The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (197 page)

Speak to Talbot, look at him.

Salisbury, comfort yourself with this;

you won't die while–

he signals with his hand and is smiling at me

as if he's saying, “when I am dead and gone,

make sure you take revenge for me on the French."

Plantagenet, I will do so; I'll be like Nero,

playing on the lute while he watches the towns burn:

France will be terrified just to hear my name.

What's this fuss? What are these storms in the heavens?

Where does all this noise and disturbance come from?

MESSENGER.

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.

My Lord, the French have formed up for an attack:

the Dauphin has come to lift the siege,

he has joined forces with one Joan la Pucelle,

a newly discovered holy prophetess.

[Here SALISBURY lifteth himself up and groans.]

TALBOT.

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,

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,

And then we 'll try what these dastard Frenchmen dare.

Listen to how the dying Salisbury groans!

He hates the fact that he cannot get revenge.

Frenchmen, I'll treat you like Salisbury would wish:

Pucelle or puzzle, dolphin or dogfish,

I'll stamp out your hearts with my horse's heels,

and make a swamp of your mixed brains.

Carry Salisbury to his tent for me,

and then we'll see what these bastard Frenchmen are made of.

[Alarum. Exeunt.]

[Here an alarum again:  and Talbot pursueth the

Dauphin, and driveth him:  then enter Joan La Pucelle,

driving Englishmen before her, and exit after them:

then re-enter Talbot.]

TALBOT.

Where is my strength, my valor, and my force?

Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them:

A woman clad in armour chaseth them.

[Re-enter La Pucelle.]

Here, here she comes. 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.

What has happened to all my brave forces?

The English troops are retreating, I cannot stop them:

a woman dressed in armour is chasing them.

Here she comes. I shall fight you;

if you are the Devil or the Devil's mother, I'll beat you:

I'll get your blood running, you are a witch,

and I'll send back your soul to the one whom you serve.

PUCELLE.

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

Come, come, I must bring you down.

[Here they fight.]

TALBOT.

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.

Heaven, will you allow hell to win like this?

I will burst open my chest testing my courage,

and let my arms break from my shoulders,

but I will punish this arrogant strumpet.

[They fight again.]

PUCELLE.

Talbot, farewell; thy hour is not yet come:

I must go victual Orleans forthwith.

[A short alarum:  then enter the town with soldiers.]

O'ertake me, if thou canst; I scorn thy strength.

Go, go, cheer up thy hungry-starved men;

Help Salisbury to make his testament:

This day is ours, as many more shall be.

Talbot, farewell; it's not your time yet:

I must go and take supplies to Orleans.

Catch me if you can; your strength means nothing to me.

Go and cheer up your starving men;

help Salisbury to make his will:

We have won today, as we shall many other days.

[Exit.]

TALBOT.

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 treacherous from the wolf,

Or horse or oxen from the leopard,

As you fly from your oft-subdued slaves.

[Alarum. Here 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 ent'red 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.

My thoughts are whirling like a potter's wheel:

I don't know where I am or what I'm doing.

This witch is  driving back our troops as Hannibal did,

through fear, not through force, and she can do as she likes:

this is the way bees are driven from their hives with smoke,

and doves are driven out of their houses with horrible smells.

Because of our fierceness they called us English dogs;

now we are running away like puppies.

Listen, countrymen–either go back to the fight

or tear those lions off your English uniforms.

Give up your country, wear sheep badges instead of lions;

sheep don't run so treacherously away from wolves,

or horses or cattle from leopards,

as you are running from this scum you have so often beaten.

It won't happen, retreat to your trenches.

You have all agreed to the death of Salisbury,

because none of you would strike a blow in revenge for him.

The Maid has gone into Orleans

in spite of us or anything that we could do.

Oh, I wish I could die alongside Salisbury:

the shame of this will make me hide my head.

[Exit Talbot. Alarum; retreat; flourish.]

[Enter, on the walls, La Pucelle, Charles,

Reignier, Alencon, and Soldiers.]

PUCELLE.

Advance our waving colours on the walls;

Rescued is Orleans from the English:

Thus Joan la Pucelle hath perform'd her word.

Put our banners up on the walls;

Orleans has been rescued from the English:

and so Joan la Pucelle has kept her word.

CHARLES.

Divinest creature, 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.

Most heavenly creature, daughter of Astraea,

how can I reward you for this success?

Your promises are like the gardens of Adonis,

that flowered one day and produced fruit the next.

France, rejoice in your glorious prophetess!

The town of Orleans has been recaptured.

Nothing better than her has ever happened to our country.

REIGNIER.

Why ring not out the bells aloud 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.

Why not ring out the bells throughout the town?

Dauphin, order the citizens to make bonfires

and to hold street parties,

to celebrate the happiness God has given us.

ALENCON.

All France will be replete with mirth and joy,

When they shall hear how we have play'd the men.

All of France will the full of happiness and laughter,

when they hear about this brave action.

CHARLES.

'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 pyramis 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

Than the rich-jewel'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.

It's Joan, not us, who has won the day;