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 fpread wider than a Dragon's wings :
His fparkling eyes repleat with awful fire
More dazled and drove back his enemies
Than mid-day fun fierce bent against their faces.
What fhould 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 difhonourable victory
We with our ftately prefence glorifie,
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 fubtle-witted French
Conj'rers and forc'rers, that afraid of him
By magick 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 battels of the Lord of hofts he fought;
The church's pray'rs made him fo profperous.
Glou. The church where is it? had not church-men pray'd,
His thread of life had not fo foon decay'd.
None do you like but an effeminate Prince,
Whom like a fchool-boy you may over-awe.
Win. Glo'fter, 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.
Glow. Name not religion, for thou lov'ft the flesh,
And ne'er throughout the year to church thou go'ft,
Except it be to pray against thy foes.
Bed. Ceafe, ceafe thefe jars, and reft your minds in
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 mothers moift eyes babes shall fuck,
Our isle be made a a marifh 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 adverfe planets in the heavens;
A far more glorious ftar thy foul will make
Than Julius Cafar, or bright†
Meff. My 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 rife from death. Glou. Is Paris loft, and Roan yielded up?
I can't guess the occafion of the Hemyftic, and imperfect fenfe in this place; 'tis not impossible it might have been fill'd up with Francis Drake- tho that were a terrible Anachronism (as bad as Hector's quoting Ariftotle in Troil. and Crefs.) yet perhaps, at the time that brave Englishman was in his glory, to an English-hearted audience, and pronounced by fome favourite Actor, the thing might be popular, tho not judicious; and therefore by fome Critick, in favour of the author, afterwards ftruck out. But this is a mere flight conje&ture.
If Henry were recall'd to life again,
Thefe news would caufe him once more yield the ghoft. Exe. How were they loft what treachery was us'd ? Meff. No treachery, but want of men and mony. 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.
One would have lingring wars with little coft;
Another would fly fwift, but wanteth wings:
A third man thinks, without expence at all
By guileful fair words peace may be obtain'd.
Awake, awake, English nobility,
Let not floth dim your honours, new-begot;
Crop'd are the Flower-de-luces in your arms,
Of England's coat one half is cut away.
Exe. Were our tears wanting to this funeral,
Thefe tidings would call forth † her flowing tides.
Bed. Me they concern, Regent I am of France;
Give me my
fteeled coat, I'll fight for France.
Away with thefe difgraceful, wailing robes;
Wounds I will lend the French, instead of eyes,
To weep their intermiffive miferies.
Enter to them another Meffenger.
2 Meff. Lords, view thefe letters, full of bad mif chance.
France is revolted from the English quite,
Except fome petty towns of no import.
The Dauphin Charles is crowned King in Rheims,
The bastard Orleans with him is join'd:
Reignier Duke of Anjou doth take his part,
The Duke of Alanfon flies to his fide.
Exe. The Dauphin crowned King all fly to him? O, whither shall we fly from this reproach?
Glou. We will not fly but to our enemies throats. Bedford, if thou be flack, I'll fight it out.
Bed. Glo'fter, why doubt'ft thou of my forwardness? An army have I muster'd in my thoughts, Wherewith already France is over-run.
3 Meff. My gracious lords, to add to your laments Wherewith you now bedew King Henry's hearfe, I must inform you of a difmal fight
Betwixt the ftout lord Talbot and the French.
Win. What! wherein Talbot overcame? is't fo?
3 Meff. O no; wherein lord Talbot was o'erthrown.
The circumftance I'll tell you more at large.
The tenth of August laft, this dreadful lord
Retiring from the fiege of Orleans,
Having fcarce full fix thoufand in his troop,
By three and twenty thousand of the French
Was round encompaffed and fet upon.
No leifure had he to enrank his men ;
He wanted pikes to fet before his archers;
Instead whereof fharp ftakes pluckt out of hedges
They pitched in the ground confusedly,
To keep the horfemen off from breaking in.
More than three hours the fight continued ;
Where valiant Talbot above human thought
Enacted wonders with his fword and lance.
Hundreds he fent to hell, and none durft ftand him,
Here, there, and every where, enrag'd he flew.
The French exclaim'd, the devil was in arms,
All the whole army ftood agaz'd on him.
His foldiers fpying his undaunted fpirit,
A Talbot Talbot cried out amain,
And rufh'd into the bowels of the battel,
Here had the conqueft fully been feal'd up,
A 52
If Sir John Falstaff had not play'd the coward,
He being in the vaward, (plac'd behind
With purpofe to relieve and follow them)
Cowardly fled, not having ftruck one stroak.
Hence grew the gen'ral wrack and massacre;
Enclosed were they with their enemies.
A bafe Walloon, to win the Dauphin's grace,
Thruft Talbot with a fpear into the back,
Whom all France with her chief affembled strength
Durft not prefume to look once in the face.
Bed. Is Talbot flain then? I will flay my
For living idly here in pomp and eafe;
Whilft fuch a worthy leader wanting aid,
Unto his daftard foe-men is betray'd.
3 Meff. O no, he lives, but is took prifoner, And lord Scales with him, and lord Hungerford; Most of the rest slaughter'd or took likewife.
Bed. His ranfom there is none but I fhall pay.
I'll hale the Dauphin headlong from his throne,
His crown fhall be the ranfom of my friend :
Four of their lords I'll change for one of ours.
Farewel my mafters, to my task will I,
Bonfires in France forthwith I am to make,
To keep our great St. George's feaft withal.
Ten thousand foldiers with me I will take,
Whofe bloody deeds fhall make all Europe quake.
3 Meff. So you had need, for Orleans is belieg'd,
The English army is grown weak and faint :
The Earl of Salisbury craveth fupply,
And hardly keeps his men from mutiny,
Since they fo few watch fuch a multitude.
Exe. Remember lords your oaths to Henry fworn Either to quell the Dauphin utterly,
Or bring him in obedience to your yoak.
Bed. I do remember it, and here take leave,
To go about my preparation.
† See the note on the fifth Scene of Al 3.
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