prompt:
Chapter: ACT III. SCENE 1.

London. The Parliament House

Flourish. Enter the KING, EXETER, GLOUCESTER, WARWICK, SOMERSET,
and SUFFOLK;
the BISHOP OF WINCHESTER, RICHARD PLANTAGENET, and others.
GLOUCESTER offers to put up a bill; WINCHESTER snatches it, and
tears it

  WINCHESTER. Com'st thou with deep premeditated lines,
    With written pamphlets studiously devis'd?
    Humphrey of Gloucester, if thou canst accuse
    Or aught intend'st to lay unto my charge,
    Do it without invention, suddenly;
    I with sudden and extemporal speech
    Purpose to answer what thou canst object.
  GLOUCESTER. Presumptuous priest, this place commands my
    patience,
    Or thou shouldst find thou hast dishonour'd me.
    Think not, although in writing I preferr'd
    The manner of thy vile outrageous crimes,
    That therefore I have forg'd, or am not able
    Verbatim to rehearse the method of my pen.
    No, prelate; such is thy audacious wickedness,
    Thy lewd, pestiferous, and dissentious pranks,
    As very infants prattle of thy pride.
    Thou art a most pernicious usurer;
    Froward by nature, enemy to peace;
    Lascivious, wanton, more than well beseems
    A man of thy profession and degree;
    And for thy treachery, what's more manifest
    In that thou laid'st a trap to take my life,
    As well at London Bridge as at the Tower?
    Beside, I fear me, if thy thoughts were sifted,
    The King, thy sovereign, is not quite exempt
    From envious malice of thy swelling heart.
  WINCHESTER. Gloucester, I do defy thee. Lords, vouchsafe
    To give me hearing what I shall reply.
    If I were covetous, ambitious, or perverse,
    As he will have me, how am I so poor?
    Or how haps it I seek not to advance
    Or raise myself, but keep my wonted calling?
    And for dissension, who preferreth peace
    More than I do, except I be provok'd?
    No, my good lords, it is not that offends;
    It is not that that incens'd hath incens'd the Duke:
    It is because no one should sway but he;
    No one but he should be about the King;
    And that engenders thunder in his breast
    And makes him roar these accusations forth.
    But he shall know I am as good
  GLOUCESTER. As good!
    Thou bastard of my grandfather!
  WINCHESTER. Ay, lordly sir; for what are you, I pray,
    But one imperious in another's throne?
  GLOUCESTER. Am I not Protector, saucy priest?
  WINCHESTER. And am not I a prelate of the church?
  GLOUCESTER. Yes, as an outlaw in a castle keeps,
    And useth it to patronage his theft.
  WINCHESTER. Unreverent Gloucester!
  GLOUCESTER. Thou art reverend
    Touching thy spiritual function, not thy life.
  WINCHESTER. Rome shall remedy this.
  WARWICK. Roam thither then.
  SOMERSET. My lord, it were your duty to forbear.
  WARWICK. Ay, see the bishop be not overborne.
  SOMERSET. Methinks my lord should be religious,
    And know the office that belongs to such.
  WARWICK. Methinks his lordship should be humbler;
    It fitteth not a prelate so to plead.
  SOMERSET. Yes, when his holy state is touch'd so near.
  WARWICK. State holy or unhallow'd, what of that?
    Is not his Grace Protector to the King?
  PLANTAGENET.  [Aside]  Plantagenet, I see, must hold his
    tongue,
    Lest it be said 'Speak, sirrah, when you should;
    Must your bold verdict enter talk with lords?'
    Else would I have a fling at Winchester.
  KING HENRY. Uncles of Gloucester and of Winchester,
    The special watchmen of our English weal,
    I would prevail, if prayers might prevail
    To join your hearts in love and amity.
    O, what a scandal is it to our crown
    That two such noble peers as ye should jar!
    Believe me, lords, my tender years can tell
    Civil dissension is a viperous worm
    That gnaws the bowels of the commonwealth.
                  [A noise within: 'Down with the tawny coats!']
    What tumult's this?
  WARWICK. An uproar, I dare warrant,
    Begun through malice of the Bishop's men.
                              [A noise again: 'Stones! Stones!']

                Enter the MAYOR OF LONDON, attended

  MAYOR. O, my good lords, and virtuous Henry,
    Pity the city of London, pity us!
    The Bishop and the Duke of Gloucester's men,
    Forbidden late to carry any weapon,
    Have fill'd their pockets full of pebble stones
    And, banding themselves in contrary parts,
    Do pelt so fast at one another's pate
    That many have their giddy brains knock'd out.
    Our windows are broke down in every street,
    And we for fear compell'd to shut our shops.

        Enter in skirmish, the retainers of GLOUCESTER and
               WINCHESTER, with bloody pates

  KING HENRY. We charge you, on allegiance to ourself,
    To hold your slaught'ring hands and keep the peace.
    Pray, uncle Gloucester, mitigate this strife.
  FIRST SERVING-MAN. Nay, if we be forbidden stones, we'll
    fall to it with our teeth.
  SECOND SERVING-MAN. Do what ye dare, we are as resolute.
                                                [Skirmish again]
  GLOUCESTER. You of my household, leave this peevish broil,
    And set this unaccustom'd fight aside.
  THIRD SERVING-MAN. My lord, we know your Grace to be a
    man
    Just and upright, and for your royal birth
    Inferior to none but to his Majesty;
    And ere that we will suffer such a prince,
    So kind a father of the commonweal,
    To be disgraced by an inkhorn mate,
    We and our wives and children all will fight
    And have our bodies slaught'red by thy foes.
  FIRST SERVING-MAN. Ay, and the very parings of our nails
    Shall pitch a field when we are dead.          [Begin again]
  GLOUCESTER. Stay, stay, I say!
    And if you love me, as you say you do,
    Let me persuade you to forbear awhile.
  KING HENRY. O, how this discord doth afflict my soul!
    Can you, my Lord of Winchester, behold
    My sighs and tears and will not once relent?
    Who should be pitiful, if you be not?
    Or who should study to prefer a peace,
    If holy churchmen take delight in broils?
  WARWICK. Yield, my Lord Protector; yield, Winchester;
    Except you mean with obstinate repulse
    To slay your sovereign and destroy the realm.
    You see what mischief, and what murder too,
    Hath been enacted through your enmity;
    Then be at peace, except ye thirst for blood.
  WINCHESTER. He shall submit, or I will never yield.
  GLOUCESTER. Compassion on the King commands me stoop,
    Or I would see his heart out ere the priest
    Should ever get that privilege of me.
  WARWICK. Behold, my Lord of Winchester, the Duke
    Hath banish'd moody discontented fury,
    As by his smoothed brows it doth appear;
    Why look you still so stem and tragical?
  GLOUCESTER. Here, Winchester, I offer thee my hand.
  KING HENRY. Fie, uncle Beaufort! I have heard you preach
    That malice was a great and grievous sin;
    And will not you maintain the thing you teach,
    But prove a chief offender in the same?
  WARWICK. Sweet King! The Bishop hath a kindly gird.
    For shame, my Lord of Winchester, relent;
    What, shall a child instruct you what to do?
  WINCHESTER. Well, Duke of Gloucester, I will yield to thee;
    Love for thy love and hand for hand I give.
  GLOUCESTER  [Aside]  Ay, but, I fear me, with a hollow
    heart.
    See here, my friends and loving countrymen:
    This token serveth for a flag of truce
    Betwixt ourselves and all our followers.
    So help me God, as I dissemble not!
  WINCHESTER  [Aside]  So help me God, as I intend it not!
  KING HENRY. O loving uncle, kind Duke of Gloucester,
    How joyful am I made by this contract!
    Away, my masters! trouble us no more;
    But join in friendship, as your lords have done.
  FIRST SERVING-MAN. Content: I'll to the surgeon's.
  SECOND SERVING-MAN. And so will I.
  THIRD SERVING-MAN. And I will see what physic the tavern
    affords.                         Exeunt servants, MAYOR, &C.
  WARWICK. Accept this scroll, most gracious sovereign;
    Which in the right of Richard Plantagenet
    We do exhibit to your Majesty.
  GLOUCESTER. Well urg'd, my Lord of Warwick; for, sweet
    prince,
    An if your Grace mark every circumstance,
    You have great reason to do Richard right;
    Especially for those occasions
    At Eltham Place I told your Majesty.
  KING HENRY. And those occasions, uncle, were of force;
    Therefore, my loving lords, our pleasure is
    That Richard be restored to his blood.
  WARWICK. Let Richard be restored to his blood;
    So shall his father's wrongs be recompens'd.
  WINCHESTER. As will the rest, so willeth Winchester.
  KING HENRY. If Richard will be true, not that alone
    But all the whole inheritance I give
    That doth belong unto the house of York,
    From whence you spring by lineal descent.
  PLANTAGENET. Thy humble servant vows obedience
    And humble service till the point of death.
  KING HENRY. Stoop then and set your knee against my foot;
    And in reguerdon of that duty done
    I girt thee with the valiant sword of York.
    Rise, Richard, like a true Plantagenet,
    And rise created princely Duke of York.
  PLANTAGENET. And so thrive Richard as thy foes may fall!
    And as my duty springs, so perish they
    That grudge one thought against your Majesty!
  ALL. Welcome, high Prince, the mighty Duke of York!
  SOMERSET.  [Aside]  Perish, base Prince, ignoble Duke of
    York!
  GLOUCESTER. Now will it best avail your Majesty
    To cross the seas and to be crown'd in France:
    The presence of a king engenders love
    Amongst his subjects and his loyal friends,
    As it disanimates his enemies.
  KING HENRY. When Gloucester says the word, King Henry
    goes;
    For friendly counsel cuts off many foes.
  GLOUCESTER. Your ships already are in readiness.
                         Sennet. Flourish. Exeunt all but EXETER
  EXETER. Ay, we may march in England or in France,
    Not seeing what is likely to ensue.
    This late dissension grown betwixt the peers
    Burns under feigned ashes of forg'd love
    And will at last break out into a flame;
    As fest'red members rot but by degree
    Till bones and flesh and sinews fall away,
    So will this base and envious discord breed.
    And now I fear that fatal prophecy.
    Which in the time of Henry nam'd the Fifth
    Was in the mouth of every sucking babe:
    That Henry born at Monmouth should win all,
    And Henry born at Windsor should lose all.
    Which is so plain that Exeter doth wish
    His days may finish ere that hapless time.              Exit

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Young King Henry enters the Parliament house, along with many lords, including Exeter, Gloucester, Winchester, Somerset, Suffolk, Warwick, and Richard Plantagenet. Gloucester tries to post a bill, but Winchester seizes it and tears it up, accusing him of coming with prewritten remarks and of being unable to speak extemporaneously. Gloucester accuses Winchester of underhanded treachery--of having plotted to kill him at London Bridge as well as at the tower. Gloucester says Winchester is greedy, but Winchester asks how he can aim so high when he is still so poor. Winchester declares that his behavior cannot be so upsetting in itself; rather, Gloucester can't stand the idea that anyone else would have influence over the king. The two men insult each other, Gloucester declaring himself as superior in his position as Protector, and Winchester declaring his own superiority as head of the Church. The other nobles step in and stop the argument. Henry asks the two men to try to make peace, saying: "O what a scandal it is to our crown / That two such noble peers as ye should jar! / Believe me, lords, my tender years can tell / Civil dissention is a viperous worm / That gnaws at the bowels of the commonwealth". The mayor of London enters to tell of how Winchester and Gloucester's men, forbidden to use weapons in their conflict, now chase each other around the city, hurling rocks at each other. The battling servants enter the court, where the king orders them to cease fighting, yet they continue. Gloucester orders them to stop, and yet they still do not desist. Henry asks Winchester to order his men to yield, but Winchester says he will never yield until Gloucester submits. Gloucester offers Winchester his hand in conciliation, and after some urging by the king, Winchester agrees. They shake hands, yet mutter to themselves that the argument is not yet over. Warwick then presents a request from Plantagenet in a scroll: Plantagenet wants to be restored to his hereditary rights. The king says that he will not only restore him to the earldom of Cambridge , but he will also give him the dukedom of York . Plantagenet thanks the king, then kneels down to be installed as the Duke of York. Everyone cheers for him, except Somerset, who curses him under his breath. Gloucester urges the king to cross the sea to France and be crowned as king there; he hopes this will establish English control over France once and for all. The king thanks Gloucester for his friendly counsel, and he departs with the other lords. Exeter remains to comment on the scene. He says the nobles will march to France blindly: they do not see that these disagreements between the lords, now reduced to a slow burn, will someday break into open flame . And just as parts of a dead body rot little by little, so this discord will slowly destroy the kingdom. He refers to a prophecy once widely circulated in the time of Henry V, that Henry V should win everything, while Henry VI would lose it all. Exeter wishes he might die before he sees such unhappy conclusions.


prompt:
Chapter: SCENE 2.

