OF

HENRY VI

ACT I

SCENE 1. Westminster-Abbey.

Dead March. Enter the Funeral of King Henry the Fifth, attended on by the Duke of BEDFORD, Regent of France; the Duke of GLOSTER, Protector; the Duke of EXETER, and the Earl of WARWICK; the Bishop of WINCHESTER, and the Duke of SOMERSET, SC. Bedford.

H

UNG be the heavens with black, yield day to
night!

Comets, importing change of times and states,
Brandifh your crystal treffes in the sky;
And with them fcourge the bad revolting stars,
That have confented unto Henry's death!
Henry the fifth, two famous to live long!
England ne'er loft a king of so much worth.

Glo. England ne'er had a king, until his time.
Virtue he had, deferving to command:
His brandifh'd fword did blind men with his beams;
His arms fpread wider than a dragon's wings;
His fparkling eyes, replete with wrathful fire,
More dazzled and drove back his enemies,
Than mid-day fun, fierce bent against their faces.
What fhould I fay? his deeds exceed all fpeech;

He ne'er lift up his hand, but conquered.

Exe. We mourn in black; Why mourn we not in Henry is dead, and never fhall revive; [blood?

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,
That plotted thus our glory's overthrow?
Or fhall we think the fubtle-witted French
Conjurers and forcerers, that, afraid of him,
By magic verfes have 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 hofts he fought:
The church's prayer made him fo profperous.
Glo. The church! where is it? Had not church.
men 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 churchmen, may.

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

Bed. Ceafe, ceafe these jars, and rest 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,

Pofterity, await for wretched years,

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

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 star thy foul will make,
Than Julius Cæfar, or bright-

Enter a Meffenger.

Meff. My honourable lords, health to you all! Sad tidings bring I to you out of France, Of lofs, of flaughter, and difcomfiture: Guienne, Champaigne, Rheims, Orleans, Paris, Guyfors, Poitiers, are all quite loft. Bed. What fay'st thou, man, before dead Henry's corfe?

Speak foftly; or the lofs of thofe great towns Will make him burst his lead, and rise from death. Glo. Is Paris loft? is 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? Meff. No treachery; but want of men, and money. Among the foldiers this is muttered

That here you maintain feveral factions;

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

One would have ling'ring 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.

B

Awake,

Awake, awake, English nobility!

Let not floth dim your honours, new-begot:
Crop'd are the fleur-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 thefe difgraceful wailing robes! Wounds I will lend the French, instead of eyes, To weep their intermiffive miferies.

Enter to them another Meffenger.

2 Meff. Lord, view thefe letters, full of bad mifchance,

France is revolted from the English quite;
Except fome petty towns of no import:

The dauphin Charles is crowned king in Rheims;
The baftard of Orleans with him is join'd;
Reignier, duke of Anjou, doth take his part;
The duke of Alençon flieth to his fide.

[Exit, Exe. The dauphin crowned king! all fly to him! O, whither fhall we fly from this reproach?

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

Bed. Glofter, why doubt'f thou of my forwardAn army have I mufter'd in my thoughts, [nefs? Wherewith already France is over-run.

Enter a third Meffenger.

3 Meff. My gracious lords-to add to your la

ments,

Wherewith you now bedew king Henry's hearfeI must inform you of a difmal fight,

Betwixt

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 circumstance I'll tell you more at large.
The tenth of Auguft laft, this dreadful lord,
Retiring from the fiege of Orleans,

Having full fcarce fix thoufand 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, sharp stakes, pluck'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 fword and lancé.
Hundreds he fent to hell, and none durft ftand him
Here, there, and every where, enrag'd he flew :;
The French exclaim'd, The devil was in arms;
All the whole army stood agaz'd on him ;
His foldiers fpying his undaunted spirit,
A Talbot! a Talbot! cried out amain,
And rufh'd into the bowels of the battle.
Here had the conqueft fully been feal'd up,
If Sir John Faftolfe had not played the coward;
He being in the vaward (plac'd behind,
With purpose to relieve and follow them)
Cowardly fled, not having ftruck one stroke.
Hence grew the general wreck and maffacre;A
Enclosed were they with their enemies :

A bafe Walloon to win the dauphin's grace,
Thrust Talbot with a spear into the back
B 2

Whom