KING HENRY VI.

Duke of GLOUCESTER, Uncle to the King, and Protector. Duke of BEDFORD, Uncle to the King, and Regent of France. Cardinal BEAUFORT, Bishop of Winchester, and great Uncle to the King.

Duke of EXETER, Brother to King Henry IV.

Duke of SOMERSET.
Earl of WARWICK.
Earl of SALISBURY.
Earl of SUFFOLK.
Lord TALBOT.

Young TALBOT, his Son.

RICHARD PLANTAGENET, afterwards Duke of York. MORTIMER, Earl of March.

Sir JOHN FALSTAFF.

WOODVILE, Lieutenant of the Tower.

Lord Mayor of LONDON.

VERNON, of the White Rofe, or York Faction.
BASSET, of the Red Rofe, or Lancafter Faction.
Sir THOMAS GARGRAVE.

CHARLES, Dauphin, and afterwards King of France.
REIGNIER, Duke of Anjou, and Titular King of Naples.
Duke of BURGUNDY.

Duke of ALANSON.

Baftard of ORLEANS.

An old Shepherd, Father to Joan la Pucelle.

MARGARET, Daughter to Reignier, and afterwards Queen to King Henry.

JOAN LA PUCELLE, a Maid pretending to be infpir'd from Heaven, and fetting up for the Championess of France. Countess of AUVERGNE.

Lords, Captains, Soldiers, Messengers, and several Attendants both on the English and French.

The SCENE is partly in England, and partly in

France.

THE

Dead March. Enter the Funeral of King Henry the Fifth, attended on by the Duke of Bedford, Regent of France; the Duke of Gloucester, Protector; the Duke of Exeter, and the Earl of Warwick, the Bishop of Winchester, and the Duke of Somerset.

Bed.

UNG be the heav'ns with black, yield day to night!

H

Comets, importing change Brandifh your crifped treffes in the sky,

of times and states,

And with them fcourge the bad revolting stars
That have confented unto Henry'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 brandish'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

More dazled and drove back his enemies

Than mid-day fun fierce bent against their faces.
What fhould I fay? his deeds exceed all speech:
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 shall revive:

Upon a wooden coffin we attend;
And death's dishonourable victory
We with our ftately prefence glorifie,
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
Conj'rers and forc'rers, that afraid of him
By magick verse 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 battels of the Lord of hafts he fought;

The church's pray'rs made him fo profperous.

Glou. 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 fchool-boy you may over-awe.

Win. Glo'fter, whate'er we like, thou art Protector,
And lookeft to command the Prince and realm;
Thy wife is proud, the 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 againft thy foes.

Bed. Ceafe, cease these jars, and reft your minds in peace : Let's to the altar: heralds, wait on us;

Inftead 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 moift eyes babes fhall fuck,

Our ifle be made a marish of falt tears,

And none but women left to 'wail the dead!

Henry

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
2 Than Julius Cæfar.

SCENE II. Enter a Messenger.
Me. My honourable Lords, health to you all!
Sad tidings bring I to you out of France,
Of lofs, of flaughter, and discomfiture;
Guienne, Champaign, and Rheims, and Orleans,

Paris, Guyfors, Poitiers, are all quite loft.

Bed. What fay'ft thou, man, before dead Henry's Coarfer
Speak foftly, or the lofs of thofe great towns
Will make him burft his lead, and rife from death.
Glou. Is Paris loft, and Orleans yielded up?

If Henry were recall'd to life again,

Thefe news would caufe him once more yield the ghoft.
Exe. How were they loft? what treachery was us'd?
Meff. No treachery, but want of men and mony.
Amongst the foldiers this is muttered,

That here you maintain fev'ral factions;
And whilft a field fhould be dispatch'd and fought,
You are difputing of your Generals.

One would have lingring wars with little coft;
Another would fly swift, 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,
These tidings would call forth * her 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 intermiflive miferies.

VOL. V.

* England's.

N

SCENE

SCENE III. Enter to them another Meffenger.

2 Me. Lords, view these 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 Orleans with him is join'd:
Reignier Duke of Anjou takes 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'ft thou of my forwardness?
An army have I muster'd in my thoughts,
Wherewith already France is over-run.

SCENE IV. Enter a Third Meffenger.
3 Mef. My gracious Lords, to add to your laments
Wherewith you now bedew King Henry's hearfe,
I must inform you of a dismal 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 Auguft 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;
Inftead whereof sharp ftakes pluckt out of hedges
They pitched in the ground confufedly,
To keep the horfemen 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 French exclaim'd, the devil was in arms,
All the whole army stood agaz'd on him.

His