                      France. Before Rouen

       Enter LA PUCELLE disguis'd, with four soldiers dressed
            like countrymen, with sacks upon their backs

  PUCELLE. These are the city gates, the gates of Rouen,
    Through which our policy must make a breach.
    Take heed, be wary how you place your words;
    Talk like the vulgar sort of market-men
    That come to gather money for their corn.
    If we have entrance, as I hope we shall,
    And that we find the slothful watch but weak,
    I'll by a sign give notice to our friends,
    That Charles the Dauphin may encounter them.
  FIRST SOLDIER. Our sacks shall be a mean to sack the city,
    And we be lords and rulers over Rouen;
    Therefore we'll knock.                              [Knocks]
  WATCH.  [Within]  Qui est la?
  PUCELLE. Paysans, pauvres gens de France
    Poor market-folks that come to sell their corn.
  WATCH. Enter, go in; the market-bell is rung.
  PUCELLE. Now, Rouen, I'll shake thy bulwarks to the
    ground.

                               [LA PUCELLE, &c., enter the town]

        Enter CHARLES, BASTARD, ALENCON, REIGNIER, and forces

  CHARLES. Saint Denis bless this happy stratagem!
    And once again we'll sleep secure in Rouen.
  BASTARD. Here ent'red Pucelle and her practisants;
    Now she is there, how will she specify
    Here is the best and safest passage in?
  ALENCON. By thrusting out a torch from yonder tower;
    Which once discern'd shows that her meaning is
    No way to that, for weakness, which she ent'red.

             Enter LA PUCELLE, on the top, thrusting out
                         a torch burning

  PUCELLE. Behold, this is the happy wedding torch
    That joineth Rouen unto her countrymen,
    But burning fatal to the Talbotites.                    Exit
  BASTARD. See, noble Charles, the beacon of our friend;
    The burning torch in yonder turret stands.
  CHARLES. Now shine it like a comet of revenge,
    A prophet to the fall of all our foes!
  ALENCON. Defer no time, delays have dangerous ends;
    Enter, and cry 'The Dauphin!' presently,
    And then do execution on the watch.

Alarum.           Exeunt

              An alarum. Enter TALBOT in an excursion

  TALBOT. France, thou shalt rue this treason with thy tears,
    If Talbot but survive thy treachery.
  PUCELLE, that witch, that damned sorceress,
    Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares,
    That hardly we escap'd the pride of France.             Exit

        An alarum; excursions. BEDFORD brought in sick in
          a chair. Enter TALBOT and BURGUNDY without;
         within, LA PUCELLE, CHARLES, BASTARD, ALENCON,
                 and REIGNIER, on the walls

  PUCELLE. Good morrow, gallants! Want ye corn for bread?
    I think the Duke of Burgundy will fast
    Before he'll buy again at such a rate.
    'Twas full of darnel--do you like the taste?
  BURGUNDY. Scoff on, vile fiend and shameless courtezan.
    I trust ere long to choke thee with thine own,
    And make thee curse the harvest of that corn.
  CHARLES. Your Grace may starve, perhaps, before that time.
  BEDFORD. O, let no words, but deeds, revenge this treason!
  PUCELLE. What you do, good grey beard? Break a
    lance,
    And run a tilt at death within a chair?
  TALBOT. Foul fiend of France and hag of all despite,
    Encompass'd with thy lustful paramours,
    Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age
    And twit with cowardice a man half dead?
    Damsel, I'll have a bout with you again,
    Or else let Talbot perish with this shame.
  PUCELLE. Are ye so hot, sir? Yet, Pucelle, hold thy peace;
    If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow.
                 [The English party whisper together in council]
    God speed the parliament! Who shall be the Speaker?
  TALBOT. Dare ye come forth and meet us in the field?
  PUCELLE. Belike your lordship takes us then for fools,
    To try if that our own be ours or no.
  TALBOT. I speak not to that railing Hecate,
    But unto thee, Alencon, and the rest.
    Will ye, like soldiers, come and fight it out?
  ALENCON. Signior, no.
  TALBOT. Signior, hang! Base muleteers of France!
    Like peasant foot-boys do they keep the walls,
    And dare not take up arms like gentlemen.
  PUCELLE. Away, captains! Let's get us from the walls;
    For Talbot means no goodness by his looks.
    God b'uy, my lord; we came but to tell you
    That we are here.                      Exeunt from the walls

  TALBOT. And there will we be too, ere it be long,
    Or else reproach be Talbot's greatest fame!
    Vow, Burgundy, by honour of thy house,
    Prick'd on by public wrongs sustain'd in France,
    Either to get the town again or die;
    And I, as sure as English Henry lives
    And as his father here was conqueror,
    As sure as in this late betrayed town
    Great Coeur-de-lion's heart was buried
    So sure I swear to get the town or die.
  BURGUNDY. My vows are equal partners with thy vows.
  TALBOT. But ere we go, regard this dying prince,
    The valiant Duke of Bedford. Come, my lord,
    We will bestow you in some better place,
    Fitter for sickness and for crazy age.
  BEDFORD. Lord Talbot, do not so dishonour me;
    Here will I sit before the walls of Rouen,
    And will be partner of your weal or woe.
  BURGUNDY. Courageous Bedford, let us now persuade you.
  BEDFORD. Not to be gone from hence; for once I read
    That stout Pendragon in his litter sick
    Came to the field, and vanquished his foes.
    Methinks I should revive the soldiers' hearts,
    Because I ever found them as myself.
  TALBOT. Undaunted spirit in a dying breast!
    Then be it so. Heavens keep old Bedford safe!
    And now no more ado, brave Burgundy,
    But gather we our forces out of hand
    And set upon our boasting enemy.
          Exeunt against the town all but BEDFORD and attendants

           An alarum; excursions. Enter SIR JOHN FASTOLFE,
                           and a CAPTAIN

  CAPTAIN. Whither away, Sir John Fastolfe, in such haste?
  FASTOLFE. Whither away? To save myself by flight:
    We are like to have the overthrow again.
  CAPTAIN. What! Will you and leave Lord Talbot?
  FASTOLFE. Ay,
    All the Talbots in the world, to save my life.          Exit

  CAPTAIN. Cowardly knight! ill fortune follow thee!
                                              Exit into the town

         Retreat; excursions. LA PUCELLE, ALENCON,
                      and CHARLES fly

  BEDFORD. Now, quiet soul, depart when heaven please,
    For I have seen our enemies' overthrow.
    What is the trust or strength of foolish man?
    They that of late were daring with their scoffs
    Are glad and fain by flight to save themselves.
            [BEDFORD dies and is carried in by two in his chair]

          An alarum. Re-enter TALBOT, BURGUNDY, and the rest

  TALBOT. Lost and recovered in a day again!
    This is a double honour, Burgundy.
    Yet heavens have glory for this victory!
  BURGUNDY. Warlike and martial Talbot, Burgundy
    Enshrines thee in his heart, and there erects
    Thy noble deeds as valour's monuments.
  TALBOT. Thanks, gentle Duke. But where is Pucelle now?
    I think her old familiar is asleep.
    Now where's the Bastard's braves, and Charles his gleeks?
    What, all amort? Rouen hangs her head for grief
    That such a valiant company are fled.
    Now will we take some order in the town,
    Placing therein some expert officers;
    And then depart to Paris to the King,
    For there young Henry with his nobles lie.
  BURGUNDY. What Lord Talbot pleaseth Burgundy.
  TALBOT. But yet, before we go, let's not forget
    The noble Duke of Bedford, late deceas'd,
    But see his exequies fulfill'd in Rouen.
    A braver soldier never couched lance,
    A gentler heart did never sway in court;
    But kings and mightiest potentates must die,
    For that's the end of human misery.                   Exeunt

SCENE 3.

                      The plains near Rouen

        Enter CHARLES, the BASTARD, ALENCON, LA PUCELLE,
                          and forces

  PUCELLE. Dismay not, Princes, at this accident,
    Nor grieve that Rouen is so recovered.
    Care is no cure, but rather corrosive,
    For things that are not to be remedied.
    Let frantic Talbot triumph for a while
    And like a peacock sweep along his tail;
    We'll pull his plumes and take away his train,
    If Dauphin and the rest will be but rul'd.
  CHARLES. We have guided by thee hitherto,
    And of thy cunning had no diffidence;
    One sudden foil shall never breed distrust
  BASTARD. Search out thy wit for secret policies,
    And we will make thee famous through the world.
    ALENCON. We'll set thy statue in some holy place,
    And have thee reverenc'd like a blessed saint.
    Employ thee, then, sweet virgin, for our good.
  PUCELLE. Then thus it must be; this doth Joan devise:
    By fair persuasions, mix'd with sug'red words,
    We will entice the Duke of Burgundy
    To leave the Talbot and to follow us.
  CHARLES. Ay, marry, sweeting, if we could do that,
    France were no place for Henry's warriors;
    Nor should that nation boast it so with us,
    But be extirped from our provinces.
  ALENCON. For ever should they be expuls'd from France,
    And not have tide of an earldom here.
  PUCELLE. Your honours shall perceive how I will work
    To bring this matter to the wished end.
                                          [Drum sounds afar off]
    Hark! by the sound of drum you may perceive
    Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward.

          Here sound an English march. Enter, and pass over
                at a distance, TALBOT and his forces

    There goes the Talbot, with his colours spread,
    And all the troops of English after him.

