More dazled 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 shall revive:

Upon a wooden coffin we attend;

And death's difhonourable victory
We with our stately 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 verse 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 so 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 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, the holdeth thee in awe,
More than God or religious church-men may.

Glou. Name not religion, 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 these jars, and reft your minds in peace: Let's to the altar: heralds, wait on us;

Instead 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 fhall fuck,
Our ifle be made a marish of falt tears,

And none but women left to 'wail the dead!

Henr

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.

SCENE II. Enter a Meflenger.
Meff. My honourable Lords, health to you all!
Sad tidings bring I to you out of France,
Of lofs, of laughter, 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 Orleans yielded up?

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 whilst a field fhould be dispatch'd and fought,
You are difputing of your Generals.

One would have lingring wars with little cost;
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.

• Englana's.

VOL, V.

Ꮓ

SCENE

SCENE III. Enter to them another Meffenger.

2 Meff. Lords, view these letters, full of bad mifchance. France is revolted from the English quite,

Except fome petty towns of no import.

The Dauphin Charles is crowned King in Rheims,
The baftard Orleans with him is join'd:
Reignier Duke of Anjou takes his part,
The Duke of Alanfon flies to his fide.

[Exit,

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. Glofter, why doubt'ft thou of my forwardness?
An army have I mufter'd in my thoughts,
Wherewith already France is over-run.

SCENE IV. Enter a Third Messenger.
3 Me. 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'er-thrown.
The circumftance I'll tell you more at large.
The tenth of August laft, this dreadful Lord
Retiring from the fiege of Orleans,

Having scarce full fix thousand in his troop,
By three and twenty thousand of the French
Was round encompaffed and fet upon.
No leisure 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 confufedly,
To keep the horsemen 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 stand 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 spirit,
A Talbot! Talbot! cried out amain,
And rush'd into the bowels of the battel.
Here had the conqueft fully been feal'd up,
*If Sir John Falstaff had not play'd the coward;
He being in the rereward (plac'd behind
With purpose to relieve and follow them)
Cowardly fled, not having ftruck one ftroak.
Hence grew the gen'ral wreck and maffacre;
Enclosed were they with their enemies.
A base Walloon, to win the Dauphin's grace,
Thruft Talbot with a spear into the back,
Whom all France with their chief affembled strength
Durft not prefume to look once in the face.

Bed. Is Talbot flain then? I will flay my self,
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 shall 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,
Whose bloody deeds fhall make all Europe quake.
3 Me. So you had need; 'fore Orleans befieg'd
The English Army is grown weak and faint:
The Earl of Salisbury craveth supply,

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,

Gr bring him in obedience to your yoak.

See the note on the fifth Scene of A& 34

Bed. I do remember it, and here take leave,

To go about my preparation.

[Exit Bedford, Glou. I'll to the Tower with all the hafte I can, To view th' artillery and ammunition,

And then I will proclaim young Henry King.

[Exit Gloucefter, Exe. To Eltham will I, where the young King is, Being ordain'd his fpecial governor,

[Exit.

Win. Each hath his place and function to attend:

And for his fafety there I'll beft devife.

I am left out; for me nothing remains:
But long I will not be thus out of office:

The King from Eltham I intend to fend,

And fit at chiefeft stern of publick weal,

[Exit.

SCENE V. Before Orleans in France. Enter Dauphin, Alanfon, and Reignier, marching with a drum and Soldiers.

Dau. Mars his true moving, ev'n as in the heav'ns
So in the earth to this day is not known.
Late did he fhine upon the English fide:
Now we are victors, upon us he fmiles.
What towns of any moment but we have?
At pleasure here we lye near Orleans:

Tho' ftill the famifh'd English like pale ghosts
Faintly befiege us one hour in a month.

Alan. They want their porridge, and their fat Bukbeeves;

Either they must be dieted like mules

And have their provender ty'd to their mouths,
Or piteous they will look like drowned mice.
Talbot is taken, whom we wont to fear:
Remaineth none but mad-brain'd Salisbury,
And he may well in fretting fpend his gall,
Nor men nor mony hath he to make war.

Dau. Sound, found alarum: we will rufh on them:
Now for the honour of the forlorn French
Him I forgive my death that killeth me,
When he fees me go back one foot to fly.

[Exeuss.

[Here alarum, they are beaten back by the English, with great loss.