King Henry VI, First Part - Уильям Шекспир 2 стр.

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

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

She takes upon her bravely at first dash.

Dauphin, I am by birth a shepherd's daughter,
My wit untrain'd in any kind of art.
Heaven and our Lady gracious 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 complete 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 may see.
Ask me what question thou canst possible,
And I will answer unpremeditated:
My courage try by combat, if thou dar'st,
And thou shalt find that I exceed my sex.
Resolve on this, thou shalt be fortunate,
If thou receive me for thy warlike mate.

Thou hast 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.

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

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

And while I live, I 'll ne'er fly from a man.
Here they fight, and Joan La Pucelle overcomes.

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

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

Whoe'er helps thee, 'tis thou that must help me:
Impatiently I burn 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.

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.

Meantime look gracious on thy prostrate thrall.

My lord, methinks, is very long in talk.

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

Shall we disturb him, since he keeps no mean?

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

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

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

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

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
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 Caesar and his fortune bare at once.

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 reverently worship thee enough?

Leave off delays, and let us raise the siege.

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

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

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.

[Within] Who's there that knocks so imperiously?

It is the noble Duke of Gloucester.

[Within] Whoe'er he be, you may not be let in.

Villains, answer you so the lord protector?

[Within] The Lord protect him! so we answer him:
We do no otherwise than we are will'd.

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?
Gloucester's men rush at the Tower Gates, and Woodvile the
Lieutenant speaks within.

What noise is this? what traitors have we here?

Lieutenant, is it you whose voice I hear?
Open the gates; here's Gloucester that would enter.

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

Faint-hearted Woodvile, 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.

Open the gates unto the lord protector,
Or we 'll burst them open, if that you come not quickly.

How now, ambitious Humphry! what means this?

Peel'd priest, dost thou command me to be shut out?

I do, thou most usurping proditor,
And not protector, of the king or realm.

Stand back, thou manifest conspirator,
Thou that 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.

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.

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

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

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

Winchester goose, I cry, a rope! a rope!
Now beat them hence; why do you let them stay?
Thee I 'll chase hence, thou wolf in sheep's array.
Out, tawny coats! out, scarlet hypocrite!
Here Gloucester's men beat out the Cardinal's
men, and enter in the hurly-burly the Mayor of
London and his Officers.

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

Peace, mayor! thou know'st little of my wrongs:
Here's Beaufort, that regards nor God nor king,
Hath here distrain'd the Tower to his use.

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

I will not answer thee with words, but blows.
Here they skirmish again.

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

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

Gloucester, we will meet; to thy cost, be sure;
Thy heart-blood I will have for this day's work.

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

Mayor, farewell: thou dost but what thou mayst.

Abominable Gloucester, guard thy head;
For I intend to have it ere long.

See the coast clear'd, and then we will depart.
Good God, these nobles should such stomachs bear!
I myself fight not once in forty year.

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

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

But now thou shalt not. Be thou ruled by me:
Chief master-gunner am I of this town;
Something I must do to procure me grace.
The prince's espials have informed me
How the English, in the suburbs close intrench'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.

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

Talbot, my life, my joy, again return'd!
How wert thou handled being prisoner?
Or by what means got'st thou to be releas'd?
Discourse, I prithee, on this turret's top.

The Duke of Bedford had a prisoner
Call'd 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.

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

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.
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,
Ready they were to shoot me to the heart.