            French march. Enter the DUKE OF BURGUNDY and
                         his forces

    Now in the rearward comes the Duke and his.
    Fortune in favour makes him lag behind.
    Summon a parley; we will talk with him.
                                       [Trumpets sound a parley]
  CHARLES. A parley with the Duke of Burgundy!
  BURGUNDY. Who craves a parley with the Burgundy?
  PUCELLE. The princely Charles of France, thy countryman.
  BURGUNDY. What say'st thou, Charles? for I am marching
    hence.
  CHARLES. Speak, Pucelle, and enchant him with thy words.
  PUCELLE. Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France!
    Stay, let thy humble handmaid speak to thee.
  BURGUNDY. Speak on; but be not over-tedious.
  PUCELLE. Look on thy country, look on fertile France,
    And see the cities and the towns defac'd
    By wasting ruin of the cruel foe;
    As looks the mother on her lowly babe
    When death doth close his tender dying eyes,
    See, see the pining malady of France;
    Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds,
    Which thou thyself hast given her woeful breast.
    O, turn thy edged sword another way;
    Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that help!
    One drop of blood drawn from thy country's bosom
    Should grieve thee more than streams of foreign gore.
    Return thee therefore with a flood of tears,
    And wash away thy country's stained spots.
  BURGUNDY. Either she hath bewitch'd me with her words,
    Or nature makes me suddenly relent.
  PUCELLE. Besides, all French and France exclaims on thee,
    Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny.
    Who join'st thou with but with a lordly nation
    That will not trust thee but for profit's sake?
    When Talbot hath set footing once in France,
    And fashion'd thee that instrument of ill,
    Who then but English Henry will be lord,
    And thou be thrust out like a fugitive?
    Call we to mind-and mark but this for proof:
    Was not the Duke of Orleans thy foe?
    And was he not in England prisoner?
    But when they heard he was thine enemy
    They set him free without his ransom paid,
    In spite of Burgundy and all his friends.
    See then, thou fight'st against thy countrymen,
    And join'st with them will be thy slaughtermen.
    Come, come, return; return, thou wandering lord;
    Charles and the rest will take thee in their arms.
  BURGUNDY. I am vanquished; these haughty words of hers
    Have batt'red me like roaring cannon-shot
    And made me almost yield upon my knees.
    Forgive me, country, and sweet countrymen
    And, lords, accept this hearty kind embrace.
    My forces and my power of men are yours;
    So, farewell, Talbot; I'll no longer trust thee.
  PUCELLE. Done like a Frenchman-  [Aside]  turn and turn
    again.
  CHARLES. Welcome, brave Duke! Thy friendship makes us
    fresh.
  BASTARD. And doth beget new courage in our breasts.
  ALENCON. Pucelle hath bravely play'd her part in this,
    And doth deserve a coronet of gold.
  CHARLES. Now let us on, my lords, and join our powers,
    And seek how we may prejudice the foe.                Exeunt

SCENE 4.

                     Paris. The palace

         Enter the KING, GLOUCESTER, WINCHESTER, YORK,
             SUFFOLK, SOMERSET, WARWICK, EXETER,
           VERNON, BASSET, and others. To them, with
                     his soldiers, TALBOT

  TALBOT. My gracious Prince, and honourable peers,
    Hearing of your arrival in this realm,
    I have awhile given truce unto my wars
    To do my duty to my sovereign;
    In sign whereof, this arm that hath reclaim'd
    To your obedience fifty fortresses,
    Twelve cities, and seven walled towns of strength,
    Beside five hundred prisoners of esteem,
    Lets fall his sword before your Highness' feet,
    And with submissive loyalty of heart
    Ascribes the glory of his conquest got
    First to my God and next unto your Grace.           [Kneels]
  KING HENRY. Is this the Lord Talbot, uncle Gloucester,
    That hath so long been resident in France?
  GLOUCESTER. Yes, if it please your Majesty, my liege.
  KING HENRY. Welcome, brave captain and victorious lord!
    When I was young, as yet I am not old,
    I do remember how my father said
    A stouter champion never handled sword.
    Long since we were resolved of your truth,
    Your faithful service, and your toil in war;
    Yet never have you tasted our reward,
    Or been reguerdon'd with so much as thanks,
    Because till now we never saw your face.
    Therefore stand up; and for these good deserts
    We here create you Earl of Shrewsbury;
    And in our coronation take your place.
              Sennet. Flourish. Exeunt all but VERNON and BASSET
  VERNON. Now, sir, to you, that were so hot at sea,
    Disgracing of these colours that I wear
    In honour of my noble Lord of York
    Dar'st thou maintain the former words thou spak'st?
  BASSET. Yes, sir; as well as you dare patronage
    The envious barking of your saucy tongue
    Against my lord the Duke of Somerset.
  VERNON. Sirrah, thy lord I honour as he is.
  BASSET. Why, what is he? As good a man as York!
  VERNON. Hark ye: not so. In witness, take ye that.
                                                   [Strikes him]
  BASSET. Villain, thou knowest the law of arms is such
    That whoso draws a sword 'tis present death,
    Or else this blow should broach thy dearest blood.
    But I'll unto his Majesty and crave
    I may have liberty to venge this wrong;
    When thou shalt see I'll meet thee to thy cost.
  VERNON. Well, miscreant, I'll be there as soon as you;
    And, after, meet you sooner than you would.           Exeunt

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Joan and several of her soldiers gather outside the gates of Rouen disguised as peasants. She tells them to wander the city quietly and look for ways to attack the city in force. Charles and his lords Alencon, Rene and the Bastard of Orleans wait outside the city. Charles wonders how they will know when to attack, when Joan appears with a torch on the city walls. The lords immediately launch their forces. Meanwhile, Talbot discovers the attack in progress and curses Joan, the sorceress whom he blames for his forces' weakened state. Burgundy and Talbot are within Rouen, along with Bedford, who is ill and propped up in a chair. Meanwhile, the French lords are assembled outside the city. Joan and Charles taunt the English, and Talbot curses Joan for singling out the valiant-but-weak Bedford for mockery. Talbot asks the French if they will dare meet in the field to fight an honest battle. Joan says no, but Talbot says he wasn't talking to her, but to the "real" soldiers, meaning the other French lords. However, they refuse, as well. Talbot scorns them for refusing to fight like gentlemen. Joan and the other Frenchmen depart, saying that she came to speak to Talbot only to remind him of their presence. Talbot is angered that they reproach his fame and scorn the honor of Bedford. He swears by King Henry and by his father, Henry V, that he will get the town back or die trying. Bedford echoes him. Talbot asks Burgundy to help him move the ill and aged Bedford to a safer place, but Bedford says he would be ashamed to be anywhere but here, near his men. Talbot is impressed by Bedford's indomitable spirit, and he lets him stay near the fight. The English lords exit, and Sir John Fastolf runs onstage. A soldier asks him where he is going, and he declares that he believes the English are about to be defeated; he is fleeing to save his life. Meanwhile, offstage, the British troops chase away Joan and her French forces, to Bedford's great satisfaction. Now, he says, he can die, having seen the enemy overthrown.


prompt:
Chapter: ACT IV. SCENE 1.

Park. The palace

Enter the KING, GLOUCESTER, WINCHESTER, YORK, SUFFOLK, SOMERSET,
WARWICK, TALBOT, EXETER, the GOVERNOR OF PARIS, and others

  GLOUCESTER. Lord Bishop, set the crown upon his head.
  WINCHESTER. God save King Henry, of that name the Sixth!
  GLOUCESTER. Now, Governor of Paris, take your oath
                                               [GOVERNOR kneels]
    That you elect no other king but him,
    Esteem none friends but such as are his friends,
    And none your foes but such as shall pretend
    Malicious practices against his state.
    This shall ye do, so help you righteous God!
                                   Exeunt GOVERNOR and his train

                    Enter SIR JOHN FASTOLFE

  FASTOLFE. My gracious sovereign, as I rode from Calais,
    To haste unto your coronation,
    A letter was deliver'd to my hands,
    Writ to your Grace from th' Duke of Burgundy.
  TALBOT. Shame to the Duke of Burgundy and thee!
    I vow'd, base knight, when I did meet thee next
    To tear the Garter from thy craven's leg,  [Plucking it off]
    Which I have done, because unworthily
    Thou wast installed in that high degree.
    Pardon me, princely Henry, and the rest:
    This dastard, at the battle of Patay,
    When but in all I was six thousand strong,
    And that the French were almost ten to one,
    Before we met or that a stroke was given,
    Like to a trusty squire did run away;
    In which assault we lost twelve hundred men;
    Myself and divers gentlemen beside
    Were there surpris'd and taken prisoners.
    Then judge, great lords, if I have done amiss,
    Or whether that such cowards ought to wear
    This ornament of knighthood--yea or no.
  GLOUCESTER. To say the truth, this fact was infamous
    And ill beseeming any common man,
    Much more a knight, a captain, and a leader.
  TALBOT. When first this order was ordain'd, my lords,
    Knights of the Garter were of noble birth,
    Valiant and virtuous, full of haughty courage,
    Such as were grown to credit by the wars;
    Not fearing death nor shrinking for distress,
    But always resolute in most extremes.
    He then that is not furnish'd in this sort
    Doth but usurp the sacred name of knight,
    Profaning this most honourable order,
    And should, if I were worthy to be judge,
    Be quite degraded, like a hedge-born swain
    That doth presume to boast of gentle blood.
  KING HENRY. Stain to thy countrymen, thou hear'st thy
    doom.
    Be packing, therefore, thou that wast a knight;
    Henceforth we banish thee on pain of death.
                                                   Exit FASTOLFE

    And now, my Lord Protector, view the letter
    Sent from our uncle Duke of Burgundy.
  GLOUCESTER.  [Viewing the superscription]  What means his
    Grace, that he hath chang'd his style?
    No more but plain and bluntly 'To the King!'
    Hath he forgot he is his sovereign?
    Or doth this churlish superscription
    Pretend some alteration in good-will?
    What's here?  [Reads]  'I have, upon especial cause,
    Mov'd with compassion of my country's wreck,
    Together with the pitiful complaints
    Of such as your oppression feeds upon,
    Forsaken your pernicious faction,
    And join'd with Charles, the rightful King of France.'
    O monstrous treachery! Can this be so
    That in alliance, amity, and oaths,
    There should be found such false dissembling guile?
  KING HENRY. What! Doth my uncle Burgundy revolt?
  GLOUCESTER. He doth, my lord, and is become your foe.
  KING HENRY. Is that the worst this letter doth contain?
  GLOUCESTER. It is the worst, and all, my lord, he writes.
  KING HENRY. Why then Lord Talbot there shall talk with
    him
    And give him chastisement for this abuse.
    How say you, my lord, are you not content?
  TALBOT. Content, my liege! Yes; but that I am prevented,
    I should have begg'd I might have been employ'd.
  KING HENRY. Then gather strength and march unto him
    straight;
    Let him perceive how ill we brook his treason.
    And what offence it is to flout his friends.
  TALBOT. I go, my lord, in heart desiring still
    You may behold confusion of your foes.                  Exit

