and  one  shilling  to  the  pound,  the  last 
subsidy. 

2  The  Poet  here  borrows  an  incident  from  an  earlier  time.  The  old 
Savoy  was  destroyed  in  the  rebellion  of  Wat  Tyler,  the  famous  predecessor 
of  Jack  Cade  in  the  work  of  reform.  This  was  in  1381,  in  the  reign  of 
Richard  the  Second.  The  old  Savoy  is  said  to  have  been  the  most  magni- 
ficent palace  in  England.  It  belonged  to  the  Duke  of  Lancaster.  The 
more  modern  structure  of  that  name  was  built  in  the  time  of  Henry  the 
Sixth,  who  founded  the  hospital. 

3  The  Inns-of-Court  were  the  places  where  the  lawyers  had  their  lodgings 
and  pursued  their  studies.  There  were  several  of  them  in  London ;  as  Lin- 
coln's Inn,  Grey's  Inn,  &c. 

*  It  was  reported,  indeed,  that  he  should  sale  with  great  pride  that 
within  four  dales  all  the  laws  of  England  should  come  foorth  of  his  mouth. — 

HOLINSHED. 

s  K  fifteen  was  ihe  fifteenth  part  of  all  the  movables,  or  personal  property 
of  each  subject. 


I 


SCENE  VII.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  22/ 

Enter  George  Bevis,  with  the  Lord  Say. 

Cade.  Well,  he  shall  be  beheaded  for  it  ten  times.  —  Ah, 
thou  say,  thou  serge,*"  nay,  thou  buckram  lord  !  now  art  thou 
within  point-blank  of  our  jurisdiction  regal.  What  canst  thou 
answer  to  my  Majesty  for  giving  up  of  Normandy  unto  Mon- 
sieur Basimecu,  the  Dauphin  of  France  ?  Be  it  known  unto 
thee  by  these  presence,  even  the  presence  of  Lord  Mortimer, 
that  I  am  the  besom  that  must  sweep  the  Court  clean  of  such 
filth  as  thou  art.  Thou  hast  most  traitorously  corrupted  the 
youth  of  the  realm  in  erecting  a  grammar-school :  and, 
whereas,  before,  our  forefathers  had  no  other  books  but  the 
score  and  the  tally,  thou  hast  (;aused  printing  to  be  used ; ' 
and,  contrary  to  the  King,  his  crown,  and  dignity,  thou  hast 
built  a  paper-mill.  It  will  be  proved  to  thy  face  that  thou 
hast  men  about  thee  that  usually  talk  of  a  noun  and  a  verb, 
and  such  abominable  words  as  no  Christian  ear  can  endure 
to  hear.  Thou  hast  appointed  justices  of  peace,  to  call  poor 
men  before  them  about  matters  they  were  not  able  to 
answer.  Moreover,  thou  hast  put  them  in  prison ;  and, 
because  they  could  not  read,  thou  hast  hang'd  them ;  when, 
indeed,  only  for  that  cause  they  have  been  most  worthy  to 
live.     Thou  dost  ride  on  a  foot-cloth,^  dost  thou  not? 


8  Say  is  a  kind  of  thin  woollen  stuff  <  jr  serge 

^  Shakespeare  is  a  little  too  early  with  this  accusation.  Yet  Meerman,  in 
his  Origines  Typographicce,  has  availed  himself  of  this  passage  to  support 
his  hypothesis  that  printing  was  introduced  into  England  by  Frederick  Cor- 
sellis,  one  of  Coster's  workmen,  from  Haarlem  in  the  time  of  Henry  VI. 
Shakespeare's  anachronisms  are  not  more  extraordinary  than  those  of  his 
contemporaries.  Spenser  mentions  cloth  made  at  Lincoln  in  the  ideal 
reign  of  King  Arthur,  and  has  adorned  a  castle  at  the  same  period  with 
cloth  of  Arras  and  of  Tours. 

8  A  foot-clotk  was  a  kind  of  housing,  which  covered  the  body  of  the 
horse :  it  was  sometimes  made  of  velvet  and  bordered  Nvith  gold  lace.  This 
is  a  reproach  truly  characteristic :  nothing  gives  so  much  offence  to  the 
lower  orders  as  the  sight  of  superfluities  merely  ostentatious. 


228  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  IV. 

Say.   What  of  that? 

Cade.  Marry,  thou  oughtest  not  to  let  thy  horse  wear  a 
cloak,  when  honester  men  than  thou  go  in  their  hose  and 
doublets. 

Dick.  And  work  in  their  shirt  too ;  as  myself,  for  example, 
that  am  a  butcher. 

Say.   You  men  of  Kent,  — 

Dick.   What  say  you  of  Kent  ? 

Say.    Nothing  but  this,  —  'tis  bona  terra,  mala  gens. 

Cade.    Away  with  him,  away  with  him  !  he  speaks  Latin. 

Say.    Hear  me  but  speak,  and  bear  me  where  you  will. 
Kent,  in  the  Commentaries  Caesar  writ, 
Is  term'd  the  civill'st  place  of  all  this  isle  -.^ 
Sweet  ^"^  is  the  country,  beauteous,  full  of  riches; 
The  people  liberal,  valiant,  active,  worthy ; 
Which  makes  me  hope  you  are  not  void  of  pity. 
I  sold  not  Maine,  I  lost  not  Normandy ; 
Yet,  to  recover  them,  would  lose  my  life. 
Justice  with  favour  have  I  always  done  ; 
Prayers  and  tears  have  moved  me,  gifts  could  never. 
When  have  I  aught  exacted  at  your  hands. 
But  to  maintain  the  King,  the  realm,  and  you? 
Large  gifts  have  I  bestow' d  on  learned  clerks. 
Because  my  book  preferr'd  ^ '  me  to  the  King  : 
And,  seeing  ignorance  is  the  curse  of  God, 
Knowledge  the  wing  wherewith  we  fly  to  Heaven, 
Unless  you  be  possess'd  with  devilish  spirits, 

"  Caesar's  words  are,  "  Ex  his  omnibus  humanissimi,  qui  Cantium  in- 
colunt."  Thus  translated  by  Golding,  1590 :  "  Of  all  the  inhabitants  of  the 
isle,  the  civUest  are  the  Kentish-folke." 

10  Sweet  here  means  wholeso7ne ,  salubrious. 

11  Preferr'd  is  recommended.  Often  so.  Say's  meaning  is,  that  his  learn- 
ing had  gained  him  the  King's  favour,  and  thus  enabled  him  to  patronize 
scholars.  We  have  book  again  put  for  learning  in  King  Henry  VIII.,  i.  1 : 
"  A  beggar's  book  outworths  a  noble's  blood." 


KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH. 


229 


You  cannot  but  forbear  to  murder  me  : 
This  tongue  hath  parley'd  unto  foreign  kings 
For  your  behoof,  — 

Cade.   Tut,  when  struck 'st  thou  one  blow  in  the  field? 

Say.    Great  men  have  reaching  hands  :  oft  have  I  struck 
Those  that  I  never  saw,  and  struck  them  dead. 

Geo.    O  monstrous  coward  1  what,  to  come  behind  folks  ? 

Say.   These  cheeks  are  pale  for  >-  watching  for  your  good. 

Cade.  Give  him  a  box  o'  th'  ear,  and  that  will  make  'em 
red  again. 

Say.    Long  sitting  to  determine  poor  men's  causes 
Hath  made  me  full  of  sickness  and  diseases. 

Cade.  Ye  shall  have  hempen  caudle,  then,  and  the  help 
of  hatchet. '3 

Dick.   Why  dost  thou  quiver,  man  ? 

Say.    It  is  the  palsy,  and  not  fear,  provokes  me. 

Cade.  Nay,  he  nods  at  us,  as  who  should  say,  I'll  be  even 
with  you  :  I'll  see  if  his  head  will  stand  steadier  on  a  pole,  or 
no.     Take  him  away,  and  behead  him. 

Say.   Tell  me  wherein  have  I  offended  most  ? 
Have  I  affected  wealth  or  honour, — speak? 
Are  my  chests  fill'd  up  with  extorted  gold  ? 
Is  my  apparel  sumptuous  to  behold  ? 
Whom  have  I  injured,  that  ye  seek  my  death  ? 
These  hands  are  free  fi-om  guiltless  blood-shedding,!"* 
This  breast  from  harbouring  foul  deceitful  thoughts. 
O,  let  me  live  ! 


12  Here,  as  often, yi>r  is  equivalent  to  because  of. 

13  "  Hempen  caudle  "  and  "  help  of  hatchet  "  appear  to  have  been  a  sort 
of  cant  phrases  for  hanging  and  beheading,  or,  perhaps,  for  hanging  and 
quartering.  Dr.  Ingleby  notes  upon  the  passage,  "  Cade  proposed  to  cure 
Lord  Say's  sickness  by  the  aid  of  '  the  sure  ph>-sician  death,'  by  giving  him 
the  rope  or  the  axe."     Caudle  was  a  warm  drink ;  a  cordial. 

1*  That  is,  fi-ee  from  shedding  guiltless  or  innocent  blood. 


230  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  IV. 

Cade.  \^Aside.'\  I  feel  remorse  ^^  in  myself  with  his  words  ; 
but  I'll  bridle  it :  he  shall  die,  an  it  be  but  for  pleading  so 
well  for  his  life. — Away  with  him  !  he  has  a  familiar  ^^  under 
his  tongue  ;  he  speaks  not  o'  God's  name.  Go,  take  him 
away,  I  say,  and  strike  off  his  head  presently  ;  and  then  break 
into  his  son-in-law's  house,  Sir  James  Cromer,  and  strike  off 
his  head,  and  bring  them  both  upon  two  poles  hither. 

All.    It  shall  be  done. 

Say.    Ah,  countrymen  !  if,  when  you  make  your  prayers, 
God  should  be  so  obdurate  as  yourselves. 
How  would  it  fare  with  your  departed  souls  ? 
And  therefore  yet  relent,  and  save  my  life. 

Cade.    Away  with  him  !  and  do  as  I  command  ye.  — 

\_Exetint  some  with  Lord  Say. 
The  proudest  peer  in  the  realm  shall  not  wear  a  head  on  his 
shoulders,  unless  he  pay  me  tribute  ;  there  shall  not  a  maid 
be  married,  but  she  shall  pay  to  me  her  maidenhead  ere 
they  have  it :  men  shall  hold  of  me  in  capite  ;  and  we  charge 
and  command  that  their  wives  be  as  free  as  heart  can  wish 
or  tongue  can  tell. 

Dick.  My  lord,  when  shall  we  go  to  Cheapside,  and  take 
up  commodities  upon  our  bills  ?  ^'' 

Cade.    Marry,  presently. 

All.    O,  brave  ! 

Re-enter  Rebels,  with  the  heads  of  Lord  Say  and  his  Son- 
in-law. 

Cade.  But  is  not  this  braver?  —  Let  them  kiss  one  an- 
other, for  they  loved  well  when  they  were  alive.  Now  part 
them  again,  lest  they  consult  about  the  giving-up  of  some 

1"  Here,  as  usual,  remorse  \s  pity  or  compassion. 
16  A  demon  or  spirit,  who  is  supposed  to  come  when  called. 
IT  Dick  is  quibbling  between  bills  of  credit  and  pikes,  or  rustic  weapons, 
also  called  bills.    See  vol.  iv.  page  211,  note  11. 


SCENE  VIII.  KING    HENRY   THE    SIXTH.  23 1 

more  towns  in  France.  Soldiers,  defer  the  spoil  of  the  city 
until  night :  for  with  these  borne  before  us,  instead  of  maces, 
will  we  ride  through  the  streets ;  and  a*  every  comer  have 
them  kiss.     Away  !  {Exeunt. 


