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Burg. Couragious Bedford, let us now perfuade you.
Bed. Not to be gone from hence: for once I read,
That ftout Pendragon in his litter fick

Came to the field and vanquished his foes.
Methinks I should revive the foldiers hearts,
Because I ever found them as my felf.

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Tal. Undaunted spirit in a dying breast!

Then be it fo: heav'ns keep old Bedford safe!
And now no more ado, brave Burgundy,
But gather we our forces out of hand,
And fet upon our boasting enemy.

[Exit.

An alarm: excurfions: Enter Sir John Falstaff, and a Captain. Cap. Whither away, Sir John Falstaff, in fuch halte? Fal, Whither away? to fave my felf by flight.

We are like to have the overthrow again.

Cap. What! will you fly and leave Lord Talbot?
Fal. Ay,

All the Talbots in the world to fave my life.

[Exit.

Cap. Cowardly Knight, ill fortune follow thee! [Exit, Retreat: excurfions. Pucelle, Alanfon, and Dauphin fly. Bed. Now, quiet foul, depart when heav'n fhall please! For I have feen our enemies overthrow.

What is the truft or ftrength of foolish man?
They that of late were daring with their scoffs,
Are glad and fain by flight to fave themselves.

[Dies, and is carried off in bis chair. SCENE VI.

An alarm: Enter Talbot, Burgundy, and the rest. Tal. Loft and recover'd in a day again?

This is a double honour, Burgundy;

Yet heav'ns have glory for this victory!

Burg. Warlike and martial Talbot, Burgundy

Infhrines thee in his heart, and there erects

Thy noble deeds as valour's monuments.

Tal. Thanks, gentle Duke; but where is Pucelle now? I think her old familiar is afleep.

Falstaff is here introduced again, who was dead in Henry the Fifth, Act 2, Scene 3; the occafion whereof is, that this Play was written by Shakespear before Hen. 4. or Hen. 5. See the laft lines of Hen. 5.

Now

Now where's the baftard's braves, and Charles his gleeks?
What, all a-mort? Roan hangs her head for grief,
That fuch a valiant company are fled.

Now we will take fome order in the town,
Placing therein fome expert officers,
And then depart to Paris to the King;
For there young Henry with his Nobles lyes.

Burg. What wills Lord Talbot, pleaseth Burgundy.
Tal. But yet before we go let's not forget
The noble Duke of Bedford, late deceas'd,
Bút fee his exequies fulfill'd in Roan.
A braver foldier never couched launce,
A gentler heart did never fway in Court.
But Kings and mightiest Potentates must die,
For that's the end of human mifery.

SCENE VII.

[Exeunts

Enter Dauphin, Baftard, Alanfon, and Joan la Pucelle.
Pucel. Difmay not, Princes, at this accident,
Nor grieve that Roan is fo recovered.

Care is no cure, but rather corrofive,
For things that are not to be remedy'd.
Let frantick Talbot triumph for a while,
And like a Peacock fweep along his tail;
We'll pull his plumes and take away his train,
If Dauphin and the reft will be but rul'd.

Dau. We have been guided by thee hitherto,
And of thy cunning had no diffidence.
One fudden foil fhall never breed diftruft.

Baft. Search out thy wit for fecret policies,
And we will make thee famous through the world.
Alan. We'll fet thy ftatue in fome holy place,
And have thee reverenc'd like a bleffed Saint.
Employ thee then, fweet virgin, for our good.
Pucel. Then thus it must be, this doth Joan devife:
By fair perfwafions mix'd with fugar'd words,
We will entice the Duke of Burgundy

To leave the Talbot, and to follow us.

Dau. Ay marry, fweeting, if we could do that,
France were no place for Henry's warriors;
Nor fhall that nation boast it fo with us,

But be extirped from our provinces.

Alan. For ever fhould they be expuls'd from France, And not have title of an Earldom here.

Pucel. Your honours fhall perceive how I will work, To bring this matter to the wished end. [ Drum beats afar off. Hark, by the found of drum you may perceive

Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward.

[Here beat an English march.

[French march

There goes the Talbot with his colours spread,
And all the troops of English after him.
Now in the rereward comes the Duke and his:
Fortune in favour makes him lag behind.
Summon a parley, we will talk with him.

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[Trumpets found a parley. SCENE VIII. Enter the Duke of Burgundy marching. Dau. A parley with the Duke of Burgundy. Burg. Who craves a parley with the Burgundy? Pucel. The Princely Charles of France, thy countryman. Burg. What fay'ft thou, Charles? for I am marching hence. Dau. Speak, Pucelle, and enchant him with thy words. Pucel. Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France, Stay, let thy humble hand-maid speak to thee. Burg. Speak on, but be not over-tedious.

