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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.
These are the city gates, the gates of Rouen, Through which our plan must make a breach: Be careful, watch what you say; Talk like the common market people Who come to sell their grain. If we get in, as I think we will, And if the lazy guards are weak, I’ll signal our friends, So Charles the Dauphin can meet them.
Our sacks shall be a mean to sack the city, And we be lords and rulers over Rouen; Therefore we’ll knock.
Our sacks will be the way to sack the city, And we’ll be the lords and rulers of Rouen; So let’s knock.
[Within] Qui est la?
[Within] Who’s there?
Paysans, pauvres gens de France; Poor market folks that come to sell their corn.
Peasants, poor people of France; Poor market folks here to sell their grain.
Enter, go in; the market bell is rung.
Enter, go in; the market bell is ringing.
Now, Rouen, I’ll shake thy bulwarks to the ground.
Now, Rouen, I’ll shake your walls to the ground.
Saint Denis bless this happy stratagem! And once again we’ll sleep secure in Rouen.
Saint Denis bless this clever plan! And once again we’ll sleep safely in Rouen.
Here enter’d Pucelle and her practisants; Now she is there, how will she specify Where is the best and safest passage in?
Here comes Pucelle and her supporters; Now that she’s inside, how will she show The best and safest way in?
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 enter’d.
By sticking out a torch from that tower; Which, once seen, will show her intention is, Not through that way, because it’s too weak to enter.
Behold, this is the happy wedding torch That joineth Rouen unto her countrymen, But burning fatal to the Talbotites!
Look, this is the joyful wedding torch That connects Rouen with her people, But it’s deadly to the Talbot forces!
See, noble Charles, the beacon of our friend; The burning torch in yonder turret stands.
Look, noble Charles, the signal of our ally; The burning torch stands in that tower.
Now shine it like a comet of revenge, A prophet to the fall of all our foes!
Now let it shine like a comet of revenge, A warning for the fall of all our enemies!
Defer no time, delays have dangerous ends; Enter, and cry ’The Dauphin!’ presently, And then do execution on the watch.
Don’t waste time, delays have dangerous consequences; Go in and shout "The Dauphin!" immediately, Then carry out the punishment on the guard.
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 escaped the pride of France.
France, you will regret this betrayal with your tears, If Talbot survives your treachery. Pucelle, that witch, that cursed sorceress, Has caused this hellish trouble without us knowing, We barely escaped the pride of France.
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?
Good morning, gentlemen! Do you want some corn for bread? I think the Duke of Burgundy will fast Before he’ll pay that price again: It was full of weeds; do you like the taste?
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.
Mock on, wicked fiend and shameless prostitute! I hope soon to choke you with your own words And make you curse the harvest of that corn.
Your grace may starve perhaps before that time.
Your grace may starve before that happens.
O, let no words, but deeds, revenge this treason!
Oh, let deeds, not words, avenge this betrayal!
What will you do, good grey-beard? break a lance, And run a tilt at death within a chair?
What will you do, old man? Break a spear, And fight death while sitting in a chair?
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.
Dirty fiend of France, and witch of all hatred, Surrounded by your lustful lovers! Does it suit you to mock his brave old age And accuse a man half-dead of cowardice? Girl, I’ll fight you again, Or else let Talbot die in this disgrace.
Are ye so hot, sir? yet, Pucelle, hold thy peace; If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow.
Are you really that angry, sir? Still, Pucelle, stay quiet; If Talbot just roars, the rain will come after.
God speed the parliament! who shall be the speaker?
God speed the parliament! Who’s going to speak for us?
Dare ye come forth and meet us in the field?
Are you brave enough to come out and face us in battle?
Belike your lordship takes us then for fools, To try if that our own be ours or no.
You probably think we’re fools, Trying to see if what’s ours is really ours or not.
I speak not to that railing Hecate, But unto thee, Alencon, and the rest; Will ye, like soldiers, come and fight it out?