Scene  VIII. — Southwark. 

Alarums.     Enter  Cade  and  all  his  Rabblement. 

Cade.  Up  Fish-street !  down  Saint  Magnus'-comer  !  kill 
and  knock  down  !  throw  them  into  Thames  !  —  \_A  parley 
sounded,  then  a  retreatJ]  What  noise  is  this  I  hear  ?  Dare 
any  be  so  bold  to  sound  retreat  or  parley,  when  I  command 
them  kill? 

Enter  Buckingham  and  old  Clifford,  with  Forces. 

Buck.    Ay,  here  they  be  that  dare  and  will  disturb  thee : 
Know,  Cade,  we  come  ambassadors  from  the  King 
Unto  the  commons  whom  thou  hast  misled ; 
And  here  pronounce  free  pardon  to  them  all 
That  \vill  forsake  thee  and  go  home  in  peace. 

O.  Clif.   What  say  ye,  countrymen?  will  ye  relent. 
And  yield  to  mercy  whilst  'tis  ofTer'd  you. 
Or  let  a  rebel  lead  you  to  your  deaths  ? 
\Vho  loves  the  King,  and  will  embrace  his  pardon, 
Fling  up  his  cap,  and  say,  God  save  his  Majesty  / 
Who  hateth  him,  and  honours  not  his  father, 
Henry  the  Fifth,  that  made  all  France  to  quake. 
Shake  he  his  weapon  at  us,  and  pass  by. 

All.     God  save  the  King  !     God  save  the  King  ! 

Cade.  \\' hat,  Buckingham  and  Clifford,  are  ye  so  brave  ? 
—  And  you,  base  peasants,  do  ye  believe  them?  will  you 
needs  be  hang'd  with  your  pardons  about  your  necks  ?  Hath 
my  sword  therefore  broke  through  London  gates,  that  you 


232  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  IV. 

should  leave  me  at  the  White  Hart  in  Southwark  ?  I  thought 
ye  would  never  have  given  out  1  these  arms  till  you  had 
recovered  your  ancient  freedom  :  but  you  are  all  recreants 
and  dastards,  and  delight  to  live  in  slavery  to  the  nobility. 
Let  them  break  your  backs  with  burdens,  take  your  houses 
over  your  heads,  ravish  jour  wives  and  daughters  before 
your  faces  :  for  me,  I  will  make  shift  for  one  ;  and  so,  God's 
curse  light  upon  you  all ! 

All.   We'll  follow  Cade  !  we'll  follow  Cade  ! 

O.  Clif.    Is  Cade  the  son  of  Henry  the  Fifth, 
That  thus  you  do  exclaim  you'll  go  with  him  ? 
Will  he  conduct  you  through  the  heart  of  France, 
And  make  the  meanest  of  you  earls  and  dukes  ? 
Alas,  he  hath  no  home,  no  place  to  fly  to ; 
Nor  knows  he  how  to  live  but  by  the  spoil. 
Unless  by  robbing  of  your  friends  and  us. 
Were't  not  a  shame,  that,  whilst  you  live  at  jar. 
The  fearful  French,  whom  you  late  vanquished. 
Should  make  a  start  o'er  seas,  and  vanquish  you  ? 
Methinks  already  in  this  civil  broil 
I  see  them  lording  it  in  London  streets, 
Crying  Viliaco  !  ^  unto  all  they  meet. 
Better  ten  thousand  base-born  Cades  miscarry 
Than  you  should  stoop  unto  a  Frenchman's  mercy. 
To  France,  to  France,  and  get  what  you  have  lost ; 


^  Staunton  says  that  "  to  ^ive  out  in  the  sense  of  resign  or  surrender  is 
yet  current  among  the  vulgar."  —  In  the  preceding  line  there  is,  probably, 
as  Walker  notes,  a  quibble  between  Hart  and  heart ;  as  a  white  heart  was 
"  a  badge  of  pusillanimity  and  cowardice." 

2  Viliaco  is  a  term  of  reproach  not  seldom  met  with  in  old  authors.  So 
in  Jonson's  Every  Alan  out  of  his  Humour,  v.  3  :  "  Now  out,  base  viliaco!' 
Upon  which  Gifford  notes  thus:  "This  word  occurs  in  Dekker:  'Before 
they  came  near  the  great  hall,  the  faint-hearted  viliacoes  sounded  at  least 
thrice.'  Untrussing  the  Humorous  Poet.  In  both  places  it  means  a  worth- 
less dastard  (from  the  Italian  vigliacco)." 


SCENE  IX.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  233 

Spare  England,  for  it  is  your  native  coast : 
Henry  hath  money,  you  are  strong  and  manly ;  ^ 
God  on  our  side,  doubt  not  of  victory. 

Aa.  A  Clifford  !  a  Clifford  !  «'e'll  follow  the  King  and 
Clifford. 

Cadg.  \_Aside.'\  Was  ever  feather  so  lightly  blowm  to  and 
fro  as  this  multitude  ?  the  name  of  Henry  the  Fifth  hales 
them  to  an  hundred  mischiefs,  and  makes  them  leave  me 
desolate.  I  see  them  lay  their  heads  together  to  surprise 
me  :  my  sword  make  way  for  me,  for  here  is  no  staying. 
—  In  despite  of  the  devils  and  Hell,  have  through  the  very 
middest  of  you  !  and  Heavens  and  honour  be  witness,  that 
no  want  of  resolution  in  me,  but  only  my  followers'  base  and 
ignominious  treason,  makes  me  betake  me  to  my  heels. 

Buck.   Wiat,  is  he  fled  ?     Go  some,  and  follow  him ; 
And  he  that  brings  his  head  unto  the  King 
Shall  have  a  thousand  crowns  for  his  reward.  — 

\_Exeunt  some  of  them. 
Follow  me,  soldiers  :  we'll  devise  a  mean 
To  reconcile  you  all  unto  the  King.  \^Excunt. 


Scene  IX. — ■  Killingworth  Castle. 

Trumpets  sounded.     Enter  King  Henry,  Queen  ALvrgaret, 
and  Somerset,  on  the  terrace  of  the  castle. 

King.   Was  ever  king  that  joy'd  an  earthly  throne. 
And  could  command  no  more  content  than  I  ? 
No  sooner  was  I  crept  out  of  my  cradle 
But  I  was  made  a  king,  at  nine  months  old : 

'  He  bids  them  spare  England,  and  go  to  France ;  and  encourages  them 
by  telling  them  that  all  is  ready  for  their  expedition ;  that  thejr  have  strengtht 
and  the  King  has  money.  —  JOHNSON. 


234  THE   SECOND    PART   OF  ACT  iv. 

Was  never  subject  long'd  to  be  a  king 
As  I  do  long  and  wish  to  be  a  subject. 

Enter  Buckingham  atid  old  Clifford. 

Buck.    Healtli  and  glad  tidings  to  your  Majesty  ! 
King.    Why,  Buckingham,  is  the  traitor  Cade  surprised  ? 
Or  is  he  but  retired  to  make  him  strong  ? 

Enter,  beloiv,  a  number  of  Cade's  Followers,  with  halters 
about  their  necks. 

O.  Clif.    He's  fled,  my  lord,  and  all  his  powers  do  yield ; 
And  humbly  thus,  with  halters  on  their  necks, 
Expect  your  Highness'  doom,  of  life  or  death. 

King.   Then,  Heaven,  set  ope  thy  everlasting  gates. 
To  entertain  my  vows  of  thanks  and  praise  !  — 
Soldiers,  this  day  have  you  redeem'd  your  lives. 
And  show'd  how  well  you  love  your  prince  and  country : 
Continue  still  in  this  so  good  a  mind, 
And  Henry,  though  he  be  infortunate, 
Assure  yourselves,  will  never  be  unkind  : 
And  so,  with  thanks  and  pardon  to  you  all, 
I  do  dismiss  you  to  your  several  countries. 

All.   God  save  the  King  !     God  save  the  King  ! 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.    Please  it  your  Grace  to  be  adv^rtis^d 
The  Duke  of  York  is  newly  come  from  Ireland ; 
And  with  a  puissant  and  mighty  power 
Of  savage  gallowglasses  and  stout  kerns  ^ 
Is  marching  hitherward  in  proud  array ; 

1  The  Galloglasse  useth  a  kind  of  pollax  for  his  weapon.  These  men 
are  grim  of  countenance,  tall  of  stature,  big  of  limme,  lusty  of  body,  wel  and 
strongly  timbered.  The  kerne  is  an  ordinary  foot-soldier,  using  for  weapon 
his  sword  and  target,  and  sometimes  his  piece,  being  commonly  good  mark- 
men. —  Stanihurst'S  Description  of  Ireland. 


SCENE  X.  KING   HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  235 

And  still  proclaimeth,  as  he  comes  along, 

His  arms  are  only  to  remove  from  thee 

The  Duke  of  Somerset,  whom  he  terms  a  traitor. 

King.   Thus  stands  my  state,  'twixt  Cade  and  York  dis- 
tress'd ; 
Like  to  a  ship  that,  having  'scaped  a  tempest. 
Is  straightway  chased  and  boarded  with  a  pirate  : 
But  now 2  is  Cade  driven  back,  his  men  dispersed ; 
And  now  is  York  in  arms  to  second  him.  — 
I  pray  thee,  Buckingham,  go  thou  and  meet  him ; 
And  ask  him  what's  the  reason  of  these  arms. 
Tell  him  I'll  send  Duke  Edmund  to  the  Tower;  — 
And,  Somerset,  we  will  commit  thee  thither. 
Until  his  army  be  dismiss'd  from  him. 

Som.    My  lord,  I'll  yield  myself  to  prison  willingly, 
Or  unto  death,  to  do  my  country  good. 

King.    In  any  case,  be  not  too  rough  in  terms  ; 
For  he  is  fierce,  and  cannot  brook  hard  language. 

Buck.    I  will,  my  lord ;  and  doubt  not  so  to  deal 
As  all  things  shall  redound  unto  your  good. 

King.    Come,  wife,  let's  in,  and  learn  to  govern  better ; 
Or  yet  may  England  curse  my  wretched  reign.         \_Exeunt. 


Scene  X.  —  Kent.     Iden's  Garden. 

Enter  Cade. 

Cade.  Fie  on  ambition  !  fie  on  myself,  that  have  a  sword, 
and  yet  am  ready  to  famish  !  These  five  days  have  I  hid 
me  in  these  woods ;  and  durst  not  peep  out,  for  all  the 
country  is  laid  for  me ;  but  now  am  I  so  hungry  that,  if  I 
might  have  a  lease  of  my  life  for  a  thousand  years,  I  could 

'  Not  the  adversative  but ;  the  sense  being /«j/  now,  or  only  now. 


236  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  IV. 

Stay  no  longer.  Wherefore,  o'er  a  brick-wall  have  I  climb'd 
into  this  garden,  to  see  if  I  can  eat  grass,  or  pick  a  sallet 
another  while,  which  is  not  amiss  to  cool  a  man's  stomach 
this  hot  weather.  And  I  think  this  word  sallet  was  born  to  do 
me  good  :  for  many  a  time,  but  for  a  sallet,  my  brain-pan  had 
been  cleft  with  a  brown  bill ;  and  many  a  time,  when  I  have 
been  dry,  and  bravely  marching,  it  hath  served  me  instead 
of  a  quart-pot  to  drink  in ;  and  now  the  word  sallet  must 
serve  me  to  feed  on.^ 

Enter  Iden,  with  Servants  behind. 