                       Enter VERNON and BASSET

  VERNON. Grant me the combat, gracious sovereign.
  BASSET. And me, my lord, grant me the combat too.
  YORK. This is my servant: hear him, noble Prince.
  SOMERSET. And this is mine: sweet Henry, favour him.
  KING HENRY. Be patient, lords, and give them leave to speak.
    Say, gentlemen, what makes you thus exclaim,
    And wherefore crave you combat, or with whom?
  VERNON. With him, my lord; for he hath done me wrong.
  BASSET. And I with him; for he hath done me wrong.
  KING HENRY. What is that wrong whereof you both
    complain? First let me know, and then I'll answer you.
  BASSET. Crossing the sea from England into France,
    This fellow here, with envious carping tongue,
    Upbraided me about the rose I wear,
    Saying the sanguine colour of the leaves
    Did represent my master's blushing cheeks
    When stubbornly he did repugn the truth
    About a certain question in the law
    Argu'd betwixt the Duke of York and him;
    With other vile and ignominious terms
    In confutation of which rude reproach
    And in defence of my lord's worthiness,
    I crave the benefit of law of arms.
  VERNON. And that is my petition, noble lord;
    For though he seem with forged quaint conceit
    To set a gloss upon his bold intent,
    Yet know, my lord, I was provok'd by him,
    And he first took exceptions at this badge,
    Pronouncing that the paleness of this flower
    Bewray'd the faintness of my master's heart.
  YORK. Will not this malice, Somerset, be left?
  SOMERSET. Your private grudge, my Lord of York, will out,
    Though ne'er so cunningly you smother it.
  KING HENRY. Good Lord, what madness rules in brainsick
    men, When for so slight and frivolous a cause
    Such factious emulations shall arise!
    Good cousins both, of York and Somerset,
    Quiet yourselves, I pray, and be at peace.
  YORK. Let this dissension first be tried by fight,
    And then your Highness shall command a peace.
  SOMERSET. The quarrel toucheth none but us alone;
    Betwixt ourselves let us decide it then.
  YORK. There is my pledge; accept it, Somerset.
  VERNON. Nay, let it rest where it began at first.
  BASSET. Confirm it so, mine honourable lord.
  GLOUCESTER. Confirm it so? Confounded be your strife;
    And perish ye, with your audacious prate!
    Presumptuous vassals, are you not asham'd
    With this immodest clamorous outrage
    To trouble and disturb the King and us?
    And you, my lords--methinks you do not well
    To bear with their perverse objections,
    Much less to take occasion from their mouths
    To raise a mutiny betwixt yourselves.
    Let me persuade you take a better course.
  EXETER. It grieves his Highness. Good my lords, be friends.
  KING HENRY. Come hither, you that would be combatants:
    Henceforth I charge you, as you love our favour,
    Quite to forget this quarrel and the cause.
    And you, my lords, remember where we are:
    In France, amongst a fickle wavering nation;
    If they perceive dissension in our looks
    And that within ourselves we disagree,
    How will their grudging stomachs be provok'd
    To wilful disobedience, and rebel!
    Beside, what infamy will there arise
    When foreign princes shall be certified
    That for a toy, a thing of no regard,
    King Henry's peers and chief nobility
    Destroy'd themselves and lost the realm of France!
    O, think upon the conquest of my father,
    My tender years; and let us not forgo
    That for a trifle that was bought with blood!
    Let me be umpire in this doubtful strife.
    I see no reason, if I wear this rose,
                                         [Putting on a red rose]
    That any one should therefore be suspicious
    I more incline to Somerset than York:
    Both are my kinsmen, and I love them both.
    As well they may upbraid me with my crown,
    Because, forsooth, the King of Scots is crown'd.
    But your discretions better can persuade
    Than I am able to instruct or teach;
    And, therefore, as we hither came in peace,
    So let us still continue peace and love.
    Cousin of York, we institute your Grace
    To be our Regent in these parts of France.
    And, good my Lord of Somerset, unite
    Your troops of horsemen with his bands of foot;
    And like true subjects, sons of your progenitors,
    Go cheerfully together and digest
    Your angry choler on your enemies.
    Ourself, my Lord Protector, and the rest,
    After some respite will return to Calais;
    From thence to England, where I hope ere long
    To be presented by your victories
    With Charles, Alencon, and that traitorous rout.
                         Flourish. Exeunt all but YORK, WARWICK,
                                                  EXETER, VERNON
  WARWICK. My Lord of York, I promise you, the King
    Prettily, methought, did play the orator.
  YORK. And so he did; but yet I like it not,
    In that he wears the badge of Somerset.
  WARWICK. Tush, that was but his fancy; blame him not;
    I dare presume, sweet prince, he thought no harm.
  YORK. An if I wist he did-but let it rest;
    Other affairs must now be managed.
                                           Exeunt all but EXETER
  EXETER. Well didst thou, Richard, to suppress thy voice;
    For had the passions of thy heart burst out,
    I fear we should have seen decipher'd there
    More rancorous spite, more furious raging broils,
    Than yet can be imagin'd or suppos'd.
    But howsoe'er, no simple man that sees
    This jarring discord of nobility,
    This shouldering of each other in the court,
    This factious bandying of their favourites,
    But that it doth presage some ill event.
    'Tis much when sceptres are in children's hands;
    But more when envy breeds unkind division:
    There comes the ruin, there begins confusion.           Exit

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: In Paris, Henry enters with his lords Gloucester, Winchester, Exeter, York, Warwick, Suffolk, Somerset, Talbot, and the Governor of Paris. Winchester crowns Henry as the king. Gloucester asks the Governor of Paris to swear allegiance to him and no other. Just then Sir John Fastolf enters with a letter from Burgundy. Talbot sees Fastolf and is enraged because of his cowardice at previous battles. Fastolf wears a Garter on his leg marking him as a member of the Order of the Garter; now Talbot rips this off him: Talbot tells Henry about Fastolf's flight from battle when the British were heavily outnumbered and when he and many other soldiers were taken prisoner; he says that membership in the Order of the Garter used to be awarded to men of noble birth, who were virtuous and who didn't fear death, but Fastolf is not this sort of man, and he sullies the title of knight. Henry calls Fastolf a stain to his countrymen and banishes him. Gloucester then reads Burgundy's letter, in which he announces his intention of joining Charles and abandoning Henry. Henry asks Talbot to march to Burgundy and talk to him, to find out what has driven Burgundy to insult his friends. Talbot departs. Vernon and Basset enter to ask the king for the right to have an armed fight. York asks the king to hear his servant, and Somerset asks him to hear his. Henry inquires into the nature of their complaint. Basset says that, while crossing the Channel, Vernon ridiculed him for the color of his rose, and Vernon says the same of Basset. York asks Somerset to put aside his malice, but Somerset says that York's private grudge will be revealed. Henry marvels at the madness that drives these men to develop such decisive splits for frivolous causes. He asks York and Somerset to overlook their differences and be at peace. York says that the disagreement should be settled first with this fight; Somerset says the disagreement is between only them, and they alone should decide it. Gloucester scolds the lords, saying they should be ashamed for so troubling the king with this ridiculous argument. Exeter urges them to be friends. Henry orders York and Somerset to forget their quarrel and to remember where they are. Here in France, "amongst a fickle and wavering nation", the lords must make an effort not to reveal dissention, for if the French see disagreements among the English forces, then they will again dare rebellion. What a scandal it would be, he says, for leaders of other nations to hear that Henry's men lost France and destroyed themselves over a trifling argument! He reminds them that they must not lose the land that was won with so much bloodshed. Henry takes a red rose from Somerset, saying "I see no reason, if I wear this rose / That anyone should therefore be suspicious / I more incline to Somerset than York. / Both are my kinsmen, and I love them both". Henry determines to persuade them to better behavior by offering them both important positions in the French campaign. He makes York leader of the troops in that part of France, and he orders Somerset to unite the horsemen and the infantry. He urges them to use up their anger against the enemy rather than against each other. Henry and most of his nobles leave. York, Warwick, Vernon, and Exeter remain. They agree that the king spoke eloquently, but York doesn't like it that he chose the red rose of Somerset. Warwick says the king meant no harm. All exit except Exeter, who notes that York did well to keep his complaints to himself while Henry was there. Exeter says that no one yet understands that the arguments among the lords, "this jarring discord of nobility, / This shouldering of each other in the court, / This factious bandying of their favourites, / that it doth presage some ill event". England faces enough of a challenge, Exeter notes, when the crown sits on the head of a youthful and inexperienced king, but it faces doom when division is bred of envy and malice. What begins in confusion will end in ruin, he predicts.


prompt:
Chapter: SCENE 2.

                        France. Before Bordeaux

                   Enter TALBOT, with trump and drum

  TALBOT. Go to the gates of Bordeaux, trumpeter;
    Summon their general unto the wall.

             Trumpet sounds a parley. Enter, aloft, the
                 GENERAL OF THE FRENCH, and others

    English John Talbot, Captains, calls you forth,
    Servant in arms to Harry King of England;
    And thus he would open your city gates,
    Be humble to us, call my sovereign yours
    And do him homage as obedient subjects,
    And I'll withdraw me and my bloody power;
    But if you frown upon this proffer'd peace,
    You tempt the fury of my three attendants,
    Lean famine, quartering steel, and climbing fire;
    Who in a moment even with the earth
    Shall lay your stately and air braving towers,
    If you forsake the offer of their love.
  GENERAL OF THE FRENCH. Thou ominous and fearful owl of
    death,
    Our nation's terror and their bloody scourge!
    The period of thy tyranny approacheth.
    On us thou canst not enter but by death;
    For, I protest, we are well fortified,
    And strong enough to issue out and fight.
    If thou retire, the Dauphin, well appointed,
    Stands with the snares of war to tangle thee.
    On either hand thee there are squadrons pitch'd
    To wall thee from the liberty of flight,
    And no way canst thou turn thee for redress
    But death doth front thee with apparent spoil
    And pale destruction meets thee in the face.
    Ten thousand French have ta'en the sacrament
    To rive their dangerous artillery
    Upon no Christian soul but English Talbot.
    Lo, there thou stand'st, a breathing valiant man,
    Of an invincible unconquer'd spirit!
    This is the latest glory of thy praise
    That I, thy enemy, due thee withal;
    For ere the glass that now begins to run
    Finish the process of his sandy hour,
    These eyes that see thee now well coloured
    Shall see thee withered, bloody, pale, and dead.
                                                 [Drum afar off]
    Hark! hark! The Dauphin's drum, a warning bell,
    Sings heavy music to thy timorous soul;
    And mine shall ring thy dire departure out.             Exit
  TALBOT. He fables not; I hear the enemy.
    Out, some light horsemen, and peruse their wings.
    O, negligent and heedless discipline!
    How are we park'd and bounded in a pale
    A little herd of England's timorous deer,
    Maz'd with a yelping kennel of French curs!
    If we be English deer, be then in blood;
    Not rascal-like to fall down with a pinch,
    But rather, moody-mad and desperate stags,
    Turn on the bloody hounds with heads of steel
    And make the cowards stand aloof at bay.
    Sell every man his life as dear as mine,
    And they shall find dear deer of us, my friends.
    God and Saint George, Talbot and England's right,
    Prosper our colours in this dangerous fight!          Exeunt

SCENE 3.

                      Plains in Gascony

        Enter YORK, with trumpet and many soldiers. A
                   MESSENGER meets him

  YORK. Are not the speedy scouts return'd again
    That dogg'd the mighty army of the Dauphin?
  MESSENGER. They are return'd, my lord, and give it out
    That he is march'd to Bordeaux with his power
    To fight with Talbot; as he march'd along,
    By your espials were discovered
    Two mightier troops than that the Dauphin led,
    Which join'd with him and made their march for
    Bordeaux.
  YORK. A plague upon that villain Somerset
    That thus delays my promised supply
    Of horsemen that were levied for this siege!
    Renowned Talbot doth expect my aid,
    And I am louted by a traitor villain
    And cannot help the noble chevalier.
    God comfort him in this necessity!
    If he miscarry, farewell wars in France.

