Imatges de pàgina
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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 flately 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 fubtle-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 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; 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 againft thy foes.

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 at their mother's moift eyes babes fhall fuck;

* Our

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* Our ille 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-

SCENE II.

Enter a Messenger.

Y honourable lords, health to you all;

Meff Mad 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 burst his lead, and rife from death. Glou. Is Paris loft, and Roan 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 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 Marilh of falt tears,] Thus it is (says Mr. Theobald) in both the Impreffions of Mr. Pope; but upon what authority I cannot 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 seems 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.

One

One would have lingring wars with little coft;
Another would fly swift, 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, These tidings would call forth their 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.

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Enter to them another Messenger.

2 Meff. LORDS. view these letters, full of bad

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, doth take his part,
The Duke of Alanfon flies to his fide.

[Exit.

Exe. The Dauphin crowned King? all fly to him?

O, whither fhall 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

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3 Mell. MY gracious lords, to add to your laments.

Wherewith you now bedew King Henry's

hearfe,

I must inform you of a dismal fight

Betwixt the ftout lord Talbot and the French.

Win. What! wherein Talbot overcame? is't so ?L
3 Meff. O, no; wherein lord Talbot was o'erthrown.
The circumftance I'll tell you more at large.
The tenth of August last, 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;
Inftead whereof, fharp ftakes, pluck'd out of hedges,
They pitched in the ground confusedly;
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 ftand him;
Here, there, and every where, enrag'd he flew :
The French exlaim'd, The devil was in arms!"
All the whole army food agaz'd on him.
His foldiers, fpying his undaunted spirit,
A Talbot! Talbot! cried out amain,

And rufh'd into the bowels of the battle,
Here had the Conqueft fully been feal'd up,
If Sir John Fafiolfe had not play'd the coward;
He being in the vaward, (plac'd behind,
With purpose to relieve and follow them)
Cowardly fled, not having ftruck one stroke.
VOL. V.

P

Hence

Hence grew the gen'ral wreck and maffacre;
Enclosed were they with their enemies.
A bafe Walloon, to win the Dauphin's grace,
Thruft Talbot with a spear into the back;
Whom all France with her chief affembled ftrength
Durft not prefume to look once in the face.

Bed. Is Talbot flain then? I will flay myself,
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; Moft of the rest flaughter'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 soldires with me I will take,
Whose bloody deeds fhall make all Europe quake.
3 Meff. So you had need, for Orleans is 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,

Or bring him in obedience to your yoke.

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.

Exe. To Eltam will I, where the

[Exit Gloucefter.

young King is,

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