Iden.    Lord,  who  would  live  turmoiled  in  the  Court, 
And  may  enjoy  such  quiet  walks  as  these? 
This  small  inheritance,  my  father  left  me. 
Contents  me,  and  is  worth  a  monarchy. 
I  seek  not  to  wax  great  by  others'  waning ; 
Or  gather  wealth,  I  care  not  with  what  envy : 
Sufificeth,  that  I  have  maintains  my  state. 
And  sends  the  poor  well  pleased  from  my  gate. 

Cade,  \_Aside.'\  Here's  the  lord  of  the  soil  come  to  seize 
me  for  a  stray,  for  entering  his  fee-simple  without  leave.  — 
Ah,  villain,  thou  wilt  betray  me,  and  get  a  thousand  crowns 
of  the  King  by  carrying  my  head  to  him  !  but  I'll  make  thee 
eat  iron  like  an  ostrich,  and  swallow  my  sword  like  a  great 
pin,  ere  thou  and  I  part. 

Iden.    Why,  rude  companion,^  whatsoe'er  thou  be, 
I  know  thee  not ;  why,  then,  should  I  betray  thee  ? 
Is't  not  enough  to  break  into  my  garden. 
And,  like  a  thief,  to  come  to  rob  my  grounds. 
Climbing  my  walls  in  spite  of  me  the  owner. 
But  thou  wilt  brave  me  with  these  saucy  terms  ? 

1  Cade's  punning  turns  on  the  point  that  sallet  was  used  for  a  helmet  as 
well  as  for  a  preparation  of  herbs. 

2  Companion  ior  fellow ;  the  two  being  often  used  interchangeably. 


SCENE  X.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  23/ 

Cade.  Brave  thee  !  ay,  by  the  best  blood  that  ever  was 
broach'd,  and  beard  thee  too.  Look  on  me  well :  I  have 
eat  no  meat  these  five  days ;  yet,  come  thou  and  thy  five 
men,  and,  if  I  do  not  leave  you  all  as  dead  as  a  door-nai],^  I 
pray  God  I  may  never  eat  grass  more. 

Men.    Nay,  it  shall  ne'er  be  said,  while  England  stands, 
That  Alexander  Iden,  an  esquire  of  Kent, 
Took  odds  to  combat  a  poor  famish'd  man. 
Oppose  thy  steadfast-gazing  eyes  to  mine. 
See  if  thou  canst  outface  me  with  thy  looks : 
Set  limb  to  limb,  and  thou  art  far  the  lesser ; 
Thy  hand  is  but  a  finger  to  my  fist ; 
Thy  leg  a  stick  compared  with  this  truncheon  ; 
My  foot  shall  fight  with  all  the  strength  thou  hast ; 
And  if  mine  arm  be  heaved  in  the  air. 
Thy  grave  is  digg'd  already  in  the  earth. 
But  as  for  words,  whose  greatness  answers  words,* 
Let  this  my  sword  report  what  speech  forbears. 

Cade.  By  my  valour,  the  most  complete  champion  that 
ever  I  heard  !  —  Steel,  if  thou  turn  the  edge,  or  cut  not  out 
the  burly-boned  clown  in  chines  of  beef  ere  thou  sleep  in 
thy  sheath,  I  beseech  God,  on  my  knees,  thou  mayst  be 
turn'd  to  hobnails.  \^T}iey  fight.  Q.kg^  falls  ^  0,1  am  slain! 
famine  and  no  other  hath  slain  me  :  let  ten  thousand  devils 
come  against  me,  and  give  me  but  the  ten  meals  I  have  lost, 
and  I'd  defy  them  all.  Wither,  garden  ;  and  be  henceforth 
a  burying-place  to  all  that  do  dwell  in  this  house,  because 
the  unconquered  soul  of  Cade  is  fled. 

Iden.    Is't  Cade  that  I  have  slain,  that  monstrous  traitor? 
Sword,  I  will  hallow  thee  for  this  thy  deed, 

'  "  As  dead  as  a  door-nail  "  is  an  old  phrase  still  used  in  New  EJigland. 
The  nail  of  a  door  was  the  head  on  which  the  knocker  was  struck,  and  so 
was  subject  to  frequent  and  hard  pounding. 

*  Johnson  explains  this,  "  As  for  words,  whose  pomp  may  answer  wordSi 
and  only  words,  I  shall  forbear  them,  and  refer  the  rest  to  my  sword." 


238  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  V. 

And  hang  ^  thee  o'er  my  tomb  when  I  am  dead : 
Ne'er  shall  this  blood  be  wiped  from  thy  point ; 
But  thou  shalt  wear  it  as  a  herald's  coat, 
T'  emblaze  the  honour  that  thy  master  got. 

Cade.  Iden,  farewell ;  and  be  proud  of  thy  victory.  Tell 
Kent  from  me,  she  hath  lost  her  best  man ;  and  exhort  all 
the  world  to  be  cowards ;  for  I,  that  never  feared  any,  am 
vanquished  by  famine,  not  by  valour.  \_Dies. 

Iden.    How  much   thou   wrong'st   me,^    Heaven   be    my 
judge. 
Die,  damned  wretch,  the  curse  of  her  that  bare  thee  ! 
And  as  I  thrust  thy  body  with  my  sword. 
So  wish  I,  I  might  thrust  thy  soul  to  Hell. 
Hence  will  I  drag  thee  headlong  by  the  heels 
Unto  a  dunghill,  which  shall  be  thy  grave, 
And  there  cut  off  thy  most  ungracious  head ; 
Which  I  will  bear  in  triumph  to  the  King, 
Leaving  thy  trunk  for  crows  to  feed  upon. 

\_Exeunt,  Iden  dragging  out  the  body,  and  Servants. 


ACT  V. 

Scene  I.  —  Fields  between  Dartford  and  Blackheath. 

The  King's  camp  on  one  side.  On  the  other,  enter  York 
attended,  with  drum  and  colours ;  his  Forces  at  some 
distance. 

York.    From  Ireland  thus  comes  York  to  claim  his  right, 
And  pluck  the  crown  from  feeble  Henry's  head  : 

5  Hang  is  here  used  as  a  causative  verb ;  the  sense  being,  "  I  will  have 
thee  hung,"  or,  "  I  will  cause  thee  to  be  hung." 

6  Iden's  meaning  probably  is,  that  Cade  wrongs  him  by  underrating  his 
prowess. 


SCENE  I.  KING   HENRY   THE   SIXTH.  239 

Ring,  bells,  aloud ;  bum,  bonfires,  clear  and  bright ; 

To  entertain  great  England's  lawfiil  King. 

Ah,  sancta  majestas  I  who  would  not  buy  thee  dear? 

Let  them  obey  that  know  not  how  to  rule ; 

This  hand  was  made  to  handle  nought  but  gold : 

I  cannot  give  due  action  to  my  words. 

Except  a  sword  or  sceptre  balance  it :  ^ 

A  sceptre  shall  it  have,  —  have  I  a  soul,  — 

On  which  I'll  toss  the  flower-de-luce  of  France.  — 

Enter  Buckingham. 

\_Aside^    Whom  have  we  here  ?    Buckingham,  to  disturb  me  ? 
The  King  hath  sent  him,  sure  :  I  must  dissemble. 

Buck.   York,  if  thou  meanest  well,  I  greet  thee  well. 

York.    Humphrey  of  Buckingham,  I  accept  thy  greeting. 
Art  thou  a  messenger,  or  come  of  pleasure  ? 

Buck.   A  messenger  from  Henrj',  our  dread  liege, 
To  know  the  reason  of  these  arms  in  peace ; 
Or  why  thou,  being  a  subject  as  I  am, 
Against  thy  oath  and  true  allegiance  sworn, 
Shouldst  raise  so  great  a  power  without  his  leave. 
Or  dare  to  bring  thy  force  so  near  the  Court. 

York.    \_Aside.'\    Scarce  can  I  speak,  my  choler  is  so  great ! 
O,  I  could  hew  up  rocks,  and  fight  with  flint, 
I  am  so  angry  at  these  abject  terms  ; 
And  now,  like  Ajax  Telamonius, 
On  sheep  or  oxen  could  I  spend  my  fiiry ! 
I  am  far  better  bom  than  is  the  King ; 
More  like  a  king,  more  kingly  in  my  thoughts  : 
But  I  must  make  fair  weather  yet  awhile, 
Till  Henry  be  more  weak,  and  I  more  strong.  — 
O  Buckingham,  I  pr'ythee,  pardon  me, 

1  Probably  his  hand  is  the  thing  that  requires  to  be  thus  balanced. 


240  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACI 

That  I  have  given  no  answer  all  this  while ; 
My  mind  was  troubled  with  deep  melancholy. 
The  cause  why  I  have  brought  this  army  hither 
Is,  to  remove  proud  Somerset  from  the  King, 
Seditious  to  his  Grace  and  to  the  State. 

Buck.   That  is  too  much  presumption  on  thy  part : 
But,  if  thy  arms  be  to  no  other  end. 
The  King  hath  yielded  unto  thy  demand ; 
The  Duke  of  Somerset  is  in  the  Tower. 

York.   Upon  thine  honour,  is  he  prisoner? 

Buck.    Upon  mine  honour,  he  is  prisoner. 

York.   Then,  Buckingham,  I  do  dismiss  my  powers.  — 
Soldiers,  I  thank  you  all ;  disperse  yourselves  ; 
Meet  me  to-morrow  in  Saint  George's  field. 
You  shall  have  pay  and  every  thing  you  wish.  — 
And  let  my  sovereign,  virtuous  Henry, 
Command  my  eldest  son,  nay,  all  my  sons, 
As  pledges  of  my  fealty  and  love  ; 
I'll  send  them  all  as  willing  as  I  live  : 
Lands,  goods,  horse,  armour,  any  thing  I  have, 
Is  his  to  use,  so  Somerset  may  die. 

Buck.   York,  I  commend  this  kind  submission : 
We  twain  will  go  into  his  Highness'  tent. 

Enter  King  Henry,  attended. 

King.    Buckingham,  doth  York  intend  no  harm  to  us, 
That  thus  he  marcheth  with  thee  arm  in  arm  ? 

York.    In  all  submission  and  humility 
York  doth  present  himself  unto  your  Highness. 

King.   Then  what  intend  these  forces  thou  dost  bring? 

York.   To  heave  the  traitor  Somerset  from  hence  ; 
And  fight  against  that  monstrous  rebel  Cade, 
Who,  since,  I  heard  to  be  discomfited. 


SCENE  I.  KIXG    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  24I 

Enter  Iden,  with  Cade's  head. 

Iden.   If  one  so  rude  and  of  so  mean  condition 
May  pass  into  the  presence  of  a  king, 
Lo,  I  present  your  Grace  a  traitor's  head. 
The  head  of  Cade,  whom  I  in  combat  slew. 

King.   The  head  of  Cade  !  —  Great  God,  how  just  art 
Thou!  — 
O,  let  me  view  his  \Tsage,  being  dead. 
That  liWng  wrought  me  such  exceeding  trouble.  — 
Tell  me,  my  friend,  art  thou  the  man  that  slew  him  ? 

Iden.    I  am,  an't  like  your  Majesty. 

King.    How  art  thou  call'd  ?  and  what  is  thy  degree  ? 

Iden.    Alexander  Iden,  that's  my  name  ; 
A  poor  esquire  of  Kent,  that  loves  his  King. 

Buck.    So  please  it  you,  my  lord,  't\vere  not  amiss 
He  were  created  knight  for  his  good  service. 

King.    Iden,  kneel  down.     \_He  kneels^     Iden,  rise  up  a 
knight.  \He  rises. 

We  give  thee  for  reward  a  thousand  marks  ; 
And  will  that  thou  henceforth  attend  on  us. 

Iden.    May  Iden  live  to  merit  such  a  bounty, 
And  never  live  but  true  unto  his  liege  ! 

