2

* Brandish your cryftal treffes in the sky,
And with them fcourge the bad revolting stars,
That have confented unto Harry's death!
Henry the Fifth, too famous to live long!
England ne'er loft a King of fo much worth.

Glou. England ne'er had a King until his time:
Virtue he had, deferving to command.

His brandifh'd fword did blind men with its beams,
His arms fpread wider than a Dragon's wings,
His fparkling eyes, repleat with awful fire,
More dazzled and drove back his enemies,
Than mid day fun fierce bent against their faces.
What should I fay? his deeds exceed all fpeech:
He never lifted up his hand but conquer'd.

Exe. We mourn in black; why mourn we not in blood?

Henry is dead, and never fhall revive:

Upon a wooden coffin we attend:
And death's difhonourable victory
We with our ftately prefence glorify,
Like captives bound to a triumphant car.
What? fhall we curfe the planets of mishap,

the 2d Part, Dame Eleanor Cobtam is introduced to infult Q. Margaret; though her Penance and Banifhment for Sorcery happened three Years before that Princefs came over to England. I could point out many other Tranfgreffions against Hiftory, as far as the Order of Time is concerned. Indeed, tho' there are feveral Mater-Strokes in thefe three Plays, which inconteftably betray the Workmanship of Shakepcare; yet I am almost doubtful, whether they were entirely of his Writing. And unless they were wrote by him very early, Ihould rather imagine them to

That plotted thus our glory's overthrow ?
Or fhall we think 3 the fubtle-witted French
Conj'rers and forc'rers, that, afraid of him,
By magick verfe have thus contriv'd his end?
Win. He was a King, bleft of the King of Kings.
Unto the French, the dreadful judgment-day
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 fo profperous.

Glou. The church? where is it? had not churchmen pray'd,

His thread of life had not fo foon decay'd.
None do you like but an effeminate Prince,
Whom, like a School-boy, you may over-awe.

Win. Glofter, whate'er we like, thou art Protector.
And lookeft to command the Prince and realm;
Thy wife is proud; fhe holdeth thee in awe,
More than God, or religious church-men may.

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

Bed. Ceafe, ceafe these jars, and reft your minds in peace.

Let's to the altar. Heralds, wait on us.

Instead of gold we'll offer up our arms,
Since arms avail not now that Henry's dead.

Pofterity await for wretched years,

When at their mothers' moist eyes babes fhall fuck; + Our ifle be made a nourish of falt tears,

3 The Subtle-witted French, &c.] There was a notion prevalent a long time, that life might be taken away by metrical charms. As fuperftition grew weaker these charms were imagined only to have power on irrational animals. In our authour's time it was fup

And

pofed that the Irish could kill rats by a fong.

4 Our Ifle be made a Marish of

falt Tears,] Thus it is in both the Impreffions by Mr. Pope: upon what Authority, I cannot fay. All the old Copies read, a Nourish: and confidering it is

And none but women left to 'wail the dead.
Henry the Fifth thy ghoft I invocate;
Profper this realm, keep it from civil broils,
Combat with adverse planets in the heavens;
A far more glorious ftar thy foul will make,
Than Julius Cafar, or bright-

SCENE II.

Enter a Mejenger.

Mess. My honourable Lords, health to you
Sad tidings bring I to you out of France,
Of lofs, of flaughter, and difcomfiture;
Guienne, Champaign, and Rheims, and Orleans,
Paris, Guyfors, Poitiers, are all quite lost.

all.

Bed. What fay'ft thou, man?-Before dead Henry's coarse?

Speak foftly, or the lofs of thofe great towns
Will make him burst his lead, and rise from death.

filled up with-Francis Drake,tho' that were a terrible anachronifm; (as bad as Hector's quoting Ariftotle in Troilus and Cref fida) yet perhaps at the time that brave Englishman was in his glory, to an English-hearted audience, and pronounced by fome favourite actor, the thing might be popular, tho' not judicious; and therefore by fome critick in favour of the author afterwards ftruck out. But this is a mere flight conjecture. РОРЕ.

To confute the light conjecture of Pope a whole page of vehement oppofition is annexed to this paffage by Theobald. Sir T. Harmer has flopped at Cafar-perhaps more judiciously.

Glou.

Glou. Is Paris loft, 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 loft? what treachery was us'd?
Melf. No treachery, but want of men and
Among the foldiers this is muttered,

That here you maintain fev'ral factions,

mony.

And, whilft a field fhould be difpatch'd and fought,
You are difputing of your Generals.

One would have lingring wars with little coft;
Another would fly fwift, 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 floth dim your honours, new-begot;
Crop'd are the Flower-de-luces in your Arms,
Of England's Coat one half is cut away.

Exe. Were our tears wanting to this funeral,
Thefe tidings would call forth their flowing tides.
Bed. Me they concern. Regent I am of France.
Give me my steeled coat, I'll fight for France.
Away with these difgraceful, wailing robes;
Wounds I will lend the French, inftead of eyes,
To weep their intermiffive miferies.

SCENE III.

Enter to them another Meffenger.

2 Me. Lords, view thefe letters, full of bad mif chance.

France is revolted from the English quite,

Except fome petty towns of no import.
The Dauphin Charles is crowned King in Rheims,

6 To weep their intermiffive miferies. i. e. their miteries, which have had only a fhort

intermiffion from Henry the Fifth's death to my coming amongst them. WARBURTON.

The bastard Orleans with him is join'd,

Reignier, Duke of Anjou, doth take his part,
The Duke of Alanfon flies to his fide.

[Exit. Exe. The Dauphin crowned King? all fly to him? O, whither fhall we fly from this reproach?

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

Bed. Glofter, why doubt'st thou of my forwardness? An army have I muster'd in my thoughts, Wherewith already France is over-run.

SCENE IV.

Enter a third Messenger.

3 Meff. My gracious Lords, to add to your lament Wherewith you now bedew King Henry's hearse, I must inform you of a difmal fight

Betwixt the ftout Lord Talbot and the French.

Win. What! wherein Talbot overcame? is't fo?
3 Meff. O, no; wherein Lord Talbot was o'er-
thrown.

The circumftance I'll tell you more at large.
The tenth of August laft, 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 round encompaffed and fet upon.
No leifure had he to enrank his men,
He wanted pikes to fet before his archers,
Instead whereof fharp ftakes pluckt 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 fword and lance.
Hundreds he fent to hell, and none durft ftand him,
Here, there, and every where, enrag'd he flew,

The