                      Enter SIR WILLIAM LUCY

  LUCY. Thou princely leader of our English strength,
    Never so needful on the earth of France,
    Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot,
    Who now is girdled with a waist of iron
    And hemm'd about with grim destruction.
    To Bordeaux, warlike Duke! to Bordeaux, York!
    Else, farewell Talbot, France, and England's honour.
  YORK. O God, that Somerset, who in proud heart
    Doth stop my cornets, were in Talbot's place!
    So should we save a valiant gentleman
    By forfeiting a traitor and a coward.
    Mad ire and wrathful fury makes me weep
    That thus we die while remiss traitors sleep.
  LUCY. O, send some succour to the distress'd lord!
  YORK. He dies; we lose; I break my warlike word.
    We mourn: France smiles. We lose: they daily get-
    All long of this vile traitor Somerset.
  LUCY. Then God take mercy on brave Talbot's soul,
    And on his son, young John, who two hours since
    I met in travel toward his warlike father.
    This seven years did not Talbot see his son;
    And now they meet where both their lives are done.
  YORK. Alas, what joy shall noble Talbot have
    To bid his young son welcome to his grave?
    Away! vexation almost stops my breath,
    That sund'red friends greet in the hour of death.
    Lucy, farewell; no more my fortune can
    But curse the cause I cannot aid the man.
    Maine, Blois, Poictiers, and Tours, are won away
    Long all of Somerset and his delay.         Exit with forces
  LUCY. Thus, while the vulture of sedition
    Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders,
    Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss
    The conquest of our scarce cold conqueror,
    That ever-living man of memory,
    Henry the Fifth. Whiles they each other cross,
    Lives, honours, lands, and all, hurry to loss.          Exit

SCENE 4.

                     Other plains of Gascony

        Enter SOMERSET, With his forces; an OFFICER of
                     TALBOT'S with him

  SOMERSET. It is too late; I cannot send them now.
    This expedition was by York and Talbot
    Too rashly plotted; all our general force
    Might with a sally of the very town
    Be buckled with. The over daring Talbot
    Hath sullied all his gloss of former honour
    By this unheedful, desperate, wild adventure.
    York set him on to fight and die in shame.
    That, Talbot dead, great York might bear the name.
  OFFICER. Here is Sir William Lucy, who with me
    Set from our o'er-match'd forces forth for aid.

                       Enter SIR WILLIAM LUCY

  SOMERSET. How now, Sir William! Whither were you sent?
  LUCY. Whither, my lord! From bought and sold Lord
    Talbot,
    Who, ring'd about with bold adversity,
    Cries out for noble York and Somerset
    To beat assailing death from his weak legions;
    And whiles the honourable captain there
    Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied limbs
    And, in advantage ling'ring, looks for rescue,
    You, his false hopes, the trust of England's honour,
    Keep off aloof with worthless emulation.
    Let not your private discord keep away
    The levied succours that should lend him aid,
    While he, renowned noble gentleman,
    Yield up his life unto a world of odds.
    Orleans the Bastard, Charles, Burgundy,
    Alencon, Reignier, compass him about,
    And Talbot perisheth by your default.
  SOMERSET. York set him on; York should have sent him aid.
  LUCY. And York as fast upon your Grace exclaims,
    Swearing that you withhold his levied host,
    Collected for this expedition.
  SOMERSET. York lies; he might have sent and had the horse.
    I owe him little duty and less love,
    And take foul scorn to fawn on him by sending.
  LUCY. The fraud of England, not the force of France,
    Hath now entrapp'd the noble minded Talbot.
    Never to England shall he bear his life,
    But dies betray'd to fortune by your strife.
  SOMERSET. Come, go; I will dispatch the horsemen straight;
    Within six hours they will be at his aid.
  LUCY. Too late comes rescue; he is ta'en or slain,
    For fly he could not if he would have fled;
    And fly would Talbot never, though he might.
  SOMERSET. If he be dead, brave Talbot, then, adieu!
  LUCY. His fame lives in the world, his shame in you.
Exeunt

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Talbot arrives outside the gates of Bordeaux. The French General appears on the city gates, and Talbot demands he open the city gates and accept Henry VI as his king; otherwise Talbot will let loose a violent attack on his city. The General replies that they are well fortified and strong enough to resist his attack. Moreover, he announces, Charles's armies now prepare to attack Talbot from behind, so he will be unable to retreat. Death faces Talbot from both sides, he declares, as thousands of Frenchmen have no other destination in mind for their arrows and swords than Talbot himself. This is Talbot's last moment of glory, says the General, for he will soon fall. Talbot hears the sound of Charles's approach and sends some of his men to reconnoiter their forces. He speaks with disappointment of his forces, hemmed in like deer within a kennel surrounded by dogs. But the English never die without a fight, he says; they'll turn on the French forces that surround them. He prays that England may prosper in the coming fight. York asks his messenger where Charles's troops are, and the messenger announces that they have gone to Bordeaux to fight with Talbot. The Dauphin's troops outnumber Talbot's, he says. York curses Somerset, who has delayed the promised supply of horsemen that he had expected to send to join Talbot. Talbot was relying on his aid, but he can do nothing alone. Another messenger, Sir William Lucy, enters. He says that Talbot badly needs troops, for he is encircled by French troops. Lucy urges York to send troops or Talbot will be doomed. York wishes Somerset were in Talbot's place, so a coward could die in place of a valiant warrior. York says he can't do anything, sadly aware that if Talbot dies, then France will fall to Charles. Lucy says that Talbot's son John had just traveled to be with his father at Bordeaux, which means he will die with his father. York is even more upset, cursing the cause that stops him from helping Talbot. He exits, leaving Lucy alone to ruminate on the fact that dissention among the nobles will lead to the loss of France, the greatest conquest of their recently fallen king, Henry V. Somerset enters with his army, commenting that it is too late to send them. He says he is sure that York has, in fact, planned the impending defeat, having sent a too-daring Talbot into battle in order to bring about his death so York might figure as the preeminent hero in coming battles. Lucy arrives at Somerset's camp. Somerset asks him who sent him, and Lucy says he was sent by the betrayed Talbot, who will now die while awaiting rescue from other English forces. Lucy urges him not to let his private disagreements keep aid from reaching Talbot in time. But Somerset blames York for the whole situation. York sent Talbot to Bordeaux, and York should help him. Lucy says that York had said he was awaiting Somerset's horsemen before he could help Talbot. Somerset says that York is lying, and York could have sent the horsemen but simply didn't want to. And besides, says Somerset, he dislikes York and doesn't take well to the idea of sending him his horsemen. Lucy charges Somerset with causing the death of Talbot with his petty dispute. Somerset says he'll send his horsemen now, but Lucy says it's too late. Lucy declares that Talbot's fame lies in his deeds in the world, but his final shame and death are attributable to the warring lords.


prompt:
Chapter: SCENE 5.

                   The English camp near Bordeaux

                    Enter TALBOT and JOHN his son

  TALBOT. O young John Talbot! I did send for thee
    To tutor thee in stratagems of war,
    That Talbot's name might be in thee reviv'd
    When sapless age and weak unable limbs
    Should bring thy father to his drooping chair.
    But, O malignant and ill-boding stars!
    Now thou art come unto a feast of death,
    A terrible and unavoided danger;
    Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest horse,
    And I'll direct thee how thou shalt escape
    By sudden flight. Come, dally not, be gone.
  JOHN. Is my name Talbot, and am I your son?
    And shall I fly? O, if you love my mother,
    Dishonour not her honourable name,
    To make a bastard and a slave of me!
    The world will say he is not Talbot's blood
    That basely fled when noble Talbot stood.
  TALBOT. Fly to revenge my death, if I be slain.
  JOHN. He that flies so will ne'er return again.
  TALBOT. If we both stay, we both are sure to die.
  JOHN. Then let me stay; and, father, do you fly.
    Your loss is great, so your regard should be;
    My worth unknown, no loss is known in me;
    Upon my death the French can little boast;
    In yours they will, in you all hopes are lost.
    Flight cannot stain the honour you have won;
    But mine it will, that no exploit have done;
    You fled for vantage, every one will swear;
    But if I bow, they'll say it was for fear.
    There is no hope that ever I will stay
    If the first hour I shrink and run away.
    Here, on my knee, I beg mortality,
    Rather than life preserv'd with infamy.
  TALBOT. Shall all thy mother's hopes lie in one tomb?
  JOHN. Ay, rather than I'll shame my mother's womb.
  TALBOT. Upon my blessing I command thee go.
  JOHN. To fight I will, but not to fly the foe.
  TALBOT. Part of thy father may be sav'd in thee.
  JOHN. No part of him but will be shame in me.
  TALBOT. Thou never hadst renown, nor canst not lose it.
  JOHN. Yes, your renowned name; shall flight abuse it?
  TALBOT. Thy father's charge shall clear thee from that stain.
  JOHN. You cannot witness for me, being slain.
    If death be so apparent, then both fly.
  TALBOT. And leave my followers here to fight and die?
    My age was never tainted with such shame.
  JOHN. And shall my youth be guilty of such blame?
    No more can I be severed from your side
    Than can yourself yourself yourself in twain divide.
    Stay, go, do what you will, the like do I;
    For live I will not if my father die.
  TALBOT. Then here I take my leave of thee, fair son,
    Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon.
    Come, side by side together live and die;
    And soul with soul from France to heaven fly.         Exeunt

SCENE 6.

                         A field of battle

         Alarum: excursions wherein JOHN TALBOT is hemm'd
                  about, and TALBOT rescues him

  TALBOT. Saint George and victory! Fight, soldiers, fight.
    The Regent hath with Talbot broke his word
    And left us to the rage of France his sword.
    Where is John Talbot? Pause and take thy breath;
    I gave thee life and rescu'd thee from death.
  JOHN. O, twice my father, twice am I thy son!
    The life thou gav'st me first was lost and done
    Till with thy warlike sword, despite of fate,
    To my determin'd time thou gav'st new date.
  TALBOT. When from the Dauphin's crest thy sword struck
    fire,
    It warm'd thy father's heart with proud desire
    Of bold-fac'd victory. Then leaden age,
    Quicken'd with youthful spleen and warlike rage,
    Beat down Alencon, Orleans, Burgundy,
    And from the pride of Gallia rescued thee.
    The ireful bastard Orleans, that drew blood
    From thee, my boy, and had the maidenhood
    Of thy first fight, I soon encountered
    And, interchanging blows, I quickly shed
    Some of his bastard blood; and in disgrace
    Bespoke him thus: 'Contaminated, base,
    And misbegotten blood I spill of thine,
    Mean and right poor, for that pure blood of mine
    Which thou didst force from Talbot, my brave boy.'
    Here purposing the Bastard to destroy,
    Came in strong rescue. Speak, thy father's care;
    Art thou not weary, John? How dost thou fare?
    Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly,
    Now thou art seal'd the son of chivalry?
    Fly, to revenge my death when I am dead:
    The help of one stands me in little stead.
    O, too much folly is it, well I wot,
    To hazard all our lives in one small boat!
    If I to-day die not with Frenchmen's rage,
    To-morrow I shall die with mickle age.
    By me they nothing gain an if I stay:
    'Tis but the short'ning of my life one day.
    In thee thy mother dies, our household's name,
    My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame.
    All these and more we hazard by thy stay;
    All these are sav'd if thou wilt fly away.
  JOHN. The sword of Orleans hath not made me smart;
    These words of yours draw life-blood from my heart.
    On that advantage, bought with such a shame,
    To save a paltry life and slay bright fame,
    Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly,
    The coward horse that bears me fall and die!
    And like me to the peasant boys of France,
    To be shame's scorn and subject of mischance!
    Surely, by all the glory you have won,
    An if I fly, I am not Talbot's son;
    Then talk no more of flight, it is no boot;
    If son to Talbot, die at Talbot's foot.
  TALBOT. Then follow thou thy desp'rate sire of Crete,
    Thou Icarus; thy life to me is sweet.
    If thou wilt fight, fight by thy father's side;
    And, commendable prov'd, let's die in pride.          Exeunt

SCENE 7.

