King Henry VI, First Part. Уильям Шекспир

      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.

      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.

      How were they lost? What treachery was us'd?

      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 thinks, without expense at all,

      By guileful fair words peace may be obtain'd.

      Awake, awake, English nobility!

      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.

      Were our tears wanting to this funeral,

      These tidings would call forth their flowing tides.

      Me they concern; Regent I am of France.

      Give me my steeled coat. I'll fight for France.

      Away with these disgraceful wailing robes!

      Wounds will I lend the French instead of eyes,

      To weep their intermissive miseries.

      Lords, view these letters full of bad mischance.

      France is revolted from the English quite,

      Except some petty towns of no import:

      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 Alencon flieth to his side.

      The Dauphin crowned king! all fly to him!

      O, whither shall we fly from this reproach?

      We will not fly, but to our enemies' throats.

      Bedford, if thou be slack, I'll fight it out.

      Gloucester, why doubt'st thou of my forwardness?

      An army have I muster'd in my thoughts,

      Wherewith already France is overrun.

      My gracious lords, to add to your laments,

      Wherewith you now bedew King Henry's hearse,

      I must inform you of a dismal fight

      Betwixt the stout Lord Talbot and the French.

      What! wherein Talbot overcame? is't so?

      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 full scarce six thousand in his troop,

      By three and twenty thousand of the French

      Was round encompassed and set upon.

      No leisure had he to enrank his men;

      He wanted pikes to set before his archers;

      Instead whereof sharp stakes 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 with his sword and lance:

      Hundreds he sent to hell, and none durst stand him;

      Here, there, and every where, enrag'd he slew:

      The French exclaim'd, the devil was in arms;

      All the whole army stood agaz'd on him.

      His soldiers spying his undaunted spirit

      A 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, plac'd 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.

      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.

      O no, he lives; but is took prisoner,

      And Lord Scales with him, and Lord Hungerford:

      Most of the rest slaughter'd or took likewise.

      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 an Europe quake.

      So you had need; for Orleans is besieg'd;

      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

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