King.    See,  Buckingham  I  Somerset  comes  with  the  Queen : 
Go,  bid  her  hide  him  quickly  from  the  duke. 

Enter  Queen  Margarett  and  Somerset. 

Queen.    For  thousand  Yorks  he  shall  not  hide  his  head, 
But  boldly  stand,  and  front  him  to  his  face. 

York.    How  now  !  is  Somerset  at  liberty  ? 
Then,  York,  unloose  thy  long-imprison'd  thoughts. 
And  let  thy  tongue  be  equal  wnth  thy  heart. 
Shall  I  endure  the  sight  of  Somerset  ?  — 
False  King  !  why  hast  thou  broken  faith  with  me. 


242  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  V 

Knowing  how  hardly  I  can  brook  abuse  ? 

King  did  I  call  thee  ?  no,  thou  art  no  king ; 

Not  fit  to  rule  and  govern  multitudes, 

Which  darest  not,  no,  nor  canst  not  rule  a  traitor. 

That  head  of  thine  doth  not  become  a  crown ; 

Thy  hand  is  made  to  grasp  a  palmer's  staff. 

And  not  to  grace  an  awful  princely  sceptre. 

That  gold  must  round  engirt  these  brows  of  mine ; 

Whose  smile  and  frown,  like  to  Achilles'  spear, 

Is  able  with  the  change  to  kill  and  cure. 

Here  is  a  hand  to  hold  a  sceptre  up. 

And  with  the  same  to  act  controlling  laws. 

Give  place  :  by  Heaven,  thou  shalt  rule  no  more 

O'er  him  whom  Heaven  created  for  thy  ruler. 

So 7)1.    O  monstrous  traitor  !  —  I  arrest  thee,  York, 
Of  capital  treason  'gainst  the  King  and  crown  : 
Obey,  audacious  traitor ;  kneel  for  grace. 

York.    Wouldst  have  me  kneel  ?  first  let  me  ask  of  these,^ 
If  they  can  brook  I  bow  a  knee  to  man.  — 
Sirrah,  call  in  my  sons  to  be  my  bail :      \_Exit  an  Attendant. 
I  know,  ere  they  will  have  me  go  to  ward, 
They'll  pawn  their  swords  for  my  enfranchisement. 

Queen.    Call  hither  Clifford  ;  bid  him  come  amain. 
To  say  if  that  the  bastard  boys  of  York 
Shall  be  the  surety  for  their  traitor  father.  \_Exit  Bucking. 

York.   O  blood-bespotted  Neapolitan, 
Outcast  of  Naples,  England's  bloody  scourge  ! 
The  sons  of  York,  thy  betters  in  their  birth. 
Shall  be  their  father's  bail ;  and  bane  to  those 
That  for  my  surety  will  refuse  the  boys  ! 
See  where  they  come  :  I'll  warrant  they'll  make  it  good. 

Queen.    And  here  comes  Clifford  to  deny  their  bail. 

2  By  these  York  probably  means  his  troops,  to  whom  he  maybe  supposed 
to  point.    It  may  be,  however,  that  he  means  his  sons,  who  are  in  sight. 


SCENE  I.  KING   HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  243 

Enter,  on  one  side,  Edward  and  Richard  Plantagenei',^ 
with  Forces ;  on  the  other,  old  Cufford  and  his  Son, 
with  Forces  also. 

O.  Clif.    Health  and  all  happiness  to  my  lord  the  King  ! 

\_Kneels. 

York.    I  thank  thee  Clifford  :  say,  what  news  with  thee  ? 
Nay,  do  not  fright  us  with  an  angry  look : 
We  are  thy  sovereign,  Clifford,  kneel  again  ; 
For  thy  mistaking  so,  we  pardon  thee. 

O.  Clif.   This  is  my  King,  York,  I  do  not  mistake  ; 
But  thou  mistakest  me  much  to  think  I  do :  — 
To  Bedlam  ^  with  him  !  is  the  man  grown  mad  ? 

King.    Ay,  Clifford ;  a  bedlam  and  ambitious  humour 
Makes  him  oppose  himself  against  his  King. 

O.  Clif.    He  is  a  traitor ;  let  him  to  the  Tower, 
And  chop  away  that  factious  pate  of  his. 

Queen.    He  is  arrested,  but  will  not  obey ; 
His  sons,  he  says,  shall  give  their  words  for  him. 

York.   Will  you  not,  sons  ? 

Edw.   Ay,  noble  father,  if  our  words  will  serve. 

Rich.   And  if  words  will  not,  then  our  weapons  shall. 

O.  Clif.    Why,  what  a  brood  of  traitors  have  we  here  ! 

York.    Look  in  a  glass,  and  call  thy  image  so  : 
I  am  thy  king,  and  thou  a  false-heart  traitor.  — 
Call  hither  to  the  stake  my  two  brave  bears. 
That  with  the  very  shaking  of  their  chains 

3  The  author  here  anticipates  by  many  years.  At  this  time,  1455,  Ed- 
ward, York's  oldest  son  was  not  more  than  fifteen  years  old ;  and,  as  there 
were  two  others,  Edmund  and  George,  between  him  and  Richard,  of  course 
the  latter  could  have  had  no  part  in  these  transactions.  A  similar  anticipa- 
tion touching  Prince  Henry  occurs  near  the  close  of  King  Richard  II. 

*  This  "  hospitall  for  distracted  people  "  was  founded,  according  to  Stowe, 
by  Simon  Fitz-Mary,  one  of  the  sheriffs  of  London,  in  the  year  1246.  It  was 
called  "  The  Hospital  of  St.  Mary  of  BethUhem  "  ;  which  latter  name  was 
corrupted  into  Bedlam. 


244  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  V. 

They  may  astonish  these  fell-lurching^  curs  ; 

Bid  Salisbury  and  Warwick  come  to  me.  \_Exit  an  Attendant. 

Enter  Warwick  and  Salisbury,  with  Forces. 

O.  Clif.   Are  these  thy  bears  ?  we'll  bait  thy  bears  to  death, 
And  manacle  the  bear-ward  in  their  chains. 
If  thou  darest  bring  them  to  the  baiting-place. 

Rich.    Oft  have  I  seen  a  hot  o'erweening  cur 
Run  back  and  bite,  because  he  was  withheld ; 
Who,  being  suffer'd  ^  with  the  bear's  fell  paw, 
Hath  clapp'd  his  tail  between  his  legs  and  cried  : 
And  such  a  piece  of  service  will  you  do, 
If  you  oppose  yourselves  to  match  Lord  Warwick. 

O.  Clif.    Hence,  heap  of  wrath,  foul  indigested  lump. 
As  crooked  in  thy  manners  as  thy  shape  ! 

York.    Nay,  we  shall  heat  you  thoroughly  anon. 

O.  Clif.   Take  heed,  lest  by  your  heat  you  burn  yourselves. 

King.   Why,  Warwick,  hath  thy  knee  forgot  to  bow? — 
Old  Salisbury, — shame  to  thy  silver  hair, 
Thou  mad  misleader  of  thy  brain-sick  son  !  — 
What,  wilt  thou  on  thy  death-bed  play  the  ruffian, 
And  seek  for  sorrow  with  thy  spectacles  ?  — 
O,  where  is  faith ?     O,  where  is  loyalty? 
If  it  be  banish'd  from  the  frosty  head, 

5  Lurch,  both  noun  and  verb,  was  used  in  the  sense  of  seizure,  robbery, 
or  carrying  off  with  a  high  hand.  See  foot-note  on  "  He  lurch'd  all  swords 
o'  the  garland,"  in  Coriolanus,  ii.  2. 

6  Being  suffer  d  is  used  in  opposition  to  withheld,  and  in  the  sense  of 
being  allowed,  that  is,  allowed  to  cope  with  the  bear.  So  in  iii.  2,  of  tliis 
play  :  "  Lest,  being  suffer'd  in  that  harmful  slumber,  the  mortal  worm  might 
make  the  sleep  eternal."  —  Perhaps  the  passage  in  the  text  intends  an  allu- 
sion to  the  crest  of  the  Nevilles,  Earls  of  Warwick,  which  was  a  bear  and  a 
ragged  staff.  —  It  may  be  well  to  add,  that  the  cruel  sport  of  bear-baiting 
was  kept  up  in  England  till  the  Puritans  made  decisive  war  upon  it ;  though 
Macaulay  says  they  did  this,  not  because  the  sport  gave  pain  to  the  bears, 
but  because  it  gave  pleasure  to  the  spectators. 


SCENE  I.  KING    HENRY   THE    SIXTH.  245 

Where  shall  it  find  a  harbour  in  the  Earth?  — 
Wilt  thou  go  dig  a  grave  to  find  out  war,' 
And  stain  thine  honourable  age  with  blood? 
Why  art  thou  old,  and  want'st  experience  ? 
Or  wherefore  dost  abuse  it,  if  thou  hast  it  ? 
For  shame  !  in  duty  bend  thy  knee  to  me. 
That  bows  unto  the  grave  with  mickle  age. 

Sa/.    My  lord,  I  have  consider'd  with  myself 
The  title  of  this  most  renowned  duke ; 
And  in  my  conscience  do  repute  his  Grace 
The  rightful  heir  to  England's  royal  seat. 

J^ing.    Hast  thou  not  sworn  allegiance  unto  me  ? 

Sa/.    I  have. 

A^ing.    Canst  thou  dispense  with  Heaven  for  such  an  oath  ? 

Sa/.    It  is  great  sin  to  swear  unto  a  sin  ; 
But  greater  sin  to  keep  a  sinful  oath. 
Who  can  be  boimd  by  any  solemn  vow 
To  do  a  murderous  deed,  to  rob  a  man, 
To  force  a  spotless  virgin's  chastity. 
To  reave  the  orphan  of  his  patrimony. 
To  wring  the  widow  from  her  custom'd  right ; 
And  have  no  other  reason  for  this  wrong. 
But  that  he  was  bound  by  a  solemn  oath  ? 

Queen.   A  subtle  traitor  needs  no  sophister. 

King.   Call  Buckingham,  and  bid  him  arm  himself. 

York.   Call  Buckingham,  and  all  the  friends  thou  hast, 
I  am  resolved  for  death  or  dignity. 

O.  C/if.   The  first  I  warrant  thee,  if  dreams  prove  true. 
War.   You  were  best  go  to  bed  and  dream  again, 

"  Heath  explains  this,  "  Art  thou  so  enamoured  of  war,  that  thou  wilt  even 
go  and  dig  thy  own  grave  to  find  it  out?  "  But  I  suspect  that  to  find  is  an 
instance  of  the  infinitive  used  gerundively.  If  so,  the  meaning  is,  "  Wilt 
thou  go  and  dig  a  grave  for  thyself  by  finding  out  war?  "  See  vol.  vi.  page 
181,  note  7. 


246  THE    SFXOND    PART    OF  ACT  V 

To  keep  thee  from  the  tempest  of  the  field. 

O.  Clif.    I  am  resolved  to  bear  a  greater  storm 
Than  any  thou  canst  conjure  up  to-day  ; 
And  that  I'll  write  upon  thy  burgonet,** 
Might  I  but  know  thee  by  thy  household  badge. 

War.    Now,  by  my  father's  badge,  old  Neville's  crest. 
The  rampant  bear  chain 'd  to  the  ragged  staff, 
This  day  I'll  wear  aloft  rny  burgonet,  — 
As  on  a  mountain-top  the  cedar  shows, 
That  keeps  his  leaves  in  spite  of  any  storm,  — 
Even  to  affright  thee  with  the  view  thereof. 

O.  Clif.    And  from  thy  burgonet  I'll  rend  thy  bear. 
And  tread  it  under  foot  with  all  contempt. 
Despite  the  bear-ward  that  protects  the  bear. 

