The first Part of Henry the Sixt (Illustrated) E-Book

William Shakespeare

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Beschreibung

Henry VI, Part 1 (often written as 1 Henry VI), is a history play by William Shakespeare, and possibly Thomas Nashe, believed to have been written in 1591, and set during the lifetime of King Henry VI of England. Whereas 2 Henry VI deals with the King's inability to quell the bickering of his nobles, and the inevitability of armed conflict, and 3 Henry VI deals with the horrors of that conflict, 1 Henry VI deals with the loss of England's French territories and the political machinations leading up to the Wars of the Roses, as the English political system is torn apart by personal squabbles and petty jealousy. Although the Henry VI trilogy may not have been written in chronological order, the three plays are often grouped together with Richard III to form a tetralogy covering the entire Wars of the Roses saga, from the death of Henry V in 1422 to the rise to power of Henry VII in 1485. It was the success of this sequence of plays that firmly established Shakespeare's reputation as a playwright.

Leseprobe

William Shakespeare

The first Part of Henry the Sixt (Illustrated)

BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Dead March.

Enter the Funerall of King Henry the Fift, attended on by the Duke

of

Bedford, Regent of France; the Duke of Gloster, Protector; the

Duke of

Exeter Warwicke, the Bishop of Winchester, and the Duke of

Somerset.

Bedford. Hung be y heauens with black, yield day to night;

Comets importing change of Times and States,

Brandish your crystall Tresses in the Skie,

And with them scourge the bad reuolting Stars,

That haue consented vnto Henries death:

King Henry the Fift, too famous to liue long,

England ne're lost a King of so much worth

Glost. England ne're had a King vntill his time:

Vertue he had, deseruing to command,

His brandisht Sword did blinde men with his beames,

His Armes spred wider then a Dragons Wings:

His sparkling Eyes, repleat with wrathfull fire,

More dazled and droue back his Enemies,

Then mid-day Sunne, fierce bent against their faces.

What should I say? his Deeds exceed all speech:

He ne're lift vp his Hand, but conquered

Exe. We mourne in black, why mourn we not in blood?

Henry is dead, and neuer shall reuiue:

Vpon a Woodden Coffin we attend;

And Deaths dishonourable Victorie,

We with our stately presence glorifie,

Like Captiues bound to a Triumphant Carre.

What? shall we curse the Planets of Mishap,

That plotted thus our Glories ouerthrow?

Or shall we thinke the subtile-witted French,

Coniurers and Sorcerers, that afraid of him,

By Magick Verses haue contriu'd his end

Winch. He was a King, blest of the King of Kings.

Vnto the French, the dreadfull Iudgement-Day

So dreadfull will not be, as was his sight.

The Battailes of the Lord of Hosts he fought:

The Churches Prayers made him so prosperous

Glost. The Church? where is it?

Had not Church-men pray'd,

His thred of Life had not so soone decay'd.

None doe you like, but an effeminate Prince,

Whom like a Schoole-boy you may ouer-awe

Winch. Gloster, what ere we like, thou art Protector,

And lookest to command the Prince and Realme.

Thy Wife is prowd, she holdeth thee in awe,

More then God or Religious Church-men may

Glost. Name not Religion, for thou lou'st the Flesh,

And ne're throughout the yeere to Church thou go'st,

Except it be to pray against thy foes

Bed. Cease, cease these Iarres, & rest your minds in peace:

Let's to the Altar: Heralds wayt on vs;

In stead of Gold, wee'le offer vp our Armes,

Since Armes auayle not, now that Henry's dead,

Posteritie await for wretched yeeres,

When at their Mothers moistned eyes, Babes shall suck,

Our Ile be made a Nourish of salt Teares,

And none but Women left to wayle the dead.

Henry the Fift, thy Ghost I inuocate:

Prosper this Realme, keepe it from Ciuill Broyles,

Combat with aduerse Planets in the Heauens;

A farre more glorious Starre thy Soule will make,

Then Iulius Cæsar, or bright-

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My honourable Lords, health to you all:

Sad tidings bring I to you out of France,

Of losse, of slaughter, and discomfiture:

Guyen, Champaigne, Rheimes, Orleance,

Paris Guysors, Poictiers, are all quite lost

Bedf. What say'st thou man, before dead Henry's Coarse?

Speake softly, or the losse of those great Townes

Will make him burst his Lead, and rise from death

Glost. Is Paris lost? is Roan yeelded vp?

If Henry were recall'd to life againe,

These news would cause him once more yeeld the Ghost

Exe. How were they lost? what trecherie was vs'd?

Mess. No trecherie, but want of Men and Money.

Amongst the Souldiers this is muttered,

That here you maintaine seuerall Factions:

And whil'st a Field should be dispatcht and fought,

You are disputing of your Generals.

One would haue lingring Warres, with little cost;

Another would flye swift, but wanteth Wings:

A third thinkes, without expence at all,

By guilefull faire words, Peace may be obtayn'd.