                      Another part of the field

       Alarum; excursions. Enter old TALBOT led by a SERVANT

  TALBOT. Where is my other life? Mine own is gone.
    O, where's young Talbot? Where is valiant John?
    Triumphant death, smear'd with captivity,
    Young Talbot's valour makes me smile at thee.
    When he perceiv'd me shrink and on my knee,
    His bloody sword he brandish'd over me,
    And like a hungry lion did commence
    Rough deeds of rage and stern impatience;
    But when my angry guardant stood alone,
    Tend'ring my ruin and assail'd of none,
    Dizzy-ey'd fury and great rage of heart
    Suddenly made him from my side to start
    Into the clust'ring battle of the French;
    And in that sea of blood my boy did drench
    His overmounting spirit; and there died,
    My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride.

         Enter soldiers, bearing the body of JOHN TALBOT

  SERVANT. O my dear lord, lo where your son is borne!
  TALBOT. Thou antic Death, which laugh'st us here to scorn,
    Anon, from thy insulting tyranny,
    Coupled in bonds of perpetuity,
    Two Talbots, winged through the lither sky,
    In thy despite shall scape mortality.
    O thou whose wounds become hard-favoured Death,
    Speak to thy father ere thou yield thy breath!
    Brave Death by speaking, whether he will or no;
    Imagine him a Frenchman and thy foe.
    Poor boy! he smiles, methinks, as who should say,
    Had Death been French, then Death had died to-day.
    Come, come, and lay him in his father's arms.
    My spirit can no longer bear these harms.
    Soldiers, adieu! I have what I would have,
    Now my old arms are young John Talbot's grave.        [Dies]

            Enter CHARLES, ALENCON, BURGUNDY, BASTARD,
                     LA PUCELLE, and forces

  CHARLES. Had York and Somerset brought rescue in,
    We should have found a bloody day of this.
  BASTARD. How the young whelp of Talbot's, raging wood,
    Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood!
  PUCELLE. Once I encount'red him, and thus I said:
    'Thou maiden youth, be vanquish'd by a maid.'
    But with a proud majestical high scorn
    He answer'd thus: 'Young Talbot was not born
    To be the pillage of a giglot wench.'
    So, rushing in the bowels of the French,
    He left me proudly, as unworthy fight.
  BURGUNDY. Doubtless he would have made a noble knight.
    See where he lies inhearsed in the arms
    Of the most bloody nurser of his harms!
  BASTARD. Hew them to pieces, hack their bones asunder,
    Whose life was England's glory, Gallia's wonder.
  CHARLES. O, no; forbear! For that which we have fled
    During the life, let us not wrong it dead.

            Enter SIR WILLIAM Lucy, attended; a FRENCH
                         HERALD preceding

  LUCY. Herald, conduct me to the Dauphin's tent,
    To know who hath obtain'd the glory of the day.
  CHARLES. On what submissive message art thou sent?
  LUCY. Submission, Dauphin! 'Tis a mere French word:
    We English warriors wot not what it means.
    I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta'en,
    And to survey the bodies of the dead.
  CHARLES. For prisoners ask'st thou? Hell our prison is.
    But tell me whom thou seek'st.
  LUCY. But where's the great Alcides of the field,
    Valiant Lord Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury,
    Created for his rare success in arms
    Great Earl of Washford, Waterford, and Valence,
    Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield,
    Lord Strange of Blackmere, Lord Verdun of Alton,
    Lord Cromwell of Wingfield, Lord Furnival of Sheffield,
    The thrice victorious Lord of Falconbridge,
    Knight of the noble order of Saint George,
    Worthy Saint Michael, and the Golden Fleece,
    Great Marshal to Henry the Sixth
    Of all his wars within the realm of France?
  PUCELLE. Here's a silly-stately style indeed!
    The Turk, that two and fifty kingdoms hath,
    Writes not so tedious a style as this.
    Him that thou magnifi'st with all these tides,
    Stinking and fly-blown lies here at our feet.
  LUCY. Is Talbot slain--the Frenchmen's only scourge,
    Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis?
    O, were mine eye-balls into bullets turn'd,
    That I in rage might shoot them at your faces!
    O that I could but call these dead to life!
    It were enough to fright the realm of France.
    Were but his picture left amongst you here,
    It would amaze the proudest of you all.
    Give me their bodies, that I may bear them hence
    And give them burial as beseems their worth.
  PUCELLE. I think this upstart is old Talbot's ghost,
    He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit.
    For God's sake, let him have them; to keep them here,
    They would but stink, and putrefy the air.
  CHARLES. Go, take their bodies hence.
  LUCY. I'll bear them hence; but from their ashes shall be
    rear'd
    A phoenix that shall make all France afeard.
  CHARLES. So we be rid of them, do with them what thou
    wilt.
    And now to Paris in this conquering vein!
    All will be ours, now bloody Talbot's slain.          Exeunt

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Talbot and his son John stand on the battlefield near Bordeaux. Talbot says he had sent for his son to teach him the strategies of war so that the name of Talbot might be carried on into future wars. But John has arrived in a situation of too much danger, and Talbot tells his son to escape. John refuses, however, explaining that to flee now would be to disgrace the name of Talbot. Talbot tells John to flee so that he may avenge his father's death, but John says anyone who flees will never again be taken seriously in a fight. Talbot says they can't both stay, as they will both die. So John tells Talbot to flee, offering to stay himself. The death of Talbot would be a great loss, but the death of his son, not yet a famous figure, would mean nothing. For Talbot to flee now would not stain the permanent honor he has already won, but it would ruin John's career to flee his first fight. Talbot asks him if he wants his mother's heart to be broken when her only son and husband both die, but John says he prefers that his mother suffer this sadness than suffer the terrible shame of knowing her son to be a coward. Talbot repeats that if John flees the Talbot legacy will live on, but John insists that that legacy will be worthless if he sullies it by fleeing. Finally, Talbot relents and sadly welcomes his son to fight--and probably die--with him. In the ensuing battle, John becomes surrounded by French soldiers, and Talbot rescues him. Talbot sees that his son has received his first wound in battle, struck by the Bastard of Orleans. This first penetration by a sword has deflowered this young soldier, Talbot says. He asks if John is tired, urging him again to leave the battlefield. Hasn't he achieved enough glory now to escape with honor and live on to avenge his father's death? Why endanger both their lives on the same bloody field? If he himself dies, he merely cuts off the few short years he has remaining, but if John dies, then the family name dies, along with the revenge of his death, and the connection between English leadership and the Talbot name. John understands all that his father says, yet he insists that if he flees then he will no longer deserve the name of Talbot's son. If he does possess the name Talbot, his duty is to die at his father's side. Talbot returns with his son to battle, comparing him to Icarus. Some time has elapsed, and Talbot now reappears, led by a servant. He mourns his son, who he says repeatedly saved him on the battlefield, fighting valiantly. Yet, like Icarus, he, too, fell because of his high-flying spirit, and he was brought down by the French. John's body is borne in and Talbot weeps over it. He says his spirit cannot survive this blow, and he dies. Soldiers depart with the bodies. Charles and his men, including Alencon, Burgundy, the Bastard of Orleans, and Joan, enter. Charles expresses gladness that York and Somerset's troops never arrived, for the French would not have won had they come as planned. The lords discuss John and how powerful a warrior he proved before he fell. Joan says that she encountered him in the field but he refused to fight with her, believing a woman to be an unworthy opponent. Burgundy says he would have made a noble knight. Lucy enters, asking to know the names of prisoners and to view the bodies of the English dead. He recites a long eloquent list of men lost in the battle, wondering where they are now. Joan makes fun of Lucy's style, saying, "Him that thou magnifi'st with all these titles / Stinking and flyblown lies here at our feet". Lucy asks if Talbot is slain, and she asks to take the bodies of the dead to be buried in fitting honor. Joan, clearly bored with Lucy's elevated speech, urges Charles to give him the bodies and send Lucy on his way.


prompt:
Chapter: ACT V. SCENE 1.

London. The palace

Sennet. Enter the KING, GLOUCESTER, and EXETER

  KING HENRY. Have you perus'd the letters from the Pope,
    The Emperor, and the Earl of Armagnac?
  GLOUCESTER. I have, my lord; and their intent is this:
    They humbly sue unto your Excellence
    To have a godly peace concluded of
    Between the realms of England and of France.
  KING HENRY. How doth your Grace affect their motion?
  GLOUCESTER. Well, my good lord, and as the only means
    To stop effusion of our Christian blood
    And stablish quietness on every side.
  KING HENRY. Ay, marry, uncle; for I always thought
    It was both impious and unnatural
    That such immanity and bloody strife
    Should reign among professors of one faith.
  GLOUCESTER. Beside, my lord, the sooner to effect
    And surer bind this knot of amity,
    The Earl of Armagnac, near knit to Charles,
    A man of great authority in France,
    Proffers his only daughter to your Grace
    In marriage, with a large and sumptuous dowry.
  KING HENRY. Marriage, uncle! Alas, my years are young
    And fitter is my study and my books
    Than wanton dalliance with a paramour.
    Yet call th' ambassadors, and, as you please,
    So let them have their answers every one.
    I shall be well content with any choice
    Tends to God's glory and my country's weal.

                   Enter in Cardinal's habit
        BEAUFORT, the PAPAL LEGATE, and two AMBASSADORS

  EXETER. What! Is my Lord of Winchester install'd
    And call'd unto a cardinal's degree?
    Then I perceive that will be verified
    Henry the Fifth did sometime prophesy:
    'If once he come to be a cardinal,
    He'll make his cap co-equal with the crown.'
  KING HENRY. My Lords Ambassadors, your several suits
    Have been consider'd and debated on.
    Your purpose is both good and reasonable,
    And therefore are we certainly resolv'd
    To draw conditions of a friendly peace,
    Which by my Lord of Winchester we mean
    Shall be transported presently to France.
  GLOUCESTER. And for the proffer of my lord your master,
    I have inform'd his Highness so at large,
    As, liking of the lady's virtuous gifts,
    Her beauty, and the value of her dower,
    He doth intend she shall be England's Queen.
  KING HENRY.  [To AMBASSADOR]  In argument and proof of
    which contract,
    Bear her this jewel, pledge of my affection.
    And so, my Lord Protector, see them guarded
    And safely brought to Dover; where inshipp'd,
    Commit them to the fortune of the sea.