Y.  Clif.    And  so  to  arms  !  victorious  father, 
To  quell  the  rebels  and  their  complices. 

Rich.    Fie  !  charity,  for  shame  !  speak  not  in  spite, 
For  you  shall  sup  with  Jesu  Christ  to-night. 

Y.  Clif.    Foul  stigmatic,"-^  that's  more  than  thou  canst  tell. 

Rich.   If  not  in  Heaven,  you'll  surely  sup  in  Hell. 

\_Exeiint  severally. 

Scene  II.  —  Saint  Allan's. 

Alarums  :  excursions.     Enter  Warwick. 

War.    Clifford  of  Cumberland,  'tis  Warwick  calls  ! 
An  if  thou  dost  not  hide  thee  from  the  bear, 
Now,  —  when  the  angry  trumpet  sounds  alarum, 
And  dead  men's  cries  do  fill  the  empty  air,  — 
Clifford,  I  say,  come  forth  and  fight  with  me  ! 

8  A  burgonet  is  a  helmet ;  a  Burgundian's  steel  cap  or  casque. 

s  One  on  whom  Nature  has  set  a  mark  of  deformity,  a  stigma.  It  was 
originally  and  properly  "  a  person  who  had  been  branded  with  a  hot  iron 
for  some  crime ;  one  notably  defamed  for  naughtiness." 


SCENE  n.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  247 

Proud  northern  lord,  Clifford  of  Cumberland, 
Warwick  is  hoarse  with  calling  thee  to  arms.  — 

Enter  York. 

How  now,  my  noble  lord  !  what,  all  a-foot  ? 

York.  The  deadly-handed  Clifford  slew  my  steed ; 
But  match  to  match  I  have  encounter'd  him. 
And  made  a  prey  for  carrion  kites  and  crows 
Even  of  the  bonny  beast  he  loved  so  well. 

Enter  old  Clifford. 

War.    Of  one  or  both  of  us  the  time  is  come. 

York.   Hold,  Warwick,  seek  thee  out  some  other  chase. 
For  I  myself  must  hunt  this  deer  to  death. 

War.   Then,  nobly,  York  ;  'tis  for  a  crown  thou  fight'st.  — 
As  I  intend,  Clifford,  to  thrive  to-day, 
It  grieves  my  soul  to  leave  thee  unassail'd.  \Exit 

O.   Clif.   What  see'st  thou  in  me,  York?  why  dost  thou 
pause? 

York.  With  thy  brave  bearing  should  I  be  in  love. 
But  that  thou  art  so  fast  mine  enemy. 

O.  Clif.   Nor  should  thy  prowess  want  praise  and  esteem, 
But  that  'tis  shown  ignobly  and  in  treason. 

York.   So  let  it  help  me  now  against  thy  sword. 
As  I  in  justice  and  true  right  express  it ! 

O.  Clif.   My  soul  and  body  on  the  action  both  ! 

York.   A  dreadful  lay  !i — address  thee  instantly. 

O.  Clif.    La  fin  couronne  les  ceuvres. 

\_They  fight,  and  Cuffokd  falli  and  dies. 

York.   Thus  war  hath  given  thee  peace,  for  thou  art  still. 
Peace  with  his  soul,  Heaven,  if  it  be  thy  will !  lExit. 

'  It  scarce  need  be  said  that  toy  here  is  zoa^er  or  siaJte. 


248  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  V. 

Enter  young  Cufford. 

Y.  Clif.    Shame  and  confusion  !  all  is  on  the  rout ; 
Fear  frames  disorder,  and  disorder  wounds 
Where  it  should  guard.  —  O  war,  thou  son  of  Hell, 
Whom  angry  Heavens  do  make  their  minister, 
Throw  in  the  frozen  bosoms  of  our  part 
Hot  coals  of  vengeance  !  —  Let  no  soldier  fly  : 
He  that  is  truly  dedicate  to  war 
Hath  no  self-love  ;  nor  he  that  loves  himself 
Hath  not  essentially,  but  by  circumstance. 
The  name  of  valour.  —  \Seei71g  his  father's  body, 

O,  let  the  vile  world  end. 
And  the  premised  flames  -  of  the  last  day 
Knit  Earth  and  Heaven  together  ! 
Now  let  the  general  trumpet  blow  his  blast, 
Particularities  and  petty  sounds 
To  cease  !^  —  Wast  thou  ordain'd,  dear  father, 
To  lose  thy  youth  in  peace,  and  to  achieve 
The  silver  livery  of  advised'*  age, 
And,  in  thy  reverence  and  thy  chair-days,  thus 
To  die  in  rufiian  batde? — Even  at  this  sight 
My  heart  is  turn'd  to  stone  ;  and,  while  'tis  mine, 
It  shall  be  stony.     York  not  our  old  men  spares ; 
No  more  will  I  their  babes  :  tears  virginal 
Shall  be  to  me  even  as  the  dew  to  fire ; 
And  beauty,  that  the  tyrant  oft  reclaims. 
Shall  to  my  flaming  wrath  be  oil  and  flax. 

2  "  Premised  flames  "  are  flames  sent  before  their  time.  "  Let  the  flames 
reserved  for  the  last  day  be  sent  now." 

3  To  cease  was  sometimes  used  transitively  for  to  stop,  or  to  cause  to  cease. 
So  in  Timon  of  Athens,  ii.  i :  "Be  not  ceased  ^'\^  slight  denial." — Achieve, 
in  the  next  line,  has  the  sense  of  reach,  or  arrive  at. 

■*  Advised,  again,  in  the  sense  of  thoughtful,  cofisiderate.  See  page  175, 
note  6. 


SCENE  II.  KING    HENRY   THE    SIXTH.  249 

Henceforth  I  will  not  have  to  do  with  pity : 
Meet  I  an  infant  of  the  House  of  York, 
Into  as  many  gobbets  will  I  cut  it, 
As  wild  Medea  young  AbsjTtus  did  :  * 
In  cruelty  will  I  seek  out  my  fame.  — 
Come,  thou  new  ruin  of  old  Clifford's  House  : 

\_Taking  up  the  body. 
As  did  ^neas  old  Anchises  bear, 
So  bear  I  thee  upon  my  manly  shoulders ; 
But  then  yEneas  bare  a  hving  load. 
Nothing  so  heavy  as  these  woes  of  mine.  \_Exit. 

Enter  Richard  Plantagenet  and  Somerset  fighting,  and 
Somerset  is  killed. 

Rich.    So,  lie  thou  there  ;  — 
For  underneath  an  alehouse'  paltry  sign. 
The  Castle  in  Saint  Alban's,  Somerset 
Hath  made  the  wizard  famous  in  his  death.® — 
Sword,  hold  thy  temper ;  heart,  be  wTathful  still : 
Priests  pray  for  enemies,  but  princes  kill.  \^Exit. 

Alarums :  excursions.     Enter  King  Hexry,  Queen  Mar- 
garet, and  others,  retreating. 

Queen.   Away,  my  lord  !  you're  slow ;  for  shame,  away  ! 

5  When  Medea  fled  with  Jason  from  Colchos,  she  murdered  her  brother 
Absyrtus,  and  cut  his  body  into  several  pieces,  that  her  father  might  be  pre- 
vented for  some  time  from  pursuing  her. 

6  Referring  to  the  prediction  of  the  Spirit  in  i.  4 :  "  Let  him  shun  castles ; 
safer  shall  he  be  upon  the  sandy  plains  than  where  castles  mounted  stand  " ; 
which  turns  out  to  have  meant  the  picture  of  a  castle  set  up  or  mounted  for 
a  sign.  —  This  Duke  of  Somerset  was  Edmund  Beaufort,  brother  to  John, 
the  Somerset  of  the  preceding  play,  and  succeeded  to  the  title  at  his  death 
in  1432.  He  was  the  King's  nearest  surviving  relative,  being  grandson  to 
John  of  Ghent,  and,  after  the  fall  of  Suffolk,  was  looked  to  and  trusted  by 
his  royal  kinsman  as  a  counterpoise  to  the  ambition  of  York.  He  left  three 
sons,  Henr>-,  Edmund,  and  John,  who,  says  the  chronicler,  "  to  the  extreni- 
itie  of  death  tooke  part  with  the  line  of  King  Henrie," 


250  THE    SECOND    PART    OF  ACT  V. 

King.   Can  we  outrun  the  Heavens  ?  good  Margaret,  stay. 

Queen.   What  are  you  made  of?  you'll  nor  fight  nor  fly  : 
Now  is  it  manhood,  wisdom,  and  defence, 
To  give  the  enemy  way ;  and  to  secure  us 
By  what  we  can,  which  can  no  more  but  fly. 

\_AIarum  afar  off. 
If  you  be  ta'en,  we  then  should  see  the  bottom 
Of  all  our  fortunes  :  but  if  we  haply  'scape,  — 
As  well  we  may,  if  not  through  your  neglect,  — 
We  shall  to  London  get ;  where  you  are  loved  ; 
And  where  this  breach,  now  in  our  fortunes  made. 
May  readily  be  stopp'd. 

Re-enter  young  Clifford. 

Y.  Clif.    But  that  my  heart's  on  future  mischief  set, 
I  would  speak  blasphemy  ere  bid  you  fly  : 
But  fly  you  must ;  uncurable  discomfit 
Reigns  in  the  hearts  of  all  our  present  part.'' 
Away,  for  your  relief !  and  we  will  live 
To  see  their  day,  and  them  our  fortune  give : 
Away,  my  lord,  away  !  \Exeunt. 


Scene  III. — Fields  near  Saint  Alban's. 

Alarums:  retreat.  Flourish;  then  enter  York,  Richard 
Plantagenet,  Warwick,  and  Soldiers,  with  drutn  and 
colours. 

York.    Old  Salisbury,  who  can  report  of  him,  — • 
That  winter  lion,  who  in  rage  forgets 
Aged  contusions  and  all  bruise  of  time, 

"^  Part  lor  f  arty ;  the  two  being  often  used  interchangeably.  So  before 
in  this  scene  :  "  Throw  in  the  frozen  bosoms  of  our  part  hot  coals  of  ven- 
geance ! " 


SCENE  III.  KING    HENRY    THE    SIXTH.  2$  I 

And,  like  a  gallant  in  the  bloom  of  youth, 
Repairs  him  with  occasion  ?     This  happy  day 
Is  not  itself,  nor  have  we  won  one  foot. 
If  Salisbury  be  lost. 

Rich.  My  noble  father, 

Three  times  to-day  I  holp  him  to  his  horse, 
Three  times  bestrid  him,^  thrice  I  led  him  off. 
Persuaded  him  from  any  further  act : 
But  still,  where  danger  was,  still  there  I  met  him ; 
.And  like  rich  hangings  in  a  homely  house. 
So  was  his  will  in  his  old  feeble  body. 
But,  noble  as  he  is,  look  where  he  comes. 

Enter  Sausbury. 

Sal.   Now,  by  my  sword,  well  hast  thou  fought  to-day ; 
By  th'  Mass,  so  did  we  all.  —  I  thank  you,  Richard  : 
God  knows  how  long  it  is  I  have  to  live  ; 
And  it  hath  pleased  Him  that  three  times  to-day 
You  have  defended  me  from  imminent  death. — 
Well,  lords,  we  have  not  got  that  which  we  have  :  ^ 
'Tis  not  enough  our  foes  are  this  time  fled. 
Being  opposites  of  such  repairing  nature.^ 

York.   I  know  our  safety  is  to  follow  them ; 
For,  as  I  hear,  the  King  is  fled  to  London, 
To  call  a  present  court  of  Parliament. 
Let  us  pursue  him,  ere  the  writs  go  forth  :  — 
What  says  Lord  Warwick  ?  shall  we  after  them  ? 

