Came to the field, and vanquished his foes.
Methinks, I should revive the soldiers' hearts,
Because I ever found them as myself.

Tal. Undaunted spirit in a dying breast!—
Then, be it so:-heavens keep old Bedford safe!—
And now no more ado, brave Burgundy,
But gather we our forces out of hand,
And set upon our boasting enemy.

[Exeunt BURGUNDY, TALBOT, and Forces, leaving BEDFORD, and others.

Alarum: excursions. Enter Sir JOHN FASTOLFE, and a Captain.

Cap. Whither away, sir John Fastolfe, in such haste?

Fast. Whither away? to save myself by flight: We are like to have the overthrow again.

Cap. What! will you fly, and leave lord Talbot? Fast.

Ay, All the Talbots in the world, to save my life. [Exit. Cap. Cowardly knight! ill fortune follow thee! [Exit.

Retreat: excursions. Enter, from the Town, LA PUCELLE, ALENÇON, CHARLES, &c., and exeunt, flying.

Bed. Now, quiet soul, depart when Heaven please,

For I have seen our enemies' overthrow.
What is the trust or strength of foolish man?
They, that of late were daring with their scoffs,
Are glad and fain by flight to save themselves.

Alarum.

[Dies, and is carried off in his chair. Enter TALBOT, BURGUNDY, and others. Tal. Lost, and recover'd in a day again! This is a double honour, Burgundy; Yet heavens have glory for this victory.

Bur. Warlike and martial Talbot, Burgundy Enshrines thee in his heart; and there erects Thy noble deeds, as valour's monument.

Tal. Thanks, gentle duke. But where is Pucelle now?

I think her old familiar is asleep:

Now where's the Bastard's braves, and Charles his gleeks?

What, all a-mort? Rouen hangs her head for grief,
That such a valiant company are fled.
Now will we take some order in the town,
Placing therein some expert officers,
And then depart to Paris to the king;
For there young Henry with his nobles lies.

Bur. What wills lord Talbot, pleaseth Burgundy.
Tal. But yet, before we go, let's not forget
The noble duke of Bedford, late deceas'd,
But see his exequies fulfill'd in Rouen;
A braver soldier never couched lance,

A gentler heart did never sway in court;
But kings, and mightiest potentates must die,
For that's the end of human misery.

SCENE III.-The Same.

City.

[Exeunt. The Plains near the

Enter CHARLES, the Bastard, ALENÇON, LA PU-
CELLE, and Forces.

Puc. Dismay not, princes, at this accident,
Nor grieve that Rouen is so recovered:
Care is no cure, but rather corrosive,
For things that are not to be remedied.

Let frantic Talbot triumph for a while,

And like a peacock sweep along his tail,
We'll pull his plumes, and take away his train,
If Dauphin and the rest will be but rul'd.

Char. We have been guided by thee hitherto,
And of thy cunning had no diffidence:
One sudden foil shall never breed distrust.

Bast. Search out thy wit for secret policies,
And we will make thee famous through the world.
Alen. We'll set thy statue in some holy place,
And have thee reverenc'd like a blessed saint:
Employ thee, then, sweet virgin, for our good.
Puc. Then thus it must be; this doth Joan
devise:

By fair persuasions, mix'd with sugar'd words,
We will entice the duke of Burgundy

To leave the Talbot, and to follow us.

Char. Ay, marry, sweeting, if we could do that, France were no place for Henry's warriors; Nor should that nation boast it so with us, But be extirped from our provinces.

Alen. For ever should they be expuls'd from

France,

And not have title of an earldom here.

Puc. Your honours shall perceive how I will

work,

To bring this matter to the wished end.

[Drums heard afar off.
Hark! by the sound of drum you may perceive
Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward.
An English March. Enter, and pass over, TAL-
BOT, and his Forces.

There goes the Talbot, with his colours spread,
And all the troops of English after him.

A French March. Enter the Duke of BURGUNDY, and Forces.

Now, in the rearward comes the duke, and his : Fortune in favour makes him lag behind. Summon a parley; we will talk with him.

[Trumpets sound a parley. Char. A parley with the duke of Burgundy. Bur. Who craves a parley with the Burgundy? Puc. The princely Charles of France, thy countryman.

Bur. What say'st thou, Charles? for I am marching hence.

Char. Speak, Pucelle, and enchant him with thy words.

Puc. Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of

France,

Stay, let thy humble handmaid speak to thee.
Bur. Speak on; but be not over-tedious.
Puc. Look on thy country, look on fertile France,
And see the cities and the towns defac'd
By wasting ruin of the cruel foe.

As looks the mother on her lowly babe,
When death doth close his tender dying eyes,
See, see, the pining malady of France:
Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds,
Which thou thyself hast given her woful breast.
O! turn thy edged sword another way;

Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that help
One drop of blood, drawn from thy country's bosom,
Should grieve thee more than streams of foreign

gore:

Return thee, therefore, with a flood of tears,
And wash away thy country's stained spots.

Bur. Either she hath bewitch'd me with ner

words,

Or nature makes me suddenly relent.

Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny.

Whom join'st thou with, but with a lordly nation
That will not trust thee but for profit's sake?
When Talbot hath set footing once in France,
And fashion'd thee that instrument of ill,
Who then but English Henry will be lord,
And thou be thrust out, like a fugitive?
Call we to mind, and mark but this for proof,
Was not the duke of Orleans thy foe,
And was he not in England prisoner?
But, when they heard he was thine enemy,
They set him free, without his ransom paid,
In spite of Burgundy, and all his friends.
See, then, thou fight'st against thy countrymen,

And join'st with them will be thy slaughter-men. Come, come, return; return, thou wand'ring lord: Charles, and the rest, will take thee in their arms

Bur. I am vanquished: these haughty words of hers

Have batter'd me like roaring cannon-shot,
And made me almost yield upon my knees.-
Forgive me, country, and sweet countrymen!
And, lords, accept this hearty kind embrace:
My forces and my power of men are yours.-
So, farewell, Talbot; I'll no longer trust thee.
Puc. Done like a Frenchman; turn, and turn
again!