                        Exeunt all but WINCHESTER and the LEGATE
  WINCHESTER. Stay, my Lord Legate; you shall first receive
    The sum of money which I promised
    Should be delivered to his Holiness
    For clothing me in these grave ornaments.
  LEGATE. I will attend upon your lordship's leisure.
  WINCHESTER.  [Aside]  Now Winchester will not submit, I
    trow,
    Or be inferior to the proudest peer.
    Humphrey of Gloucester, thou shalt well perceive
    That neither in birth or for authority
    The Bishop will be overborne by thee.
    I'll either make thee stoop and bend thy knee,
    Or sack this country with a mutiny.                   Exeunt

SCENE 2.

                       France. Plains in Anjou

              Enter CHARLES, BURGUNDY, ALENCON, BASTARD,
                   REIGNIER, LA PUCELLE, and forces

  CHARLES. These news, my lords, may cheer our drooping
    spirits:
    'Tis said the stout Parisians do revolt
    And turn again unto the warlike French.
  ALENCON. Then march to Paris, royal Charles of France,
    And keep not back your powers in dalliance.
  PUCELLE. Peace be amongst them, if they turn to us;
    Else ruin combat with their palaces!

                            Enter a SCOUT

  SCOUT. Success unto our valiant general,
    And happiness to his accomplices!
  CHARLES. What tidings send our scouts? I prithee speak.
  SCOUT. The English army, that divided was
    Into two parties, is now conjoin'd in one,
    And means to give you battle presently.
  CHARLES. Somewhat too sudden, sirs, the warning is;
    But we will presently provide for them.
  BURGUNDY. I trust the ghost of Talbot is not there.
    Now he is gone, my lord, you need not fear.
  PUCELLE. Of all base passions fear is most accurs'd.
    Command the conquest, Charles, it shall be thine,
    Let Henry fret and all the world repine.
  CHARLES. Then on, my lords; and France be fortunate!
                                                          Exeunt

SCENE 3.

                         Before Angiers

              Alarum, excursions. Enter LA PUCELLE

  PUCELLE. The Regent conquers and the Frenchmen fly.
    Now help, ye charming spells and periapts;
    And ye choice spirits that admonish me
    And give me signs of future accidents;             [Thunder]
    You speedy helpers that are substitutes
    Under the lordly monarch of the north,
    Appear and aid me in this enterprise!

                          Enter FIENDS

    This speedy and quick appearance argues proof
    Of your accustom'd diligence to me.
    Now, ye familiar spirits that are cull'd
    Out of the powerful regions under earth,
    Help me this once, that France may get the field.
                                       [They walk and speak not]

    O, hold me not with silence over-long!
    Where I was wont to feed you with my blood,
    I'll lop a member off and give it you
    In earnest of a further benefit,
    So you do condescend to help me now.
                                         [They hang their heads]
    No hope to have redress? My body shall
    Pay recompense, if you will grant my suit.
                                        [They shake their heads]
    Cannot my body nor blood sacrifice
    Entreat you to your wonted furtherance?
    Then take my soul-my body, soul, and all,
    Before that England give the French the foil.
                                                   [They depart]
    See! they forsake me. Now the time is come
    That France must vail her lofty-plumed crest
    And let her head fall into England's lap.
    My ancient incantations are too weak,
    And hell too strong for me to buckle with.
    Now, France, thy glory droopeth to the dust.            Exit

          Excursions. Enter French and English, fighting.
         LA PUCELLE and YORK fight hand to hand; LA PUCELLE
                    is taken. The French fly

  YORK. Damsel of France, I think I have you fast.
    Unchain your spirits now with spelling charms,
    And try if they can gain your liberty.
    A goodly prize, fit for the devil's grace!
    See how the ugly witch doth bend her brows
    As if, with Circe, she would change my shape!
  PUCELLE. Chang'd to a worser shape thou canst not be.
  YORK. O, Charles the Dauphin is a proper man:
    No shape but his can please your dainty eye.
  PUCELLE. A plaguing mischief fight on Charles and thee!
    And may ye both be suddenly surpris'd
    By bloody hands, in sleeping on your beds!
  YORK. Fell banning hag; enchantress, hold thy tongue.
  PUCELLE. I prithee give me leave to curse awhile.
  YORK. Curse, miscreant, when thou comest to the stake.
                                                          Exeunt

          Alarum. Enter SUFFOLK, with MARGARET in his hand

  SUFFOLK. Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner.
                                                  [Gazes on her]
    O fairest beauty, do not fear nor fly!
    For I will touch thee but with reverent hands;
    I kiss these fingers for eternal peace,
    And lay them gently on thy tender side.
    Who art thou? Say, that I may honour thee.
  MARGARET. Margaret my name, and daughter to a king,
    The King of Naples--whosoe'er thou art.
  SUFFOLK. An earl I am, and Suffolk am I call'd.
    Be not offended, nature's miracle,
    Thou art allotted to be ta'en by me.
    So doth the swan her downy cygnets save,
    Keeping them prisoner underneath her wings.
    Yet, if this servile usage once offend,
    Go and be free again as Suffolk's friend.     [She is going]

    O, stay!  [Aside]  I have no power to let her pass;
    My hand would free her, but my heart says no.
    As plays the sun upon the glassy streams,
    Twinkling another counterfeited beam,
    So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes.
    Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak.
    I'll call for pen and ink, and write my mind.
    Fie, de la Pole! disable not thyself;
    Hast not a tongue? Is she not here thy prisoner?
    Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight?
    Ay, beauty's princely majesty is such
    Confounds the tongue and makes the senses rough.
  MARGARET. Say, Earl of Suffolk, if thy name be so,
    What ransom must I pay before I pass?
    For I perceive I am thy prisoner.
  SUFFOLK.  [Aside]  How canst thou tell she will deny thy
    suit,
    Before thou make a trial of her love?
  MARGARET. Why speak'st thou not? What ransom must I
    pay?
  SUFFOLK.  [Aside]  She's beautiful, and therefore to be woo'd;
    She is a woman, therefore to be won.
  MARGARET. Wilt thou accept of ransom--yea or no?
  SUFFOLK.  [Aside]  Fond man, remember that thou hast a
    wife;
    Then how can Margaret be thy paramour?
  MARGARET. I were best leave him, for he will not hear.
  SUFFOLK.  [Aside]  There all is marr'd; there lies a cooling
    card.
  MARGARET. He talks at random; sure, the man is mad.
  SUFFOLK.  [Aside]  And yet a dispensation may be had.
  MARGARET. And yet I would that you would answer me.
  SUFFOLK.  [Aside]  I'll win this Lady Margaret. For whom?
    Why, for my King! Tush, that's a wooden thing!
  MARGARET. He talks of wood. It is some carpenter.
  SUFFOLK.  [Aside]  Yet so my fancy may be satisfied,
    And peace established between these realms.
    But there remains a scruple in that too;
    For though her father be the King of Naples,
    Duke of Anjou and Maine, yet is he poor,
    And our nobility will scorn the match.
  MARGARET. Hear ye, Captain--are you not at leisure?
  SUFFOLK.  [Aside]  It shall be so, disdain they ne'er so much.
    Henry is youthful, and will quickly yield.
    Madam, I have a secret to reveal.
  MARGARET.  [Aside]  What though I be enthrall'd? He seems
    a knight,
    And will not any way dishonour me.
  SUFFOLK. Lady, vouchsafe to listen what I say.
  MARGARET.  [Aside]  Perhaps I shall be rescu'd by the French;
    And then I need not crave his courtesy.
  SUFFOLK. Sweet madam, give me hearing in a cause--
  MARGARET.  [Aside]  Tush! women have been captivate ere
    now.
  SUFFOLK. Lady, wherefore talk you so?
  MARGARET. I cry you mercy, 'tis but quid for quo.
  SUFFOLK. Say, gentle Princess, would you not suppose
    Your bondage happy, to be made a queen?
  MARGARET. To be a queen in bondage is more vile
    Than is a slave in base servility;
    For princes should be free.
  SUFFOLK. And so shall you,
    If happy England's royal king be free.
  MARGARET. Why, what concerns his freedom unto me?
  SUFFOLK. I'll undertake to make thee Henry's queen,
    To put a golden sceptre in thy hand
    And set a precious crown upon thy head,
    If thou wilt condescend to be my--
  MARGARET. What?
  SUFFOLK. His love.
  MARGARET. I am unworthy to be Henry's wife.
  SUFFOLK. No, gentle madam; I unworthy am
    To woo so fair a dame to be his wife
    And have no portion in the choice myself.
    How say you, madam? Are ye so content?
  MARGARET. An if my father please, I am content.
  SUFFOLK. Then call our captains and our colours forth!
    And, madam, at your father's castle walls
    We'll crave a parley to confer with him.

           Sound a parley. Enter REIGNIER on the walls

    See, Reignier, see, thy daughter prisoner!
  REIGNIER. To whom?
  SUFFOLK. To me.
  REIGNIER. Suffolk, what remedy?
    I am a soldier and unapt to weep
    Or to exclaim on fortune's fickleness.
  SUFFOLK. Yes, there is remedy enough, my lord.
    Consent, and for thy honour give consent,
    Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king,
    Whom I with pain have woo'd and won thereto;
    And this her easy-held imprisonment
    Hath gain'd thy daughter princely liberty.
  REIGNIER. Speaks Suffolk as he thinks?
  SUFFOLK. Fair Margaret knows
    That Suffolk doth not flatter, face, or feign.
  REIGNIER. Upon thy princely warrant I descend
    To give thee answer of thy just demand.
                                    Exit REIGNIER from the walls

  SUFFOLK. And here I will expect thy coming.

                Trumpets sound. Enter REIGNIER below

  REIGNIER. Welcome, brave Earl, into our territories;
    Command in Anjou what your Honour pleases.
  SUFFOLK. Thanks, Reignier, happy for so sweet a child,
    Fit to be made companion with a king.
    What answer makes your Grace unto my suit?
  REIGNIER. Since thou dost deign to woo her little worth
    To be the princely bride of such a lord,
    Upon condition I may quietly
    Enjoy mine own, the country Maine and Anjou,
    Free from oppression or the stroke of war,
    My daughter shall be Henry's, if he please.
  SUFFOLK. That is her ransom; I deliver her.
    And those two counties I will undertake
    Your Grace shall well and quietly enjoy.
  REIGNIER. And I again, in Henry's royal name,
    As deputy unto that gracious king,
    Give thee her hand for sign of plighted faith.
  SUFFOLK. Reignier of France, I give thee kingly thanks,
    Because this is in traffic of a king.
    [Aside]  And yet, methinks, I could be well content
    To be mine own attorney in this case.
    I'll over then to England with this news,
    And make this marriage to be solemniz'd.
    So, farewell, Reignier. Set this diamond safe
    In golden palaces, as it becomes.
  REIGNIER. I do embrace thee as I would embrace
    The Christian prince, King Henry, were he here.
  MARGARET. Farewell, my lord. Good wishes, praise, and
    prayers,
    Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret.          [She is going]
  SUFFOLK. Farewell, sweet madam. But hark you, Margaret
    No princely commendations to my king?
  MARGARET. Such commendations as becomes a maid,
    A virgin, and his servant, say to him.
  SUFFOLK. Words sweetly plac'd and modestly directed.
    But, madam, I must trouble you again
    No loving token to his Majesty?
  MARGARET. Yes, my good lord: a pure unspotted heart,
    Never yet taint with love, I send the King.
  SUFFOLK. And this withal.                         [Kisses her]
  MARGARET. That for thyself, I will not so presume
    To send such peevish tokens to a king.
                                    Exeunt REIGNIER and MARGARET
  SUFFOLK. O, wert thou for myself! But, Suffolk, stay;
    Thou mayst not wander in that labyrinth:
    There Minotaurs and ugly treasons lurk.
    Solicit Henry with her wondrous praise.
    Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount,
    And natural graces that extinguish art;
    Repeat their semblance often on the seas,
    That, when thou com'st to kneel at Henry's feet,
    Thou mayst bereave him of his wits with wonder.         Exit

SCENE 4.

