And have our Bodies flaughter'd by thy Foes.
1 Serv. Ay, and the very parings of our Nails
Shall pitch a Field when we are dead.
Glo. Stay, ftay, I fay,

And if you love me, as you fay you do,
Let me perfwade you to forbear a while.

[Begin again.

K. Henry. O how this Discord doth afflict my Soul!
Can you, my Lord of Winchester, behold
My Sighs and Tears, and will not once relent?
Who fhould be pitiful, if you be not?
Or who should study to prefer a Peace,
If Holy Church-Men take delight in Broils?
War. Yield my Lord Protector, yield Winchester;
Except you mean with obftinate Repulfe

To flay your Sovereign, and destroy the Realm.
You fee what Mischief, and what Murther too,
Hath been enacted through your Enmity:
Then be at Peace, except ye thirst for Blood.
Win. He fhall fubmit, or I will never yield.
Glo. Compaffion on the King commands me stoop,
Or I would fee his Heart out, ere the Prieft
Should ever get that privilege of me.

War. Behold, my Lord of Winchester, the Duke
Hath banish'd moody discontented Fury,
And by his fmoothed Brows it doth appear
Why look you ftill fo Stern and Tragical?

Glo. Here, Winchester, I offer thee my Hand.
K. Henry. Fie, Uncle Beauford, I have heard you preach,
That Malice was a great and grievous Sin:

And will not you maintain the thing you teach?
But prove a chief Offender in the fame,

War. Sweet King; the Bishop hath a kindly gird:
For Shame, my Lord of Winchester, relent;
What,, fhall a Child inftruct you what to do?
Win. Well, Duke of Glofter, I will yield to thee,
Love for thy Love, and Hand for Hand I give.
Glo. Ay, but I fear me with a hollow Heart.
See here, my Friends and loving Countrymen,
This Token ferveth for a Flag of Truce,
Betwixt our felves, and all our Followers:

So

So help me God, as I diffemble not.

Win. So help me God, as I intend it not.

K. Henry. Oh, loving Uncle, kind Duke of Glofter,
How joyful am I made by this Contract!
Away, my Mafters, trouble us no more,

But join in Friendship, as your Lords have done.
1 Serv. Content, I'll to the Surgeon's.

2 Serv. And fo will I.

3

Seru. And I will fee what Phyfick the Tavern affords.

[Exeunt. War. Accept this Scrowl, moft gracious Sovereign, Which in the Right of Richard Plantagenet, We do exhibit to your Majesty.

Glo. Well urg'd, my Lord of Warwick; for,fweet Prir.ee, And if your Grace mark every Circumftance, You have great reason to do Richard right, Efpecially for those Occasions

At Eltham Place I told your Majefty.

K. Henry. And thofe Occafions, Uncle, were of force: Therefore, my loving Lords, our pleasure is,

That Richard be reftored to his Blood.

War. Let Richard be restored to his Blood,
So fhall his Father's Wrongs be recompens'd.
Win. As will the reft, fo willeth Winchester.
K. Henry. If Richard will be true, not that alone,
But all the whole Inheritance I give
That doth belong unto the Houfe of York,
From whence you fpring, by lineal Defcent.
Rich. Thy humble Servant vows Obedience,
And humble Service 'till the point of Death

K. Henry. Stoop then, and fet your Knee against my Foot, And in reguerdon of that Duty done,

I gird thee with the valiant Sword of York.

Rife, Richard, like a true Plantagenet,
And rife created Princely Duke of York.

Rich. And fo thrive Richard, as thy Foes may fall,

And as my Duty fprings, fo perifh they

That grudge one Thought against your Majefty.

All Welcome, high Prince, the mighty Duke of York. Som. Perith, bafe Prince, ignoble Duke of York. [Ajide. VOL. IV.

K

Glo.

Glo. Now will it beft avail your Majefty,

To cross the Seas, and to be crown'd in France:
The prefence of a King engenders Love,

Amongst his Subjects and his loyal Friends,
As it difanimates his Enemies.

K. Henry. When Glofter fays the word, King Henry goes, For Friendly Counsel cuts off many Foes.

Glo. Your Ships 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 last break out into a Flame,
As fefter'd Members rot but by degrees,
'Till Bones, and Flesh, and Sinews 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 every fucking Babe,
That Henry born at Monmouth fhould win all,
And Henry born at Windfor fhould lose all:
Which is fo plain, that Exeter doth with,
His days may finish ere that hapless time.

SCENE II.

[Exit.

Enter Joan la Pucelle difguis'd, and four Soldiers with
Sacks upon their Backs.

Pucel. These are the City Gates, the Gates of Roan,
Through which our Policy muft 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 fhall,
And that we find the flothful Watch but weak,
I'll by a Sign give notice to our Friends,
That Charles the Dauphin may encounter them.
Sol. Our Sacks fhall be a means to fack the City,
And we be Lords and Rulers over Roan,

Therefore

Therefore we'll knock.

[Knocks.

Watch. Qui va la?

Pucel. Paijans 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, Bastard, and Alenfon.

Dau. St. Dennis blefs this happy Stratagem,
And once again we'll fleep fecure in Roan.
Baft. Here entred Pucelle and her Practifants:
Now she is there, how will the specifie,
Where is the best and safest Paffage in?

Reig. By thrusting out a Torch from yonder Tower,
Which once difcern'd, fhews that her meaning is,
No way to that (for weakness) which the entred.
Enter Joan la Pucelle on the top, thrusting out a Torch burning,
Pucel. Behold, this is the happy Wedding Torch,
That joineth Roan unto her Countrymen,

But burning fatal to the Talbonites.

Baft. See noble Charles, the Beacon of our Friend, The burning Torch in yonder Turret stands.

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 Sorcerefs,

Hath wrought this hellish Mischief unawares,

That hardly we escap'd the Pride of France

[Exit

Aa Alarm Excurfions, Bedford brought in fick in a Chair. Enter 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 faft,

Before he'll buy again at such a rate.

Twas full of Darnel; do you like the tafte?

K 2

Burg

Burg. Scoff on, vile Fiend, and shameless 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 Treason.
Pucel. What will you do, good gray Beard?

Break a Lance, and run a Tilt at Death

Within a Chair.

Tal. Foul Fiend of France, and Hag of all despight,
Incompafs'd with thy lustful 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 Shame.

Pucel. Are you fo hot, Sir: Yet Pucelle hold thy Peace, If Talbot do but Thunder, Rain will follow.

[They whisper together in Counsel. God fpeed the Parliament; who fhall be the Speaker? 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 Alenfon, and the reft.

Will ус, like Soldiers, come and fight it out?
Alen. Seignior, no.

Tal. Seignior, hang: Bafe Muleteers of France,
Like Peafant Foot-boys do they keep the Walls,
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