1  That  is,  "  three  times  I  saw  him  fallen,  and  striding  over  him  defended 
him  till  he  recovered."  Tliis  act  of  friendship  Shakespeare  has  frequently 
mentioned.    See  vol.  i.  page  140,  note  13. 

2  Meaning,  we  have  not  secured  that  which  we  have  lioon. 

8  Being  enemies  that  are  likely  so  soon  to  rally  and  recover  themselves 
from  this  defeat.  To  repair,  in  old  language,  is  to  renovate,  to  restore  to. 
a  former  condition. 


252  KING    HENRY    VI.       PART    SECOND.  ACT  V. 

War.  After  them  !  nay,  before  them,  if  we  can. 
Now,  by  my  faith,  lords,  'twas  a  glorious  day  : 
Saint  Alban's  battle,  won  by  famous  York, 
Shall  be  eternized  in  all  age  to  come. — 
Sound  drums  and  trumpets  ;  —  and  to  London  all : 
And  more  such  days  as  this  to  us  befall !  [^Exeunt. 


CRITICAL    NOTES. 


Act  I.,  Scene  i. 

Page  134.  /did  perform  my  task,  and  was  espoused.  —  The  folio 
reads  "  I  have  perform' d  ray  Taske."  The  quarto  reading  is  clearl/  to 
oe  preferred,  as  there  ought  to  be  no  change  of  tense  in  the  line. 

P.  136.  They  please  us  well.  —  Lord  marquess,  kneel  thee  down.  — 
So  Collier's  second  folio.  The  old  text  lacks  thee.  Pope  printed 
"  kneel  you  down." 

P.  137.    And  wzs  his  Highness  in  his  infancy 

Crownid  in  Paris  in  despite  of  foes  ?  —  The  old  text  reads 
"  And  hath  his  Highnesse,"  &c.     Corrected  by  Rowe. 

P.  140.  Thou  or  I,  Somerset,  will  be  protector.  — The  old  text  reads 
"Or  thou,  or  I  Somerset  will  be  Protectors?'     Capell's  correction. 

P.  141.   And,  as  we  may,  cherish  Duke  Humphrey s  deeds. 

While  they  do  tend  to  profit  of  the  land.  —  So  Capell.     The  old 
text  has  "  tend  the  profit." 

P.  141.  'Tis  mine  they  give  away,  and  not  their  own.  —  Instead  of 
mine,  the  old  text  has  thine.     The  correction  is  White's. 

P.  142.    Whileas  the  silly  owner  of  the  goods 

Weeps  over  them,  and  wrings  his  helpless  handsy 
And  shakes  his  head,  and  trembling  stands  aloof. 
Ready  to  starve,  and  dare  not  touch  his  awn. 
While  all  is  shared,  and  all  is  borne  away.  —  The  old  text 
transposes  the  last  two  of  these  lines :  in  the  second  line  also,  it  has 
haplesse  instead  of  helpless,  which  is  from  Collier's  second  folio. 


254  KING    HENRY    VI.       PART    SECOND. 

P.  143.    Till,  Henry  surfeiting  in  joys  of  love. 

With  his  new  bride  and  England'' s  dear-bought  Queen, 
Duke  Humphrey  with  the  peers  be  faWn  at  jars.  — The  old  text 
has  ^'And  Humfrey  with  the  Peeres,"  &c.  This  leaves  the  sentence 
in  utter  unhingement,  insomuch  that  some  hiVj  thought  a  line  must 
have  been  lost  between  the  second  and  third.  Be  this  as  it  may,  there 
is  no  way  to  cure  the  defect  but  either  by  getting  rid  of  And  or  by 
changing  surfeiting  to  surfeiteth.  The  former  mode  gives  the  more 
fitting  sense. 

Act  I.,  Scene  2, 

P.  144.   And  in  that  chair  where  kings  and  queens  are  crown' d ; 

There  Henry  and  Dame  Margaret  kneePd  to  me.  —  The  old 
text  has  wer  instead  of  are  in  the  first  of  these  lines,  and  Where  instead 
of  There  in  the  second.     Staunton's  correction. 

P.  145.    Come,  Nell;    thou'' It  ride  ivith  us,  I'm  sure. — The  words 
/';«  sure  are  from  the  quarto. 

P.  147.    Yet  am  I  Suffolk's  and  the  CardinaVs  broker.  —  The  old 
text  has  Suffolk  instead  of  Suffolk's. 

Act  I.,  Scene  3. 

P.  148.   For  my  Lord  Protector  I  —  So  Capell.     The  old  text  has  To 
instead  of  For.    The  context  prompts,  and  indeed  requires  the  change. 

P.  148.    That  my  master  was?  no  forsooth  :  my  master  said  that  he 
was.  —  The  old  text  reads  "  That  my  Mistresse  was  ?  " 

P.  149.    Besides  the  haught  Protector. —  So  the  second  folio.     The 
first  has  "  the  haughtie  Protector." 

P.  150.    And  placed  a  quire  of  such  enticing  birds. 

That  she  will  light  to  listen  to  their  lays.  —  The  folio  has  "  listen 
to  the  lays."     Corrected  by  Rowe. 

P.  152.    She^s  tickled  noi.0  ;  her  fury  needs  no  spurs, 

She^ II  gallop  fast  enough  to  her  destruction.  —  In  the*  first  of 
these  lines  the  old  text  has  Ftime  instead  ol  fury.  Corrected  by  Dyce 
and  Walker.  Also,  in  the  second,  ^ar^^  instead  oi  fast.  Corrected  by 
Pope. 


CRITICAL   NOTES.  255 

P.  153.  My  Lord  of  Somerset  will  keep  me  ^tXQ 

Witliout  discharge,  money,  or  furniture.  —  So  Collier's  second 
folio.  The  old  text  has  "  keepe  me  here.'''  The  meaning  is,  appar- 
ently, not  that  Somerset  will  keep  York  in  England,  but  will  keep  him 
without  supplies  in  France,  so  that  he  will  not  be  able  to  accomplish 
any  thing  there. 

P.  154.    This  is  my  doom,  my  lord,  if  I  may  judge.  —  The  words  is 
my  are  from  the  quarto. 

P.  155.   King.    Then  be  it  so.  —  My  Lord  of  Somerset, 

We  make  your  Grace  our  regent  o'er  the  French.  —  This  speech 
is  wanting  in  the  folio,  and  was  introduced  by  Theobald  from  the 
quarto ;  where,  however,  the  last  line  reads  "  We  make  your  Grace 
regent  or'er  the  French."  The  lines  are  fairly  necessary  to  the  course 
of  the  dialogue  ;  because,  as  Theobald  remarks,  "  without  them,  the 
King  has  not  declared  his  assent  to  Gloucester's  opinion;  and  the 
Duke  of  Somerset  is  made  to  thank  him  for  the  regency  before  the 
King  has  deputed  him  to  it" 

Act  I.,  Scene  4. 

P.  157.    Descend  to  darkness  and  the  burning  lake  ! 

Yo\A  fiend,  avoid ! — So  Collier's  second  folio.  The  old  text 
has  "False  fiend. "  It  does  not  well  appear  why  Bolingbroke  should 
denounce  the  Spirit  as  false. 

P.  157.  The  King  and  commonweal 

Are  di^^^-indebted  for  this  piece  of  pains. — The  old  text  has 
"  deeply  indebted."     Corrected  by  Rowe. 

P.  157.     We'll  see  your  trinkets  here  forthcoming  all.  — 

Away  ! —  The  old  text  has  "  here  all  forthcoming.  All  away." 
Corrected  by  Rowe. 

Act  II.,  Scene  i. 

P.  160.    Churchmen  so  hot  ?  good  uncle,  hide  such  malice  ; 

For  with  such  holiness  you  well  can  do  it.  —  The  folio  has  the 
second  line  thus :  "  With  such  Holynesse  can  you  doe  it." 


256  KING    HENRY   VI.       PART    SECOND. 

P.  161.   Glo.    True,  uncle. 

Car.    [Aside  to  Glo.]    Are  ye  advised?  —  the  east  side  of 

the  grove  ? 
Glo.    [Aside   to   Car.]    Cardinal,  I  am  with  you.  —  The 
folio  prints  these  three  speeches  as  one,  and  assigns  the  whole  to  Glos- 
ter.     Theobald  set  them  right. 

P.  162.   Here  are  the  townsmen  on  procession. 

Come  to  present  your  Highness  with  the  man.  —  So  Capell. 
The  old  text  has,  in  the  first  line,  "  Here  comes  the  Townes-men,"  and, 
in  the  second,  "  To  present." 

P.  164.  Would  ye  not  think  his  cunning  to  be  great  that  could  restore 
this  cripple  to  his  legs  again  ?  —  So  the  quarto.  The  folio  has  "  thinke 
it.  Cunning  to  be  great." 

Act  II.,  Scene  2. 

P.  167.  My  lord,  I  long  to  hear  it  at  i\\e:  full. — So  Capell  and  Cdl- 
lier's  second  folio.  The  old  text  has  "  hear  it  at  full."  Pope  printed 
"hear  it  thus  at  full." 

P.  167.  Who,  after  Edward  Third'' s  death,  reign' d  as  king. — TTie 
old  text  has  "  Edward  the  third's."     Walker's  correction. 

P.  167.  Father,  the  duke  hath  told  the  very  truth.  —  So  Hanmer. 
The  old  text  reads  "  told  the  truth." 

P.  168.  To  Edmund  Langley,  Edward  Third's  fifth  son.  —  Here, 
again,  the  old  text  has  "  Edward  the  third." 

P.  169.    Henry  doth  claim  the  crown  from  yolui  of  Gaunt, 

The  fourth  son  ;  York  doth  claim  it  from  the  third.  —  The  old 
text  has  "  York  claymes  it."     Dyce  prints  "  while  York  claims  it." 

P.  169.  My  lord,  break  off;  we  know  your  mind  at  full.  —  So 
Capell.  The  old  text  has  "  breake  -ive  off."  Here,  as  in  many  other 
instances,  the  redundant  word  probably  got  repeated  out  of  place  by 
anticipation. 

Act  II.,  Scene  3. 

P.  1 70.  Beseech  your  Majesty,  give  me  leave  to  go.  —  The  old  text 
has  "/  beseech."     Corrected  by  Hanmer. 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  257 

P.  171.    God  and  King  Henry  gtniern  England'' s'hf^m\ 

Give  up  your  staff,  sir,  and  the  King  his  realm.  —  The  old  text 
has  "  govern  England's  Realme"    The  correction  is  Johnson's. 

P.  1 73.    Go,  and  take  hence  that  traitor  from  our  sight.  —  So  Han- 
mer  and  Collier's  second  folio.    The  old  text  lacks  and. 


Act  II.,  Scene  4- 

P.  174.   And  after  Summer  evermore  succeeds 

Bare  Winter,  with  his  wrathful-nipping  cold.  —  So  CapelL 
The  old  text  has  "  Barren  Winter." 

P.  174.    The  abject  people  gazing  on  thy  face 

With  envious  looks,  and  laughing  at  thy  shame.  —  The  first  folio 
lacks  and;  the  second  has  still  in  its  stead.  Here,  as  in  many  other 
cases,  still  must  mean  continually  ;  a  sense  that  does  not  suit  the  occa- 
sion.    Lettsom  proposed  and. 

P.  177.  Must  you.  Sir  John,  protect  my  lady  there  ?  —  So  Walker. 
The  old  text  has  here  instead  of  there.  As  the  speaker  is  referring  to 
the  Isle  of  Man,  here  can  hardly  be  right 

Act  III.,  Scene  i. 