                  Camp of the DUKE OF YORK in Anjou

                   Enter YORK, WARWICK, and others

  YORK. Bring forth that sorceress, condemn'd to burn.

              Enter LA PUCELLE, guarded, and a SHEPHERD

  SHEPHERD. Ah, Joan, this kills thy father's heart outright!
    Have I sought every country far and near,
    And, now it is my chance to find thee out,
    Must I behold thy timeless cruel death?
    Ah, Joan, sweet daughter Joan, I'll die with thee!
  PUCELLE. Decrepit miser! base ignoble wretch!
    I am descended of a gentler blood;
    Thou art no father nor no friend of mine.
  SHEPHERD. Out, out! My lords, an please you, 'tis not so;
    I did beget her, all the parish knows.
    Her mother liveth yet, can testify
    She was the first fruit of my bach'lorship.
  WARWICK. Graceless, wilt thou deny thy parentage?
  YORK. This argues what her kind of life hath been--
    Wicked and vile; and so her death concludes.
  SHEPHERD. Fie, Joan, that thou wilt be so obstacle!
    God knows thou art a collop of my flesh;
    And for thy sake have I shed many a tear.
    Deny me not, I prithee, gentle Joan.
  PUCELLE. Peasant, avaunt! You have suborn'd this man
    Of purpose to obscure my noble birth.
  SHEPHERD. 'Tis true, I gave a noble to the priest
    The morn that I was wedded to her mother.
    Kneel down and take my blessing, good my girl.
    Wilt thou not stoop? Now cursed be the time
    Of thy nativity. I would the milk
    Thy mother gave thee when thou suck'dst her breast
    Had been a little ratsbane for thy sake.
    Or else, when thou didst keep my lambs afield,
    I wish some ravenous wolf had eaten thee.
    Dost thou deny thy father, cursed drab?
    O, burn her, burn her! Hanging is too good.             Exit
  YORK. Take her away; for she hath liv'd too long,
    To fill the world with vicious qualities.
  PUCELLE. First let me tell you whom you have condemn'd:
    Not me begotten of a shepherd swain,
    But issued from the progeny of kings;
    Virtuous and holy, chosen from above
    By inspiration of celestial grace,
    To work exceeding miracles on earth.
    I never had to do with wicked spirits.
    But you, that are polluted with your lusts,
    Stain'd with the guiltless blood of innocents,
    Corrupt and tainted with a thousand vices,
    Because you want the grace that others have,
    You judge it straight a thing impossible
    To compass wonders but by help of devils.
    No, misconceived! Joan of Arc hath been
    A virgin from her tender infancy,
    Chaste and immaculate in very thought;
    Whose maiden blood, thus rigorously effus'd,
    Will cry for vengeance at the gates of heaven.
  YORK. Ay, ay. Away with her to execution!
  WARWICK. And hark ye, sirs; because she is a maid,
    Spare for no fagots, let there be enow.
    Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake,
    That so her torture may be shortened.
  PUCELLE. Will nothing turn your unrelenting hearts?
    Then, Joan, discover thine infirmity
    That warranteth by law to be thy privilege:
    I am with child, ye bloody homicides;
    Murder not then the fruit within my womb,
    Although ye hale me to a violent death.
  YORK. Now heaven forfend! The holy maid with child!
  WARWICK. The greatest miracle that e'er ye wrought:
    Is all your strict preciseness come to this?
  YORK. She and the Dauphin have been juggling.
    I did imagine what would be her refuge.
  WARWICK. Well, go to; we'll have no bastards live;
    Especially since Charles must father it.
  PUCELLE. You are deceiv'd; my child is none of his:
    It was Alencon that enjoy'd my love.
  YORK. Alencon, that notorious Machiavel!
    It dies, an if it had a thousand lives.
  PUCELLE. O, give me leave, I have deluded you.
    'Twas neither Charles nor yet the Duke I nam'd,
    But Reignier, King of Naples, that prevail'd.
  WARWICK. A married man! That's most intolerable.
  YORK. Why, here's a girl! I think she knows not well
    There were so many--whom she may accuse.
  WARWICK. It's sign she hath been liberal and free.
  YORK. And yet, forsooth, she is a virgin pure.
    Strumpet, thy words condemn thy brat and thee.
    Use no entreaty, for it is in vain.
  PUCELLE. Then lead me hence--with whom I leave my
    curse:
    May never glorious sun reflex his beams
    Upon the country where you make abode;
    But darkness and the gloomy shade of death
    Environ you, till mischief and despair
    Drive you to break your necks or hang yourselves!
                                                   Exit, guarded
  YORK. Break thou in pieces and consume to ashes,
    Thou foul accursed minister of hell!

               Enter CARDINAL BEAUFORT, attended

  CARDINAL. Lord Regent, I do greet your Excellence
    With letters of commission from the King.
    For know, my lords, the states of Christendom,
    Mov'd with remorse of these outrageous broils,
    Have earnestly implor'd a general peace
    Betwixt our nation and the aspiring French;
    And here at hand the Dauphin and his train
    Approacheth, to confer about some matter.
  YORK. Is all our travail turn'd to this effect?
    After the slaughter of so many peers,
    So many captains, gentlemen, and soldiers,
    That in this quarrel have been overthrown
    And sold their bodies for their country's benefit,
    Shall we at last conclude effeminate peace?
    Have we not lost most part of all the towns,
    By treason, falsehood, and by treachery,
    Our great progenitors had conquered?
    O Warwick, Warwick! I foresee with grief
    The utter loss of all the realm of France.
  WARWICK. Be patient, York. If we conclude a peace,
    It shall be with such strict and severe covenants
    As little shall the Frenchmen gain thereby.

        Enter CHARLES, ALENCON, BASTARD, REIGNIER, and others

  CHARLES. Since, lords of England, it is thus agreed
    That peaceful truce shall be proclaim'd in France,
    We come to be informed by yourselves
    What the conditions of that league must be.
  YORK. Speak, Winchester; for boiling choler chokes
    The hollow passage of my poison'd voice,
    By sight of these our baleful enemies.
  CARDINAL. Charles, and the rest, it is enacted thus:
    That, in regard King Henry gives consent,
    Of mere compassion and of lenity,
    To ease your country of distressful war,
    An suffer you to breathe in fruitful peace,
    You shall become true liegemen to his crown;
    And, Charles, upon condition thou wilt swear
    To pay him tribute and submit thyself,
    Thou shalt be plac'd as viceroy under him,
    And still enjoy thy regal dignity.
  ALENCON. Must he be then as shadow of himself?
    Adorn his temples with a coronet
    And yet, in substance and authority,
    Retain but privilege of a private man?
    This proffer is absurd and reasonless.
  CHARLES. 'Tis known already that I am possess'd
    With more than half the Gallian territories,
    And therein reverenc'd for their lawful king.
    Shall I, for lucre of the rest unvanquish'd,
    Detract so much from that prerogative
    As to be call'd but viceroy of the whole?
    No, Lord Ambassador; I'll rather keep
    That which I have than, coveting for more,
    Be cast from possibility of all.
  YORK. Insulting Charles! Hast thou by secret means
    Us'd intercession to obtain a league,
    And now the matter grows to compromise
    Stand'st thou aloof upon comparison?
    Either accept the title thou usurp'st,
    Of benefit proceeding from our king
    And not of any challenge of desert,
    Or we will plague thee with incessant wars.
  REIGNIER.  [To CHARLES]  My lord, you do not well in
    obstinacy
    To cavil in the course of this contract.
    If once it be neglected, ten to one
    We shall not find like opportunity.
  ALENCON.  [To CHARLES]  To say the truth, it is your policy
    To save your subjects from such massacre
    And ruthless slaughters as are daily seen
    By our proceeding in hostility;
    And therefore take this compact of a truce,
    Although you break it when your pleasure serves.
  WARWICK. How say'st thou, Charles? Shall our condition
    stand?
  CHARLES. It shall;
    Only reserv'd, you claim no interest
    In any of our towns of garrison.
  YORK. Then swear allegiance to his Majesty:
    As thou art knight, never to disobey
    Nor be rebellious to the crown of England
    Thou, nor thy nobles, to the crown of England.
                    [CHARLES and the rest give tokens of fealty]
    So, now dismiss your army when ye please;
    Hang up your ensigns, let your drums be still,
    For here we entertain a solemn peace.                 Exeunt

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: In the palace in London, Henry enters with Gloucester, Exeter, and other lords. Henry asks if Gloucester has read the letters from the pope. Gloucester says that the pope urges the negotiation of peace between England and France. Henry asks Gloucester what he thinks, and Gloucester suggests it may be the only way to stop the bloodshed. He urges another tie to the French; the Earl of Armagnac, a close relative of Charles, has offered his daughter in marriage. Henry replies that he is young and might be better suited to study than to marriage, but he will take Gloucester's advice. Winchester enters, in the garb of a cardinal, with several messengers from the pope. Exeter wonders to himself how Winchester came to be a cardinal; certainly it means he plans to have more influence over the king. The king tells the papal messengers that he has decided that a friendly peace with France is a good idea, and he means to pursue it immediately. Gloucester tells the messengers that the king has also agreed to a marriage with the Earl of Armagnac's daughter. The court departs, except for Winchester and the main messenger from the pope. Winchester tells the messenger he owes him money for having made him a cardinal. Now he won't have to submit to anyone, he declares, especially not to Gloucester. Charles and his nobles, including Burgundy, Alencon, the Bastard of Orleans, Rene, and Joan, ponder news from Paris that their countrymen there are again swearing their loyalty to England. Alencon urges Charles to march to Paris and clear up the situation. Then, a messenger enters to announce that the two segments of the English army have merged and are preparing to attack the French troops. Joan urges Charles to lead the battle, and she declares he will win. It is now the middle of the battle, and Joan, alone onstage, realizes York is winning. She calls on the spirits that give her signs of coming events; she asks them to appear and to aid her. They arrive, and she asks them to help her win the fight for France. But the fiends refuse to speak to Joan. She reminds them that she has always offered her blood to them in exchange for their help. Yet the demons show no interest in her offerings. Becoming desperate, she offers her soul to them, but they depart. Joan, forsaken by the source of her former powers, declares that France will now surely fall to the English. Burgundy and York fight in hand-to-hand combat offstage. The French flee, and York seizes Joan. Holding her, he tauntingly asks her if her demons can help her now. He calls her an enchantress and a witch, and he takes her away.