Awake, awake, English Nobilitie,

Let not slouth dimme your Honors, new begot;

Cropt are the Flower-de-Luces in your Armes

Of Englands Coat, one halfe is cut away

Exe. Were our Teares wanting to this Funerall,

These Tidings would call forth her flowing Tides

Bedf. Me they concerne, Regent I am of France:

Giue me my steeled Coat, Ile fight for France.

Away with these disgracefull wayling Robes;

Wounds will I lend the French, in stead of Eyes,

To weepe their intermissiue Miseries.

Enter to them another Messenger.

Mess. Lords view these Letters, full of bad mischance.

France is reuolted from the English quite,

Except some petty Townes, of no import.

The Dolphin Charles is crowned King in Rheimes:

The Bastard of Orleance with him is ioyn'd:

Reynold, Duke of Aniou, doth take his part,

The Duke of Alanson flyeth to his side.

Enter.

Exe. The Dolphin crown'd King? all flye to him?

O whither shall we flye from this reproach?

Glost. We will not flye, but to our enemies throats.

Bedford, if thou be slacke, Ile fight it out

Bed. Gloster, why doubtst thou of my forwardnesse?

An Army haue I muster'd in my thoughts,

Wherewith already France is ouer-run.

Enter another Messenger.

Mes. My gracious Lords, to adde to your laments,

Wherewith you now bedew King Henries hearse,

I must informe you of a dismall fight,

Betwixt the stout Lord Talbot, and the French

Win. What? wherein Talbot ouercame, is't so?

3.Mes. O no: wherein Lord Talbot was o'rethrown:

The circumstance Ile tell you more at large.

The tenth of August last, this dreadfull Lord,

Retyring from the Siege of Orleance,

Hauing full scarce six thousand in his troupe,

By three and twentie thousand of the French

Was round incompassed, and set vpon:

No leysure had he to enranke his men.

He wanted Pikes to set before his Archers:

In stead whereof, sharpe Stakes pluckt out of Hedges

They pitched in the ground confusedly,

To keepe the Horsemen off, from breaking in.

More then three houres the fight continued:

Where valiant Talbot, aboue humane thought,

Enacted wonders with his Sword and Lance.

Hundreds he sent to Hell, and none durst stand him:

Here, there, and euery where enrag'd, he slew.

The French exclaym'd, the Deuill was in Armes,

All the whole Army stood agaz'd on him.

His Souldiers spying his vndaunted Spirit,

A Talbot, a Talbot, cry'd out amaine,

And rusht into the Bowels of the Battaile.

Here had the Conquest fully been seal'd vp,

If Sir Iohn Falstaffe had not play'd the Coward.

He being in the Vauward, plac't behinde,

With purpose to relieue and follow them,

Cowardly fled, not hauing struck one stroake.

Hence grew the generall wrack and massacre:

Enclosed were they with their Enemies.

A base Wallon, to win the Dolphins grace,

Thrust Talbot with a Speare into the Back,

Whom all France, with their chiefe assembled strength,

Durst not presume to looke once in the face

Bedf. Is Talbot slaine then? I will slay my selfe,

For liuing idly here, in pompe and ease,

Whil'st such a worthy Leader, wanting ayd,

Vnto his dastard foe-men is betray'd

3.Mess. O no, he liues, but is tooke Prisoner,

And Lord Scales with him, and Lord Hungerford:

Most of the rest slaughter'd, or tooke likewise

Bedf. His Ransome there is none but I shall pay.

Ile hale the Dolphin headlong from his Throne,

His Crowne shall be the Ransome of my friend:

Foure of their Lords Ile change for one of ours.

Farwell my Masters, to my Taske will I,

Bonfires in France forthwith I am to make,

To keepe our great Saint Georges Feast withall.

Ten thousand Souldiers with me I will take,

Whose bloody deeds shall make all Europe quake

3.Mess. So you had need, for Orleance is besieg'd,

The English Army is growne weake and faint:

The Earle of Salisbury craueth supply,

And hardly keepes his men from mutinie,

Since they so few, watch such a multitude

Exe. Remember Lords your Oathes to Henry sworne:

Eyther to quell the Dolphin vtterly,

Or bring him in obedience to your yoake

Bedf. I doe remember it, and here take my leaue,

To goe about my preparation.

Exit Bedford.

Glost. Ile to the Tower with all the hast I can,

To view th' Artillerie and Munition,

And then I will proclayme young Henry King.

Exit Gloster.

Exe. To Eltam will I, where the young King is,

Being ordayn'd his speciall Gouernor,

And for his safetie there Ile best deuise.

Enter.

Winch. Each hath his Place and Function to attend:

I am left out; for me nothing remaines:

But long I will not be Iack out of Office.

The King from Eltam I intend to send,

And sit at chiefest Sterne of publique Weale.

Enter.

Sound a Flourish.