P.  181.  li^ell,  Suffolk,  well,  thou  shall  not  see  me  blush.  —  So  Dyce 
and  Walker.  The  first  folio  reads  "Suffolke,  thou";  the  second, 
"  Suffolke,  yet  thou." 

P.  182.  But  weightier  crimes  are  laid  unto  your  charge.  —  So  Walk- 
er.    The  old  text  reads  "  But  mightier  crimes." 

P.  183.  That  you  will  clear  yourself  from  all  suspect. — The  old 
copies  have  suspence  ;  an  error  which  the  context  readily  corrects, 

P.  183.  But  I  am  made  the  prologue  to  their  play. — The  folio  text 
has  "  But  mine  is  made."  Lettsom  justly  remarks  that  "  the  context 
requires  the  quarto  reading,  /  a/«." 


2S8  KING    HENRY    VI.       PART    SECOND. 

P.  185.  Y?i.\x  lords,  cold  snow  melts  with  the  Sun's  hot  beams. —  So 
Collier's  second  folio.  The  old  text  has  "F}'ee  Lords."  Free  is  cer- 
tainly a  strange  epithet  for  the  place ;  and  "fair  lords,"  as  Dyce 
abundantly  shows,  was  a  common  form  of  address. 


P.  186.   '  Tis  York  that  hath  most  reason  for  his  death.  —  So  Collier's 
second  folio.  —  The  old  text  has  more  instead  of  most. 


P.  187.  As  Humphrey's /roff^,  by  treasons,  to  my  liege. — The  old 
text  reads  "  As  Humfrey  prov'd  by  reasons  to  my  liege."  Hanmer 
printed  Humphrey s  ;  and  Heath  notes  upon  the  passage,  "  Partly  the 
construction,  and  partly  the  sense,  oblige  us  to  read  '  As  Humphrey's 
proved  by  treasons  to  my  Liege.'  "  The  meaning  clearly  is,  "  proved 
an  enemy  to  my  liege." 

P.  188.  Men' s  flesh  preserved  so  whole  diO'Cti  seldom  win.  —  The  old 
text  has  do  instead  of  doth,     Hanmer's  correction. 

P.  190.  Whiles  I  in  Ireland  nourish  a  mighty  band.  —  Collier's  sec- 
ond folio  substitutes  march  for  nourish ;  and  so  I  have  scarce  any 
doubt  we  ought  to  read.  In  the  First  Part  we  have  a  clear  instance 
of  nourish  misprinted  for  marish.  See  note  on  "  Our  isle  be  made  a 
marish  of  salt  tears,"  page  115. 

Act  III.,  Scene  2. 

P.  191.   Have  you  laid  fair  the  bed?  are  all  things  well. 
According  as  I  gave  directions  ? 

I  Murd.   Yes,  my  good  lord.  —  So  Rowe.     The  old  text  has 
"Is  all  things  well,"  and  " '  Tis,  my  good  Lord." 

P.  192.  I  thank  thee,  Meg  ;  these  words  content  me  much.  —  Instead 
of  Meg,  the  old  text  has  Nell;  a  very  palpable  error.  Corrected  by 
Capell. 

P.  194.  Why,  then  Dame  Margaret  was  ne'er  thy  joy.  —  Here, 
again,  the  old  text  has  Elianor  for  Margaret.  Also,  a  little  after,  "  in 
thy  palace  perish  Elianor'''     Corrected  in  both  places  by  Rowe. 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  259 

P.  194.    And  tivice  by  awkward  vrmAs  from  England'' s  bank 
Drove  back  again  unto  my  native  clime  ? 
What  boded  this  but  well-forewarning  winds 
Did  seem  to  say,  &c.  —  The  old  text  has  winde  instead  of  winds 
in  both  places.     Corrected  by  Pope. 

P.  195.    As  far  as  I  could  ken  the  chalky  cliffs 

When  from  thy  shore  the  tempest  beat  us  back,  &c.  —  The  old 
text  has  "  ken  thy  Chalky  Clififes."     The  correction  is  Pope's. 

P.  195.   My  earnest-gaping  sight  of  thy  land^s  mew.  —  It  has  been 
proposed  to  read  "  eamest-^aztw^  sight  ";   and  rightly,  I  suspect. 

P.  195.    To  sit  «w</ witch  me,  as  Ascanius  did 

When  he  to  madding  Dido  would  unfold 

Ilis  father'' s  acts  commenced  in  burning  Troy  ! 

Am  I  not  witcKd  like  her  ?  art  thou  not  false  like  him  ? 

Ah  me,  I  can  no  more !  die,  Margaret.  —  In  the  first  of  these 
lines,  the  old  text  has  "  To  sit  and  watch  "  /  in  the  fourth,  "  Or  thou 
not  false  ";  in  the  fifth,  "  Dye  Elinor^* 


P.  196.    Fain  would  I  go  to  chafe  his  paly  lips 
With  twenty  thousand  kisses,  and  to  rain 

Upon  his  face  an  ocean  of  salt  tears,  &c.  —  The  old  text  has 
draine  instead  of  rain.  Corrected  by  Capell.  So  in  The  Taming  of 
the  Shrew,  Induction,  I :  "To  rain  a  shower  of  commanded  tears." 
Also  in  Venus  and  Adonis  :  "  With  tears,  which,  chorus-like,  her  eyes 
did  rain." 


P.  197.    For  with  his  soul  fled  all  my  worldly  solace. 

And,  seeing  him,  I  see  my  death  in  life.  —  So  Capell  and  Col- 
lier's second  folio.  The  old  text  has  "/br  seeing  him."  For  was 
doubtless  repeated  by  mistake  from  the  line  above. 

P.  200.  Unless  false  Suffolk  straight  be  done  to  death.  —  So  the 
quarto.  The  folio  has  "  Unlesse  Lord  Suffolke."  Here,  again,  Lord 
probably  crept  in  out  of  place  from  the  line  above. 


260  KING    HENRY    VI.       PART    SECOND. 

P.  203.  Poison  he  their  drink  ! 

Gall,  worse  than  gall,  the  daintiest  thing  they  taste  1  —  So  the 
quarto.     The  foUo  has  "  the  daintiest  that  they  taste." 

P.  204.   I  can  no  more  :  live  thou  to  joy  thy  life  ; 

Myself  to  joy  in  nought  but  that  thou  livest.  —  So  Collier's 
second  folio.     The  old  text  reads  "  Myselfe  no  joy  in  nought." 

P.  206.   Queen.   And  take  my  heart  along  zvith  thee. 
Suf.    A  jewel,  lock' d  into  the  woefulTst  casket 
That  ever  did  contain  a  thing  of  worth.  —  In  the  first  of  these 
lines,  the  old  text  lacks  along,  which  was  inserted  by  Hanmer ;   and, 
in  the  second  has  cask  instead  of  casket,  which  is  Rowe's  correction, 
and  is  also  in  Collier's  second  folio. 

Act  III.,  Scene  3. 

P.  206.  So  thou  wilt  let  me  live,  and  feel  no  pain.  —  The  corre- 
sponding line  in  the  quarto  is,  "  If  thou  wilt  let  me  live  but  one  whole 
yeary  It  may  well  be  questioned  whether  this  ought  not  to  be  sub- 
stituted for  the  folio  reading. 

P.  207.  Peace  to  his  soul,  if't  God^s  good  pleasure  be  I —  So  Collier's 
second  folio.     The  old  text  has  "?y  God's  good  pleasure  be." 

Act  IV.,  Scene  i. 

P.  209.    The  lives  of  those  which  we  have  lost  in  fight 

Cannot  be  counterpoised  with  such  a  petty  sum.  —  So  Malone. 
The  old  text  lacks  Cannot.  Capell  printed  "  Cannot  be  poised,"  and 
thus  kept  the  line  a  pentameter.    But  this  play  has  many  Alexandrines. 

P.  210.    yove  sometime  went  disguised,  and  why  not  I ? 

Cap.  But  Jove  was  never  slain,  as  thou  shall  be. — The  first 
of  these  lines  is  wanting  in  the  folio,  and  is  supplied  from  the  quarto. 
The  necessity  of  retaining  it  is  obvious. 

P.  210.  Suf.  Obscure  and  lowly  swain,  King  Henry's  blood,  &c. — 
The  original  makes  this  line  a  continuation  of  the  preceding  speech, 
and  has  lowsie  instead  of  lowly.  Collier's  second  folio  has  lowly,  and 
so  have  the  quartos. 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  261 

P.  21 1.   Cap,    Convey  him  hence,  and  on  our  long-boat *s  side 
Strike  off  his  head. 

Suf.  Thou  darest  not ,  for  thy  own. 

Cap.    Yes,  Pole. 
Suf.  PoU! 

Cap.   PoU!  Sir  PoU!  lord! 
Ay,  kennel,  puddle,  sink;  -whose filth  and  dirt,  &c. — The  third 
and  fourth  of  these  speeches  are  wanting  in  the  folio,  and  have  been 
supplied  from  the  quarto,  as  the  context  evidently  requires  them. 

P.  211.  And,  like  ambitious  Sulla,  overgorged 

With  gobbets  of  thy  mother's  bUeding  heart.  —  The  old  text  has 
"  thy  J/(?/^r-bleeding  heart." 

P.  211.    The  princely  Warwick,  and  the  NevilUs  all. 

As  hating  thee,  are  rising  up  in  arms.  —  The  old  text  has  and 
instead  of  are.     Corrected  by  Rowe. 

P.  213.  Gelidus  timor  occupat  artus: — it  is  thee  I  fear.  —  So  the 
second  folio.  The  first  has  "  Pine  gelidus  timor  occupat  artus."  As 
Pine  is  not  a  Latin  word,  and  has  no  meaning  here,  it  was  no  doubt 
struck  out  for  good  cause. 

P.  213.  And  sooner  dance  upon  a  bloody  poU 

Than  stand  uncover'' d  to  this  vulgar  groom. 
Exempt  is  true  nobility  from  fear.  —  In  the  second  of  these 
lines,  the  old  text  has  "  to  the  vulgar  groom."     Corrected  by  Walker. 
The  third  line  reads  unmetrically,  thus:  "True  nobility  is  exempt  from 
fear."     Lloyd's  correction. 

P.  213.    Come,  soldiers,  show  what  cruelty  you  can. 

That  this  my  death  may  never  be  forgot !  —  In  the  old  text,  the 
first  of  these  lines  is  printed  as  a  part  of  the  preceding  speech.  A 
manifest  error.    Corrected  by  Hanmer. 

Act  IV.,  Scene  2. 

P.  214.  Labour  in  thy  vocation  ;  which  is  as  much  as  eo  say,  fee  — 
So  Collier's  second  folio.    The  old  text  reads  "  as  much  to  say  as,"  Ac 


262  KING   HENRY   VI.       PART   SECOND. 

P.  215.  We  John  Cade,  so  term'' d  of  our  supposed  father,  ox  for  our 
enemies  shall  fall  before  us,  &c.  —  So  Walker.  The  old  text  has  faile 
instead  oi  fall  and  lacks  or.  Both  changes  are  clearly  required,  in 
order  to  make  any  sense  out  of  the  passage,  as  Cade  is  evidently  play- 
ing on  his  own  name  as  if  it  were  from  the  Latin  cadere,  which  means 
to  fall. 

P.  219.   Cade.    And  Adam  was  a  gardner. 

W.  Staf.  What  of  that?— The:  old  text  has  "And  what  of 
that  ? "  And  having  doubtless  crept  in  by  mistake  from  the  line 
above. 

Act  IV.,  Scene  3. 

