***

KING Henry VI.

Dramatis Perfonæ.

Duke of Gloucefter, Uncle to the King, and Protector.

Duke of Bedford, Uncle to the King, and Regent of France.

Cardinal Beauford, Bishop of Winchester, and Uncle likewife to the King.

Duke of Exeter,

Duke of Somerfet.
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 Faftolfe.

Woodvile, Lieutenant of the Tower.

Lord Mayor of London.

Thomas Gargrave.

Sir William Glanfdale.

Sir William Lucy.

Vernon, of the White Rofe, or York Faction.
Baflet, of the Red Rofe, or Lancafter Faction.

Charles, Dauphin, afterwards King of France.

Reignier, Duke of Anjou, and Titular King of Naples.

Duke of Burgundy.

Duke of Alanfon.

Bafard of Orleans.

Governor of Paris.

Mafter Gunner of Orleans.

Boy, his Son.

An old Shepherd, Father to Joan la Pucelle.

Margaret, Daughter to Reignier, and afterwards Queen to King Henry. Countess of Auvergne.'

Joan la Pucelle, a Maid pretending to be infpir'd from Heaven, and setting up for the Championess of France.

Fiends, attending her.

Lords, Captains, Soldiers, Meffengers, and several Attendants both on the

English and French.

The SCENE is partly in England, and partly in France.

THE

THE FIRST PART OF

King HENRY VI.

A C T I.

SCENE I.

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 Gloucester, Protector; the Duke of Exeter, and the Earl of Warwick, the Bishop of Winchester, and the Duke of Somerset.

BEDFORD.

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

HU

Comets, importing change of times and states,
Brandifh your cryftal treffes in the sky;

And with them fcourge the bad revolting ftars,
That have confented unto Henry's death!
Henry the Fifth, too famous to live long!
England ne'er lost a King of so much worth.

Glou. England ne'er had a King until his time:
Virtue he had, deferving to command.

His brandifh'd fword did blind men with its beams;
His arms spread wider than a Dragon's wings:
His fparkling eyes replete with awful fire,
More dazzled and drove back his enemies,
Than mid-day fun fierce bent against their faces.
What should 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 fhall revive:
Upon a wooden coffin we attend:
And death's dishonourable 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 subtle-witted French
Conj'rers and forc'rers, that, afraid of him,
By magic verfe 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 battles of the Lord of hofts he fought:
The church's pray'rs made him fo profperous.

Glou. The church? where is it? had not churchmen 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 church men may.

Glou. Name not religon, for thou lov'ft the flesh; And ne'er throughout the year to church thou go'st, Except it be to pray against thy foes.

Bed. Ceafe, ceafe thefe 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 mother's moift eyes babes fhall fuck;

* Our

* Our ifle be made a Marish 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 ftar thy foul will make,
Than Julius Cæfar, or bright-

Mell. M

Y honourable lords, health to you all;
Sad tidings bring I to you out of France,

Of lofs, of flaughter, and difcomfiture;

Guienne, Champaign, and Rheims, and Orleans,
Paris, Guyfors, Poitiers, are all quite loft,

Bed. What fay'ft thou, man, before dead Henry's

coarse?

Speak foftly, or the lofs of thofe great towns
Will make him burft his lead, and rise from death.
Glou. Is Paris loft, and Roan yielded up?

If Henry were recall'd to life again,

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

That here you maintain fev'ral factions;

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

Our ifle be made a Marifh of falt tears, Thus it is (fays Mr. Theobald) in both the Impreffions of Mr. Pope; but upon what authority I cannet fay. All the old Copies read a Nourish: And confidering it is faid in the Line immediately preceding, that Babes fhould fuck at their Mothers moift Eyes, it feems very probable that our Author wrote a Nourice. i. e. that the whole Ifland fhould be one common Nurfe or Nourisher of Tears, &c. Was there ever fuch Nonfenfe! But he did not know that Marish is an old Word for Marsh or Fen; and therefore very Judiciously thus Corrected by Mr. Pope.

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