KING Henry VI. Duke of Gloucefter, Unkle to the King, and Protector. Duke of Bedford, Unkle to the King, and Regent of France. Cardinal Beaufort, Bishop of Winchefter, and Unkle likewife to the King. Duke of Exeter. Duke of Somerfet. Earl of Warwick, Earl of Salisbury. Earl of Suffolk. Lord Talbot, Young Talbot, his Sen. "Richard Platagenet, afterwards Duke of York: Mortimer, Earl of March.. Woodvile, Lieutenant of the Tower. Lord Mayor of London. Vernon of the White Rofe, or York Faction, Charles, Dauphin, and afterwards King of France. Duke of Alenfon. 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, Meffengers, and feveral Attendants, both on the English and French. The SCENE is partly in England, and partly in France. The Firft PART of King HENRY VI ACT I SCENE I. 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. H BEDFORD. UNG be the Heavens with black, yield Comets importing change of Times Brandifh your Crystal Treffes in the And with them fcourge the bad re- That have confented unto Henry's Death: His His brandifh'd Sword did blind Men with his Beams, Exe. We mourn in Black, why mourn we not in Blood? Henry is dead, and never shall revive: Upon a wooden Coffin we attend; Had not Church-men pray'd, His thread of Life had not fo foon decay'd. Win. Glofter, whate'er we like, thou art Protector, Glo. Name not Religion, for thou lov'ft the Flesh, 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 When at their Mothers moift Eyes Babes fhäll fuck, And none but Women left to 'wail the dead. Enter a Meffenger. Meff My Honourable Lords, health to you all; Paris, Guyfors, Poitiers, are all quite loft. Bed. What fay'ft thou, Man, before dead Henry's Coarfe? Speak foftly, or the lofs of thofe great Towns Will make him burft bis Lead, and rife from Death. If Henry were recall'd to Life again, Thefe News would cause him once more yield the Ghoft. That here you maintain feveral Factions; One would have lingring Wars with little Coft; Let not Sloth dim your Honours, new begot; Exe. Were our Tears wanting to this Funeral, Wounds |