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DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. KING HENRY VI. || Baffet, of the Red Rose, or Duke of Glouce:ter, il ncle to Lancaster faction,

the King, und Protector. Charies, Dauphin, and af. Duke of Bedford, uncle to terwards King of France.

the King, and Regent of Reignier, Duke of Anjouand France.

titular King of Naples. Cardinal Beaufort, Bishop of | Duke of Burgundy.

Winchejler, and uncle like- | Duke of Alanson. wife to the King;

Bastard of Orleans. Duke of Exeter, brother to Governor of Paris. King Henry IV.

Master Gunner of Orleans. Duke of Somerset.

Boy, his fon. Earl of Warwick.

An old jhepherd, father to Earl of Salisbury.

Joanla Pucelle,
Earl of Suffolk.
Lord Talbot.

Margaret, daughter to Reig, Young Talbot his son.

nier, and afterwards Richard Plantagenet, after Queen to King Henry.

wards Duke of York. Countes of Auvergne, Mortimer, Earl of March. ll Joan la Pucelle, a maid preSir John Fallaff

tending to be inspir'd from Woodvile, Lieut. of the heaven, and setting up for Torver.

the championess of France. Lord Mayor of London. Fiends, attending ber. Sir Thonias Gargrave. Sir William Glandsdale. Lords, Captains, Soldiers, Sir William Lucy.

Messengers, and several Vernon, of ihe l'hite Rose, attendants both on the Eng. or York fallion.

lish and French. The SCENE is partly in England, and partly in France.

*

Falfaff is introduced again, who was dead in Henry V. a:7. 2. f. 3. The reason is, because this play was ritten by Saakespeare betore Henry IV. or V. See the last lines of Henry V.

ACT

A C Τ Ι. S C Ε Ν Ε

I.

Westminster-abbey. Dead march. Enter the funeral of King Henry V. at

tended on by the Duke of Bedford, regent of France; the Duke of Glouceiter, Protector; the Duke of Exeter, and the Earl of Warwick, the Bishop of Win

chelter, and the Duke of Somerset. Bed. Y UNG be the heav'ns with black, yield day

to night! Comets, importing change of times * and

ftates, Brandish

your

crested treifes in the sky;
And with them fcourge the bad revolting stars,
That have consented unto Henry death!
Henry the Fifth, too famous to live long !
England ne'er lost a King of so much worth.

Glou. England ne'er had a King until his time.
Virtue he had, deserving to command.
His brandish'd sword did blind men with its beams;
His arms spread wider than a dragon's wings :
His sparkling eyes, replete with awful fire,
More dazzled and drove back his enemies,
Than mid-day fun fierce bent against their faces.
What should I say? his deeds exceed all speech:
He never lifted

up

his hand, but conquer'd. Exe. We mourn in black; why mourn we not in Henry is dead, and never shall revive : [blood? Upon a wooden coffin we attend ; And Death's dishonourable victory We with our stately prefence glorify, Like captives bound to a triumphant car. What? fhall we curse the planets of mishap, That plotted thus our glory's overthrow? Or shall we think the subtle witted French Conj’rers and forc'rers, that, afraid of him, By magic verse have thus contriv'd his end ?

Win. He was a King, bless'd of the King of Kings. Unto the French, the dreadful judgment-day sime, for Manners,

So

So dreadful will not be as was his fight.
The battles of the Lord of hosts he fought:
The church's pray'rs made him so prosperous.

Glou. The church? where is it? had not churchmen His thread of life had not so foon decay'd.

[pray'd None do you like but an effeminate prince, Whom, like a school-boy, you may overawe.

Win. Glo'ster, whate'er we like, thou art Protector, And lookelt to coinmand the prince and realm : Thy wife is proud; she holdeth thee in awe, More than god or religious churchmen may.

Glou. Name not religion, for thou lov'st the flesh, And ne'er throughout the year to church thou go'st, Except it be to pray against thy foes.

Bed. Cease, cease these jars, and rest your minds in
Let's to the altar; heralds, wait on us; [peace :
Instead of gold we'll offer up our arms,
Since arms avail not' now that Henry's dead !
Posterity await for wretched years,
When at their mother's moilt eyes babes shall fuck;
Our isle be made a marish of falt tears,
And none but women left to 'wail the dead !
Henry the Fifth ! thy ghost I invocate;
Profper this realm, keep it from civil broils,
Combat with adverse planets in the heavens !
A far more glorious star thy soul will make,
Than Julius Cæfar, or bright-
S C Ε Ν Ε ΙΙ.