Pucel. Look on thy country, look on fertile France, And fee the cities and the towns defac'd

By wafting ruin of the cruel foe.

As looks the mother on her lowly babe,
When death doth close his tender dying eyes;
See, see the pining malady of France.

Behold the wounds, the most unnat❜ral wounds,
Which thou thy felf haft giv'n her woful breast.
Oh, turn thy edged fword another way,

Strike those that hurt, and hurt not thofe that help:
One drop of blood drawn from thy country's bofom
Should grieve thee more than streams of common gore;
Return thee therefore with a flood of tears,
And wash away thy country's ftained fpots.

Burg. Either the hath bewitch'd me with her words,
Or nature makes me fuddenly relent.

Pucel. Befides, all French and France exclaim on thee,

Doubting

Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny.

Whom join'ft thou with, but with a lordly nation
That will not truft thee but for profit's fake?
When Talbot hath fet footing once in France,
And fashion'd thee that inftrument of ill;
Who then but English Henry will be Lord,
And thou be thruft out like a fugitive ?
Call we to mind and mark but this for proof;
Was not the Duke of Orleans thy foe?
And was not he in England prifoner?
But when they heard he was thine enemy,
They fet him free without his ranfom paid,
In fpight of Burgundy and all his friends.
See then, thou fight'ft against thy countrymen,
And join'ft with them will be thy flaughter-men.
Come, come, return, return, thou wand'ring Lord,
Charles and the reft will take thee in their arms.

Burg. I'm vanquished. These haughty words of hers Have batter'd me like roaring cannon-shot, And made me almoft yield upon my knees. Forgive me, country and fweet countrymen ; And, Lords, accept this hearty kind embrace. My forces and my pow'r of men are yours. So farewel, Talbot, I'll no longer truft thee.

Pucel. Done like a Frenchman: turn, and turn again. Dau. Welcome,brave Duke,thy friendship makes us fresh. Baft. And doth beget new courage in our breafts. Alan. Pucelle hath bravely play'd her part in this, And doth deferve a coronet of gold.

Dau. Now let us on, my Lords, and join our powers, And feek how we may prejudice the foe. [Exeunt. SCENE IX. PARIS. Enter King Henry, Gloucester, Winchefter, York, Suffolk, Somerfet, Warwick, Exeter, &c. To them, Talbot with his Soldiers. Tal. My gracious Prince and honourable Peers,

Hearing of your arrival in this realm,

I have a while giv'n truce unto my wars,

To do my duty to my Sovereign.

In fign whereof, this arm that hath reclaim'd

To your obedience fifty fortreffes,

Cc 3

Twelv

Twelve cities, and fev'n walled towns of ftrength,
Befide five hundred prifoners of efteem;
Lets fall the fword before your Highness' feet:
And with fubmiffive loyalty of heart
Afcribes the glory of his conqueft got,

First to my God, and next unto your Grace.

K. Henry. Is this the fam'd Lord Talbot, uncle Glofter, That hath fo long been refident in France?

Glou. Yes, if it pleafe your Majefty, my Liege.

K. Henry. Welcome, brave Captain and victorious Lord! When I was young (as yet I am not old) I was remember'd how my father faid, A ftouter champion never handled fword. Long fince we were refolved of your truth, Your faithful fervice and your toil in war; Yet never have you tafted our reward, Or been reguerdon'd with so much as thanks, Becaufe 'till now we never faw your face: Therefore stand up, and for these good deserts, We here create you Earl of Shrewsbury, And in our coronation take your place.

Manent Vernon and Baffet.

Ver. Now, Sir, to you that were fo hot at sea, Difgracing of these colours that I wear

In honour of my noble Lord of York;

[Exeunt.

Dar'ft thou maintain the former words thou spak'st?
Baf. Yes, Sir, as well as you dare patronage
The envious barking of your fawcy tongue

Against my Lord, the Duke of Somerfet.

Ver. Sirrah, thy Lord I honour as he is.

Baf. Why, what is he? as good a man as York. Ver.Hark ye; not fo: in witness take you that. [ Strikes bim. Baf. Villain, thou know'ft the law of arms is fuch

That whofo draws a fword 'tis present death,

Or else this blow fhould broach thy dearest blood.
But I'll unto his Majefty, and crave

I may have liberty to venge this wrong,
When thou shalt fee I'll meet thee to thy coft.

Ver. Well, mifcreant, I'll be there as foon as you,
And after meet you fooner than you would.

[Exeunt.

ACT

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