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Actus Primus. Scæna Prima.

[Westminster Abbey.]

Dead March. Enter the Funerall of King Henry the Fift, attended on by the Duke of Bedford, Regent of France; the Duke of Gloster, Protector; the Duke of Exeter Warwicke, the Bishop of Winchester, and the Duke of Somerset.




Comets importing change of Times and States, Brandish your crystall Tresses in the Skie, And with them scourge the bad revolting Stars, That have consented unto Henries death: King Henry the Fift, too famous to live long, England ne're lost a King of so much worth.

Glost. England ne're had a King untill his time: Vertue he had, deserving to command, His brandisht Sword did blinde men with his beames, His Armes spred wider then a Dragons Wings: His sparkling Eyes, repleat with wrathfull fire,


More dazled and drove back his Enemies,
Then mid-day Sunne, fierce bent against their faces.
What should I say? his Deeds exceed all speech:
He ne're lift up his Hand, but conquered.

Exe. We mourne in black, why mourn we not in blood?
Henry is dead, and never shall revive:
Upon a Woodden Coffin we attend;
And Deaths dishonourable Victorie,
We with our stately presence glorifie,
Like Captives bound to a Triumphant Carre.

30 What? shall we curse the Planets of Mishap, That plotted thus our Glories overthrow? Or shall we thinke the subtile-witted French, Conjurers and Sorcerers, that afraid of him, By Magick Verses have contriv'd his end.

Winch. He was a King, blest of the King of Kings. Unto the French, the dreadfull Judgement-Day So dreadfull will not be, as was his sight. The Battailes of the Lord of Hosts he fought: The Churches Prayers made him so prosperous.

40 Glost. The Church? where is it? Had not Church-men pray’d, His thred of Life had not so soone decay’d. None doe you like, but an effeminate Prince, Whom like a Schoole-boy you may over-awe.

Winch. Gloster, what ere we like, thou art Protector, And lookest to command the Prince and Realme. Thy Wife is prowd, she holdeth thee in awe, More then God or Religious Church-men may. 49

Glost. Name not Religion, for thou lov’st the Flesh, And ne're throughout the yeere to Church thou go'st, Except it be to pray against thy foes.

41-2. 1 l.-Pope.

Bed. Cease, cease these Jarres,& rest your minds in peace:

: Let's to the Altar: Heralds wayt on us; In stead of Gold, wee’le offer up our Armes, Since Armes avayle not, now that Henry's dead, Posteritie await for wretched

When at their Mothers moistned eyes, Babes shall suck,
Our Ile be made a Nourishi of salt Teares, Inurse
And none but Women left to wayle the dead. 60
Henry the Fift, thy Ghost I invocate:
Prosper this Realme, keepe it from Civill Broyles,
Combat with adverse Planets in the Heavens;
A farre more glorious Starre thy Soule will make,
Then Julius Cæsar, or bright--

Enter a Messenger.
Mess. My honourable Lords, health to you all:
Sad tidings bring I to you out of France,
Of losse, of slaughter, and discomfiture:
Guyen, Champaigne, Rheimes, Orleance,

70 Paris, Guysors, Poictiers, are all quite lost.

Bedf. What say'st thou man, before dead Henry's Coarse? | Speake softly, or the losse of those great Townes Will make him burst his Lead, and rise from death.

Glost. Is Paris lost ? is Roan yeelded up? If Henry were recall’d to life againe, These news would cause him once more yeeld the Ghost.

Exe. How were they lost? what trecherie was us’d?

Mess. No trecherie, but want of Men and Money. Amongst the Souldiers this is muttered,

80 That here


maintaine severall Factions: And whilst a Field should be dispatcht and fought, 58. moistned: moist-2-4F.

59. Ile: isle-3-4F. 75. Roan: Rouen, and so throughout-STEEVENS.

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You are disputing of your Generals.
One would have lingring Warres, with little cost;
Another would Aye swift, but wanteth Wings:
A third thinkes, without expence at all,
By guilefull faire words, Peace may be obtayn'd.
Awake, awake, English Nobilitie,
Let not slouth dimme your Honors, new begot;
Cropt are the Flower-de-Luces in


90 Of Englands Coat, one halfe is cut away.

Exe. Were our Teares wanting to this Funerall, These Tidings would call forth her flowing Tides.

Bedf. Me they concerne, Regent I am of France: Give me my steeled Coat, Ile fight for France. Away with these disgracefull wayling Robes ; Wounds will I lend the French, in stead of Eyes, To weepe their intermissive Miseries.

Enter to them another Messenger. Mess. Lords view these Letters, full of bad mischance. France is revolted from the English quite, Except some petty Townes, of no import. The Dolphin Charles is crowned King in Rheimes: The Bastard of Orleance with him is joyn’d: Reynold, Duke of Anjou, doth take his part, The Duke of Alanson flyeth to his side. Exit.

Exe. The Dolphin crown'd King? all Aye to him? O whither shall we Aye from this reproach?

Glost. We will not flye, but to our enemies throats. Bedford, if thou be slacke, Ile fight it out.

Bed. Gloster, why doubtst thou of my forwardnesse?


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93. ber: their-Theobald. 103. Dolphin: Dauphin, and so throughout-RowE. 103. Rbeimes: Rheims-Rowe. 104. Orleance: Orleans, and so throughout-RowE.

105. Reynold: Reignier-Rowe.

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