Enter a Melenger.
Mel: My honourable lords, health to you all;
Sad tidings bring I to you out of France,
Of lofs, of slaughter, and discomfeiture ;
Guienne, Champaign, and Rheims, and Orleans,
Paris, Guysors, Poiciers, are all quite loft.

Bed. What fay'st thou, man, before dead Henry's Speak foftly, or the lofs of those great towns [corse ? Will make him burst his lead, and rise froin death.

Glou. Is Paris lost, and Roan yielded up?
If Henry were recall’d to life again,
These news would cause him once more yield the ghoft.

Exe. How were they lost? what treachery was us'd?"
Mell. No treachery, but want of men and money.

Among

1

337 Amongst the foldiers this is muttered, That here you maintain several factions ; And, whilft a field thould be dispatch'd and fought, You are difputing of your generals. One would have ling'ring wars with little colt; Another would fly Twift, but wanteth wings; A third man thinks, without expence at all, By guileful fair words, peace may be obtain'd. Awake, awake, English nobility! Let not lloth dim your honours, new-begot; Cropp'd are the flower-de-luces in your arms, Of England's coat one half is eut away,

Exe. Were our tears wanting to this funeral, These tidings would call forth their Howing tides.

Bed. Me they concern, Regent I am of France. Give me my teeled coat, I'll fight for France. Away with thete digraceful wailing robes: Wounds I will lend the French, initead of eyes, To

weep their intermillive mileries *. SCENE III. Enter to them another Melinger,

2 Mell. Lords, view these letters, full of bad milFrance is revolted froin the linglifl quite, [chance. Except fome petty towns of no import. The Dauphin Charles is crowned King in Rheims, The bullard Orleans with him is join'd' ; Reignier, Duke of Anjou, dotlı take his part, The Duke of Alanfon flies to his lide.

FExit Fae. The Dauphin crowned king' all fly to him O whither thall we Hy from this reproach?

Gilou. We will not fly but to our enemies' throats. Bedford, if thou be flack, I'll fight it out

Bed. Glo'lter, why doubt thout of my forwardness? An army have I multer'd in my thoughts, Wherewith already France is over: l'un.

SCENE IV. Enter a third Messenger. 3 11.1 My gracious Lorde, to add to your lamente, Wherewitli you now bedew King llenry's hearte, I mult inform you of u diinul fight

To their miferice, which have had only a thort intermilion from 1bxury v ovleatn tu my coming mingit them, VOL. IV.

U u

Betwixt

Betwixt the stout Lord Talbot and the French.

Win. What! wherein Talbot overcame? Is't fo?

3 Mej. O, no; wherein Lord Talbot was o’erthrown. The circumstance I'll tell you more at large. The tenth of Auguit last, this dreadful Lord Retiring from the fiege of Orleans, Having

scarce full fix thousand in his troop,
By three and twenty thousand of the French
Was roud incompassed and set upon.
No leisure had he to inrank his men.
He wanted pikes to set before his archers“;
Instead whereof, sharp stakes, pluok'd out of hedges,
They pitched in the ground confusedly,
To keep the horsemen off from breaking in.
More than three hours the fight continued ;
Where valiant Talbot above human thought
Enacted wonders with his sword and lance.
Hundreds he sent to hell, and none durst stand him:
Here, there, and every where, inrage'd he flew.
The French exclaim’d, “ The devil was in arms!”
All the whole army stood agaz'd on him.
His foldiers, spying his undaunted fpirit,
A Talbot! Talbot! cried out amain,
And rush'd into the bowels of the battle.
Here had the conquest fully been seal'd up,
If Sir John Falstaff had not play'd the coward;:
He being in the vaward, (place'd behind,
With purpose to relieve and follow them),
Cowardly fled, not having struck one stroke.
Hence grew the gen’ral wreck and mafsacre;
Inclosed were they with their enemies.
A base Walloon, to win the Dauphin's grace,
Thrust Talbot with a spear into the back;
Whom all France, with her chief assembled strength,
Durst not presume to look once in the face.

Bed. Is Talbot slain then? I will slay myself,
For living idly here in pomp and ease;
Whilft such a worthy leader, wanting aid,
Unto his daftard foe-men is betray'd.

3 Mel: O no! he lives, but is took prisoner, And Lord Scales with him, and Lord Hungerford; Most of the rest slaughter'd, or took likewile.

Bed.

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