To cross the feas, and to be crown'd in France
The prefence of a King engenders love
Amongst his fubjects and his loyal friends,
As it difanimates his enemies.

[goes;

K. Henry. When Glofter fays the word, King Henry

For friendly counsel cuts off many foes.

Glou. Your fhips already are in readiness.

Manet Exeter.

[Exeunt.

Exe. Ay, we may march in England or in France,
Not feeing what is likely to enfue;

This late diffention, grown betwixt the peers,
Burns under feigned afhes of forg'd love;
And will at laft break out into a flame.
As fefter'd members rot but by degrees,
'Till bones, and flesh, and finews, fall away;
So will this bafe and envious difcord breed.
And now I fear that fatal Prophecy,

Which in the time of Henry, nam'd the Fifth,
Was in the mouth of ev'ry fucking babe;
That Henry, born at Monmouth, fhould win all;
And Henry, born at Windfor, fhould lofe all:
Which is fo plain, that Exeter doth wish,
His days may finish ere that hapless time.

[Exit.

SCENE changes to Roan in France. Enter Joan la Pucelle difguis'd, and four Soldiers with Sacks upon their backs.

T

Pucel. Hefe are the city-gates, the gates of Roan, Thro' which our policy must make a breach.

Take heed, be wary, how you place your words;

Talk like the vulgar fort of market-men,
That come to gather mony for their corn.
If we have entrance, (as, I hope, we shall ;)
And that we find the flothful Watch but weak,
I'll by a fign give notice to our friends;
That Charles the Dauphin may encounter them.
Sol. Our Sacks fhall be a mean to fack the city,
And we be lords and rulers over Roan;

Therefore we'll knock.

Watch. Qui va là?

[Knocks.

Pucel.

Pucel. Paifans, pauvres gens de France.

Poor market-folks, that come to fell their corn.
Watch. Enter, go in, the market-bell is rung.

Pucel. Now, Roan, I'll fhake thy bulwarks to the
ground.
[Exeunt.

Enter Dauphin, Baftard, and Alanson.
Dau. St. Dennis bless this happy fratagem!
And once again we'll fleep fecure in Roan.
Baft. Here enter'd Pucelle, and her practifants:
Now fhe is there, how will fhe fpecifie
Where is the best and fafeft paffage in?

Reig. By thrufting out a torch from yonder tow'r,
Which, once difcern'd, fhews, that her meaning is,
No way to that (for weakness) which fhe enter'd.

Enter Joan la Pucelle on the top, thrufting out a torch burning.

Pucel. Behold, this is the happy wedding torch, That joineth Roan unto her countrymen ;

But burning fatal to the Talbotites.

Baft. See, noble Charles, the beacon of our friend, The burning torch in yonder turret ftand.

Dau. Now fhines it like a comet of revenge,

A prophet to the fall of all our foes.

Reig. Defer no time, delays have dangerous ends; Enter and cry, The Dauphin! prefently,

And then do execution on the Watch.

[An Alarm; Talbot in an Excurfion. Tal. France, thou fhalt rue this treafon with thy tears. If Talbot but furvive thy treachery.

Pucelle, that witch, that damned forcerefs,
Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares;

That hardly we efcap'd the prize of France. (11) [Ex.

An

(11) That hardly we efcap'd the Pride of France.] All the Copies concur in this reading: but it feems to be an abfurd and unmeaning one. The best Conftruction, that can arife from efcaping the Pride of France, is, efcaping the proud French : which would come very improperly from Talbot's 'Mouth. I

have

An alarm: Excurfions. Bedford brought in, fick, in a chair. Euter Talbot and Burgundy, without; within, Joan la Pucelle, Dauphin, Baftard, and Reignier, on the walls.

Pucel. Good morrow, gallants, want ye corn for bread? I think, the Duke of Burgundy will fast, Before he'll buy again at fuch a rate.

'Twas full of darnel; do you like the tafte?

Burg. Scoff on, vile fiend, and fhameless curtizan! I truft, ere long to choak thee with thine own; And make thee curfe the harveft of that corn.

Dau. Your Grace may ftarve, perhaps, before that time. Bed. Oh let not words, but deeds, revenge this treafon ! Pucel. What will you do, good grey beard? break a And run a-tilt at death within a chair? [lance, Tal. Foul fiend of France, and hag of all defpight, Incompass'd with thy luftful paramours, Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age, And twit with cowardife a man half dead? Damfel, I'll have a bout with you again, Or elfe let Talbot perish with his fhame.

Pucel. Are you fo hot? yet, Pucelle, hold thy Peace; If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow.

[They whisper together in counfel. God fpeed the parliament! who fhall be the fpeaker? Tal. Dare ye come forth, and meet us in the field? Pucel. Belike, your lordship takes us then for fools, To try if that our own be ours, or no.

Tal. I fpeak not to that railing Hecate,

But unto thee, Alanson, and the rest.

Will ye, like foldiers, come and fight it out?
Alan. Seignior, no.

Tal. Seignior, hang: bafe muleteers of France ! Like peafant foot-boys do they keep the walls,

have ventur'd to suppose, our Author wrote, the Prize : i, e. We hardly escap'd being feiz'd by, becoming the Prize of the French. So likewife in the French Tongue, la Prife fignifies the Seizure, or apprehending of any thing, as well as the Thing Seized

And

And dare not take up arms like gentlemen.

Pucel. Captains, away; let's get us from the walls, For Talbot means no goodness by his looks.

God be wi' you, my lord: we came, Sir, but to tell you
That we are here.
[Exeunt from the walls.
·Tal. And there will we be too, ere it be long,

Or elfe reproach be Talbot's greatest fame!
Vow, Burgundy, by honour of thy House,
Prick'd on by publick wrongs fuftain'd in France,
Either to get the town again, or die.
And I, as fure as English Henry lives,
And as his father here was Conqueror,
As fure as in this late-betrayed town
Great Ceurdelion's heart was buried;
So fure I fwear, to get the town, or die.

Burg. My vows are equal partners with thy vows.
Tal. But ere we go, regard this dying Prince,
The valiant Duke of Bedford: come, my lord,
We will bestow you in fome better place;
Fitter for fickness, and for crazy age.

Bed. Lord Talbot, do not fo dishonour me:
Here I will fit before the walls of Roan,
And will be partner of your weal and woe.

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 fhould revive the foldiers' hearts;
Because I ever found them as my felf.

Tal. Undaunted fpirit in a dying breast!
Then be it fo: heav'ns keep old Bedford fafe!
And now no more ado, brave Burgundy,
But gather we our forces out of hand,

And fet upon our boasting enemy.

[Exit.

An Alarum: excurfions: Enter Sir John Faftolfe, and

a Captain.

Cap. Whither away, Sir John Faftolfe, in fuch haste ? Faft. 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?

Faft.

Faft. Ay, all the Talbots in the world to fave my life, [Exit.

Cap. Cowardly Knight, ill fortune follow thee! [Exit. Retreat: excurfions. Pucelle, Alanson, 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 fcoffs,
Are glad and fain by flight to fave themselves.

[Dies; and is carried off in his chair.

SCENE, within the walls of Roan. An Alarm: Enter Talbot, Burgundy, and the reft. OST and recover'd in a day again ?

Tal. L

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.

Now where's the Baftard's braves, and Charles his glikes? 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;
But 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 muft die,
For that's the end of human mifery.

[Exeunt.

Enter Dauphin, Baftard, Alanfon, and Joan la Pucelle. Pucel. Difmay not, Princes, at this accident,

Nor