Enter Charles, Alanson, and Reigneir, marching with Drum and

Souldiers.

Charles. Mars his true mouing, euen as in the Heauens,

So in the Earth, to this day is not knowne.

Late did he shine vpon the English side:

Now we are Victors, vpon vs he smiles.

What Townes of any moment, but we haue?

At pleasure here we lye, neere Orleance:

Otherwhiles, the famisht English, like pale Ghosts,

Faintly besiege vs one houre in a moneth

Alan. They want their Porredge, & their fat Bul Beeues:

Eyther they must be dyeted like Mules,

And haue their Prouender ty'd to their mouthes,

Or pitteous they will looke, like drowned Mice

Reigneir. Let's rayse the Siege: why liue we idly here?

Talbot is taken, whom we wont to feare:

Remayneth none but mad-brayn'd Salisbury,

And he may well in fretting spend his gall,

Nor men nor Money hath he to make Warre

Charles. Sound, sound Alarum, we will rush on them.

Now for the honour of the forlorne French:

Him I forgiue my death, that killeth me,

When he sees me goe back one foot, or flye.

Exeunt.

Here Alarum, they are beaten back by the English, with great

losse.

Enter Charles, Alanson, and Reigneir.

Charles. Who euer saw the like? what men haue I?

Dogges, Cowards, Dastards: I would ne're haue fled,

But that they left me 'midst my Enemies

Reigneir. Salisbury is a desperate Homicide,

He fighteth as one weary of his life:

The other Lords, like Lyons wanting foode,

Doe rush vpon vs as their hungry prey

Alanson. Froysard, a Countreyman of ours, records,

England all Oliuers and Rowlands breed,

During the time Edward the third did raigne:

More truly now may this be verified;

For none but Samsons and Goliasses

It sendeth forth to skirmish: one to tenne?

Leane raw-bon'd Rascals, who would e'er suppose,

They had such courage and audacitie?

Charles. Let's leaue this Towne,

For they are hayre-brayn'd Slaues,

And hunger will enforce them to be more eager:

Of old I know them; rather with their Teeth

The Walls they'le teare downe, then forsake the Siege

Reigneir. I thinke by some odde Gimmors or Deuice

Their Armes are set, like Clocks, still to strike on;

Else ne're could they hold out so as they doe:

By my consent, wee'le euen let them alone

Alanson. Be it so.

Enter the Bastard of Orleance.

Bastard. Where's the Prince Dolphin? I haue newes

for him

Dolph. Bastard of Orleance, thrice welcome to vs

Bast. Me thinks your looks are sad, your chear appal'd.

Hath the late ouerthrow wrought this offence?

Be not dismay'd, for succour is at hand:

A holy Maid hither with me I bring,

Which by a Vision sent to her from Heauen,

Ordayned is to rayse this tedious Siege,

And driue the English forth the bounds of France:

The spirit of deepe Prophecie she hath,

Exceeding the nine Sibyls of old Rome:

What's past, and what's to come, she can descry.

Speake, shall I call her in? beleeue my words,

For they are certaine, and vnfallible

Dolph. Goe call her in: but first, to try her skill,

Reignier stand thou as Dolphin in my place;

Question her prowdly, let thy Lookes be sterne,

By this meanes shall we sound what skill she hath.

Enter Ioane Puzel.

Reigneir. Faire Maid, is't thou wilt doe these wondrous

feats?

Puzel. Reignier, is't thou that thinkest to beguile me?

Where is the Dolphin? Come, come from behinde,

I know thee well, though neuer seene before.

Be not amaz'd, there's nothing hid from me;

In priuate will I talke with thee apart:

Stand back you Lords, and giue vs leaue a while

Reigneir. She takes vpon her brauely at first dash

Puzel. Dolphin, I am by birth a Shepheards Daughter,

My wit vntrayn'd in any kind of Art:

Heauen and our Lady gracious hath it pleas'd

To shine on my contemptible estate.

Loe, whilest I wayted on my tender Lambes,

And to Sunnes parching heat display'd my cheekes,

Gods Mother deigned to appeare to me,

And in a Vision full of Maiestie,

Will'd me to leaue my base Vocation,

And free my Countrey from Calamitie:

Her ayde she promis'd, and assur'd successe.

In compleat Glory shee reueal'd her selfe:

And whereas I was black and swart before,

With those cleare Rayes, which shee infus'd on me,

That beautie am I blest with, which you may see.

Aske me what question thou canst possible,

And I will answer vnpremeditated:

My Courage trie by Combat, if thou dar'st,

And thou shalt finde that I exceed my Sex.

Resolue on this, thou shalt be fortunate,

If thou receiue me for thy Warlike Mate

Dolph. Thou hast astonisht me with thy high termes:

Onely this proofe Ile 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

Puzel. I am prepar'd: here is my keene-edg'd Sword,

Deckt with fine Flower-de-Luces on each side,