P.  221.  And  thou  shall  have  a  license  for  to  kill  a  hundred  lacking 
one  a- week.  —  The  word  a-week  is  wanting  in  the  folio,  and  was  added 
by  Malone  from  the  quarto.  It  is  clearly  essential,  as  the  passage 
has  no  intelligible  meaning  without  it.  The  old  text  also  reads  "  a 
License  to  kiliyor  a  hundred,"  &c.;  which  I  have  laboured  in  vain  to 
understand.  The  use  ol  for  before  an  infinitive  verb  was  very  common. 
See  foot-note  i. 

Act  IV.,  Scene  4. 

P.  222.  Lamenting  still,  and  mourning  Suffolk's  death  ?  —  So  Pope 
and  Collier's  second  folio.  The  old  text  has  the  line  thus  :  "  Still  la- 
menting zxydi  mourning y^r  Suffolkes  death." 

P.  223.  No,  love,  I  should  not  mourn,  but  die  for  thee.  —  The  old 
text  has  "  No  my  Love."     Capell's  correction. 

P.  224.  Trust  nobody,  for  fear  you  be  betrayed.  —  So  the  second 
folio.     The  first  omits  be. 

Act  IV.,  Scene  7. 

P.  228.    Sweet  is  the  country,  beauteous,  full  of  riches  ; 

The  people  liberal,  valiant,  active,  worthy.  —  In  the  first  of 
these  lines,  the  old  text  reads  "  because  full  of  Riches."  Beauteous  is 
Hanmer's  reading ;  and  Walker  observes,  "  Because  has  undoubtedly 
usurped  the  place  of  some  epithet,  in  all  probability  beauteous."  In 
the  second  line  also,  the  old  text  has  wealthy  instead  of  worthy,  which 
is  Hanmer's  correction,  and  is  also  found  in  Collier's  second  folio. 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  263 

P.  228.    When  have  I  aught  exacted  at  your  hands. 

But  to  maintain  the  King,  the  realm,  and  you  ?  —  The  old 
text  reads  "Kent  to  maintaine,  the  King,"  &c.     Corrected  by  Johnson. 

P.  229.  Ye  shall  have  a  hempen  caudle,  then.  —  The  original  has 
"  a  hempen  Candle  ";  a  very  easy  misprint,  which  was  corrected  in 
the  fourth  folio. 

P.  229.  It  is  the  palsy,  and  not  fear,  provokes  me.  —  So  the  quarto. 
The  folio  lacks  the  words  //  is. 

Act  IV.,  Scene  8. 
P.  231.  Or  let  a  rebel  lead  you  to  your  deaths  ?  —  The  old  text  has 
rabble  instead  of  rebel,  which  is  the  correction  made  in  both  Collier's 
and  Singer's  second  folios.  Of  course  the  reference  is  to  Cade  :  for 
who  should  be  spoken  of  as  leading  them  to  their  deaths,  but  the  man 
who  heads  the  rebellion  ? 

P.  231.  And  you,  base  peasants,  do  ye  believe  them?  —  The  old  text 
has  "  believe  him  ?  "  The  speaker  clearly  has  both  Buckingham  and 
Clifford  in  his  thought ;   and  him  and  them  were  often  confounded. 

P.  232.  I  thought  ye  would  never  have  given  out  those  arms  till,  &c. 
—  Walker  thinks  we  should  read  " given  over"  and  I  suspect  he  is 
right.     See,  however,  foot-note  i. 

P.  232.  Crying  Viliaco !  unto  all  they  meet. — The  original  has 
Villiago,  which  has  sometimes  been  changed  to  Villageois.  But 
Viliaco  is  surely  the  right  word.     See  foot-note  2. 

Act  IV.,  Scene  9. 
P.  234.    Tlie  Duke  of  York  is  newly  come  from  Ireland; 

And  with  a  puissant  and  mighty  power 

<y  savage  gallowglasses  and  stout  kerns 

Is  marching  hitherwards  in  proud  array.  —  In  the  second  of 
these  lines,  the  old  text  has  "  and  a  mighty  power,"  and,  in  the  third, 
lacks  savage.  It  is  not  likely  that  the  verse  was  left  thus  defective  by 
the  author  ;  but  editors  are  not  agreed  as  to  the  most  fitting  word  for 
completing  it.  Hanmer  inserted  desperate,  and  Capell  nimble ;  while 
Collier's  second  folio  has  "  stout  Irish  kerns."  Dyce  prints  savage, 
and  remarks  that  the  "  ferocity  of"  the  gallowglasses  "was  notorious." 
See  foot-note  i. 


264  KING    HENRY    VI.      PART    SECOND. 

P.  235.    Like  to  a  ship  that,  having  heaped  a  tempest, 

Is  straightway  chased  and  boarded  -with  a  pirate.  —  So  Walker. 
The  original  has  calme ;  the  second  folio,  claimd.  The  common 
reading  is  cabri'd;  but  that  sense,  it  seems  to  me,  does  not  suit  the 
context. 

P.  235.  I  pray  thee,  Buckingham,  go  thou  attd  meet  him. —  So 
Dyce.     The  old  text  omits  thou  ;  doubtless  by  mistake. 

P.  235.    Come,  wife,  lefs  in,  and  learn  to  govern  better ; 

Ox  yet  may  England  curse  my  wretched  reign.  —  The  old  text 
has  For  instead  of  Or.  Corrected  by  Walker.  We  have  many  in- 
stances oifor  and  or  being  confounded. 

Act  IV.,  Scene  10. 

P.  235.  />V  o«  ambition !  _/f^  on  myself,  Slc.  —  So  the  second  folio. 
The  first  has  ambitious. 

P.  236.  Wherefore,  o'er  a  brick-tvall  have  I  climb' d  into  this  garden, 
&c.  —  So  Hanmer  and  Collier's  second  folio.  The  old  text  has  on  in- 
stead of  o'er. 

P.  236.  And  many  a  time,  when  I  have  been  dry,  and  bravely 
marching,  &c.  —  Walker  asks,  "  What  has  bravely  to  do  here  ? " 
Dyce  queries  heavily.     But  neither  word  seems  just  right. 

P.  236.    This  small  inheritance,  my  father  left  me. 

Contents  me,  and  is  worth  a  monarchy. 

I  seek  not  to  wax  great  by  others'  waning.  —  In  the  second  of 
these  lines,  the  old  text  reads  "  Contenteth  me,  and  worth  a  Monarchy." 
Also,  in  the  third,  warning  for  waning. 

P.  237.    But,  as  for  words,  whose  greatness  answers  words. 

Let  this  my  sword  report  what  speech  forbears.  —  So  Dyce. 
The  old  text  lacks  But. 

P.  237.  /  beseech  God,  on  my  kttees,  &c.  —  The  old  text  has  "  I  be- 
seech Jove."  We  have  repeated  instances  of  the  same  substitution, 
probably  made  by  the  editors  in  compliance  with  the  well-known 
statute  against  profanity.  See  note  on  "  God  and  my  stars  be  praised," 
vol.  V.  page  247. 


I 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  265 

P.  238.  And  as  I  thrust  thy  body  -ufith  my  sword.  —  The  old  text  has 
"  thrust  thy  body  in  with  my  sword." 

Act  v..  Scene  i. 

P.  239.  O  Buckingham,  I  fr'ythte,  pardon  me.  —  So  the  second 
folio.     The  first  lacks  O. 

P.  241.    Tell  me,  my  friend,  art  thou  the  man  thai  slew  him  ? 

Iden.  /  am,  anU  like  your  Majesty.  —  The  old  text  has  "  I 
was."  Capell  printed  "wastXhoxx.  the  man."  It  seems  plain  enough 
that  one  of  these  changes  ought  to  be  admitted. 

P.  241.  Iden,  kneel  dawn.  [He  kneels.]  Iden,  rise  up  a  knight.  — 
So  Lettsom.  The  old  text  lacks  the  second  Iden.  Hanmer  com- 
pleted the  verse  by  printing  "  and  rise  thou  up  ";  Capell,  "  now  rise 
thou  up." 

P.  242.   King  did  I  call  thee  ?  no,  thou  art  no  king ; 

Not  fit  to  rule  and  govern  multitudes. — The  old  text  reads 
"  thou  art  not  king,"  and  "  Not  fit  to  govern  and  rule."  Upon  the 
latter  Walker  exclaims,  "  Papoe  !     Rule  and  govern." 

P.  242.     Wouldst  have  me  kneel?  first  let  me  ask  <?/" these, 

If  they  can  brook  I  bow  a  knee  to  man.  —  The  old  text  reads 
"  first  let  me  ask  of  thee."     See  foot-note  2. 

P.  242.    Sirrah,  call  in  my  sons  to  be  my  bail  : 
I  know,  ere  they  will  have  me  go  to  ward. 

They'll  pawn  their  swords  for  my  enfranchisement.  —  In  the 
first  of  these  lines,  the  original  has  sonne.  Also,  in  the  third  line,  the 
old  text  has  <j^instead  olfor.    Corrected  in  the  second  folio. 

P.  244.     That  with  the  very  shaking  of  their  chains 

They  may  astonish  these,  y^/7-lurching  curs.  —  So  Heath.  The 
old  text  has  "  fell-lurking  Curres."  Collier's  second  folio  substitutes 
"  feU-looking."     See  foot-note  5. 

P.  245.    IVilt  thou  go  dig  a  grave  to  find  out  war. 

And  stain  thine  honourable  age  -anth  blood?  —  So  Walker.  The 
old  text  has  shame  instead  of  stain.  The  occurrence  of  shame  in  the 
third  line  below  prompted  the  change. 


266  KING    HENRY    VI.       PART    SECOND. 

P.  245.    /  am   resolved  for  death  or   dignity. — The   old   text    has 
"  death  a7td  dignitie."     Corrected  by  Rowe. 

P.  245.     You  were  best  go  to  bed  and  dream  again.  —  The  old  text 
reads  "  best  to  go  to  bed."     Corrected  by  Rowe. 

P.  246.    Might  I  but  knoia  thee  by  thy  household  badge.  —  So  the 
quarto.     The  first  folio  has  housed ;  the  second,  houses. 

Act  v.,  Scene  2. 

P.  250.  Uncurable  discomfit 

Reigns  in  the  hearts  of  all  our  present  part.  —  The  old  text  has 
parts  instead  oipart.     See  foot-note  7. 

Act  v.,  Scene  3. 

P.  250.   Old  Salisbury,  who  can  report  ofhim^  — 

That  winter  lion,  who  in  rage  forgets 

Aged  contusions  and  all  bruise  of  time, 

And,  like  a  gallant  in  the  bloom  of  youth, 

Repairs  him  with  occasion.  —  In  the  first  of  these  lines  the 
foho  has  Cyinstead  of  Old ;  in  the  third,  brush  instead  of  bruise ;  and, 
in  the  fourth,  brotv  instead  of  bloom.  All  three  corrections  are  made 
in  Collier's  second  folio  :  the  first  is  also  supported  by  the  quarto;  the 
second  was  conjectured  by  Warburton;  and  Johnson  proposed  blow 
for  the  third. 

P.  252.   Now,  by  my  faith,  lords,  Hwas  a  glorious  day  ; 
Saint  Alban's  battle,  won  by  famous  York, 
Shall  be  eternized  in  all  age  to  come.  — 
Sound  AxMxas  and  trumpets  ;  —  and  to  London  all: 
And  more  such  days  as  this  to  us  befall !  —  In  the  first  of  these 
lines,  the  folio  has  hand  instead  of  faith,  —  perhaps  in  comphance 
with  the  statute  against  profanity;  in  the  fourth,  Drumvie  instead  of 
drums,  which  is   from   the  quarto  ;    and,  in  the  fifth,  these  instead  of 
this,  which  is  Hanmer's  correction.