Читать книгу King Henry VI, First Part - Уильям Шекспир, William Szekspir, the Simon Studio - Страница 8

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.

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.

Lord Regent, and redoubted Burgundy,

By whose approach the regions of Artois,

Wallon 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

Contriv'd by art and baleful sorcery.

Coward of France, how much he wrongs his fame,

Despairing of his own arm's fortitude,

To join with witches and the help of hell!

Traitors have never other company.

But what 's that Pucelle whom they term so pure?

A maid, they say.

A maid! and be so martial!

Pray God she prove not masculine ere long,

If underneath the standard of the French

She carry armour as she hath begun.

Well, let them practice and converse with spirits:

God is our fortress, in whose conquering name

Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks.

Ascend, brave Talbot; we will follow thee.

Not all together: better far, I guess,

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.

Agreed: I 'll to yond corner.

And I to this.

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.

Arm! arm! the enemy doth make assault!

How now, my lords! what, all unready so?

Unready! aye, and glad we 'scap'd so well.

'Twas time, I trow, to wake and leave our beds,

Hearing alarums at our chamber-doors.

Of all exploits since first I follow'd arms,

Ne'er heard I of a warlike enterprise

More venturous or desperate than this.

I think this Talbot be a fiend of hell.

If not of hell, the heavens, sure, favor him.

Here cometh Charles: I marvel how he sped.

Tut, holy Joan was his defensive guard.

Is this thy cunning, thou deceitful dame?

Didst thou at first, to flatter us withal,

Make us partakers of a little gain,

That now our loss might be ten times so much?

Wherefore is Charles impatient with his friend?

At all times will you have my power alike?

Sleeping or waking must I still prevail,