I’m not talking to you, you rude Hecate, But to you, Alencon, and the others; Will you come out and fight like soldiers?
Signior, no.
Sir, no.
Signior, hang! base muleters of France! Like peasant foot-boys do they keep the walls And dare not take up arms like gentlemen.
Sir, go to hell! You lowborn French peasants! Like common foot-soldiers, you stay behind the walls And don’t dare to fight like gentlemen.
Away, captains! let’s get us from the walls; For Talbot means no goodness by his looks. God be wi’ you, my lord! we came but to tell you That we are here.
Enough, captains! Let’s leave the walls; Talbot doesn’t mean any good with those looks. Goodbye, my lord! We only came to tell you That we are here.
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.
And we’ll be back soon, or else Talbot’s name will be nothing but shame! I swear, Burgundy, by the honor of your family, Pushed on by the public wrongs suffered in France, Either to take the town back or die: And I swear, as sure as English Henry lives And as his father was the conqueror here, As sure as in this recently-betrayed town Great Coeur-de-lion’s heart was buried, I swear I’ll take the town back or die.
My vows are equal partners with thy vows.
My vows are just as strong as yours.
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.
But before we leave, let’s think about this dying prince, The brave Duke of Bedford. Come, my lord, We’ll take you somewhere better, A place more suited for sickness and old age.
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.
Lord Talbot, don’t dishonor me like that: I’ll sit here before the walls of Rouen And share in your fortune, whether good or bad.
Courageous Bedford, let us now persuade you.
Courageous Bedford, let us try to convince you.
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.
No, I won’t leave here; I once read That strong Pendragon, sick in his litter, Came to the battlefield and defeated his enemies: I think I should lift the soldiers’ spirits, Since I always found them to be like me.
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.
A brave heart in a dying body! Then so be it: may heaven protect old Bedford! And now no more delay, brave Burgundy, But let’s quickly gather our forces And attack our boastful enemy.
Whither away, Sir John Fastolfe, in such haste?
Where are you going, Sir John Fastolfe, in such a hurry?
Whither away! to save myself by flight: We are like to have the overthrow again.
Where am I going? To save myself by running away: It looks like we’re going to lose again.
What! will you fly, and leave Lord Talbot?
What! Will you run away and leave Lord Talbot?
Ay, All the Talbots in the world, to save my life!
Yes, I’d leave all the Talbots in the world if it means saving my life!
Cowardly knight! ill fortune follow thee!
Cowardly knight! May bad luck follow you!
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.
Now, peaceful soul, depart when heaven calls, For I have seen our enemies’ defeat. What is the trust or strength of foolish men? Those who were mocking us only recently Are now happy to run away and save themselves.
Lost, and recover’d in a day again! This is a double honour, Burgundy: Yet heavens have glory for this victory!
Lost, and then regained in a single day! This is a double honour, Burgundy: Yet heaven gets the glory for this victory!
Warlike and martial Talbot, Burgundy Enshrines thee in his heart and there erects Thy noble deeds as valour’s monuments.
Brave and heroic Talbot, Burgundy Holds you in his heart and makes your Noble deeds monuments of courage.
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.
Thanks, kind duke. But where is Pucelle now? I think her old companion is asleep: Now where are the Bastard’s men, and Charles’s followers? What, all gone? Rouen hangs her head in sorrow That such a brave group have run away. Now we’ll take charge of the town, Place some skilled officers here, And then head to Paris to see the king, For there young Henry and his nobles are resting.
What wills Lord Talbot pleaseth Burgundy.
Whatever Lord Talbot wants, Burgundy will do.
But yet, before we go, let’s not forget The noble Duke of Bedford late deceased, 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.
But before we go, let’s not forget The noble Duke of Bedford, who has recently passed, But let’s make sure his funeral rites are carried out in Rouen: A braver soldier never held a lance, A kinder heart never served in a court; But kings and the most powerful rulers must die, For that’s the end of all human suffering.