Char. Welcome, brave duke! thy friendship

makes us fresh.

Bast. And doth beget new courage in our breasts.

Alen. Pucelle hath bravely play'd her part in this, And doth deserve a coronet of gold.

Char. Now let us on, my lords, and join our powers,

And seek how we may prejudice the foe. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-Paris. A Room in the Palace. Enter King HENRY, GLOSTER, and other Lords, VERNON, BASSET, &c. To them TALBOT, and some of his Officers.

Tal. My gracious prince, and honourable peers, Hearing of your arrival in this realm,

I have a while given truce unto my wars,
To do my duty to my sovereign:
In sign whereof, this arm-that hath reclaim'd
To your obedience fifty fortresses,
Twelve cities, and seven walled towns of strength,
Beside five hundred prisoners of esteem,
Lets fall his sword before your highness' feet;
And with submissive loyalty of heart,
Ascribes the glory of his conquest got,
First to my God, and next unto your grace.

K. Hen. Is this the lord Talbot, uncle Gloster,
That hath so long been resident in France?
Glo. Yes, if it please your majesty, my liege.

K. Hen. Welcome, brave captain, and victorious lord.

When I was young, (as yet I am not old,)
I do remember how my father said,
A stouter champion never handled sword.
Long since we were resolved of your truth,
Your faithful service, and your toil in war;
Yet never have you tasted our reward,
Or been reguerdon'd with so much as thanks,
Because till now we never saw your face:
Therefore, stand up; and, for these good deserts,
We here create you earl of Shrewsbury,
And in our coronation take your place.

[Flourish. Exeunt King HENRY, GLOSTER,
TALBOT, and Nobles.

Ver. Now, sir, to you, that were so hot at sea, Disgracing of these colours, that I wear In honour of my noble lord of York,

Dar'st thou maintain the former words thou spak'st?

SCENE 1.-The Same. A Room of State. Enter King HENRY, GLOSTER, EXETER, YORK, SUFFOLK, SOMERSET, WINCHESTER, WARWICK, TALBOT, the Governor of Paris, and others. Glo. Lord bishop, set the crown upon his head. Win. God save king Henry, of that name the sixth!

Glo. Now, governor of Paris, take your oath,— [Governor kneels. That you elect no other king but him, Esteem none friends, but such as are his friends, And none your foes, but such as shall pretend Malicious practices against his state: This shall ye do, so help you righteous God! [Exeunt Governor, and his Train.

Enter Sir JOHN FASTOLFE.

Fast. My gracious sovereign, as I rode from Calais,

To haste unto your coronation,

A letter was deliver'd to my hands,
Writ to your grace from the duke of Burgundy.
Tal. Shame to the duke of Burgundy, and thee!
I vow'd, base knight, when I did meet thee next,
To tear the garter from thy craven's leg;

[Plucking it off.
Which I have done, because unworthily
Thou wast installed in that high degree.-
Pardon me, princely Henry, and the rest.
This dastard, at the battle of Patay,
When but in all I was six thousand strong,
And that the French were almost ten to one,
Before we met, or that a stroke was given,
Like to a trusty squire, did run away:
In which assault we lost twelve hundred men;
Myself, and divers gentlemen beside,
Were there surpris'd, and taken prisoners.
Then, judge, great lords, if I have done amiss;
Or whether that such cowards ought to wear
This ornament of knighthood, yea, or no?

Glo. To say the truth, this fact was infamous, And ill beseeming any common man, Much more a knight, a captain, and a leader.

Tal. When first this order was ordain'd, my

lords,

Knights of the garter were of noble birth,

Valiant and virtuous, full of haughty courage, Such as were grown to credit by the wars;

Not fearing death, nor shrinking for distress,
But always resolute in most extremes.
He, then, that is not furnish'd in this sort,
Doth but usurp the sacred name of knight,
Profaning this most honourable order;
And should (if I were worthy to be judge)
Be quite degraded, like a hedge-born swain
That doth presume to boast of gentle blood.

K. Hen. Stain to thy countrymen! thou hear'st thy doom:

Be packing therefore, thou that wast a knight.
Henceforth we banish thee on pain of death.-
[Exit FASTOLFE.

And now, my lord protector, view the letter
Sent from our uncle duke of Burgundy.
Glo. What means his grace, that he hath chang'd
his style?

No more but, plain and bluntly,-" To the king!"
Hath he forgot, he is his sovereign?
Or doth this churlish superscription
Pretend some alteration in good will?

What's here?-[Reads.]—“I have upon especial

cause,

"Mov'd with compassion of my country's wreck, "Together with the pitiful complaints

"Of such as your oppression feeds upon,—
Forsaken your pernicious faction,
"And join'd with Charles, the rightful king of
France."

O, monstrous treachery! Can this be so?
That in alliance, amity, and oaths,

There should be found such false dissembling guile? K. Hen. What! doth my uncle Burgundy revolt?

Glo. He doth, my lord; and is become your foe. K. Hen. Is that the worst this letter doth contain ?

Glo. It is the worst, and all, my lord, he writes. K. Hen. Why then, lord Talbot, there, shall talk with him,

And give him chastisement for this abuse.-
How say you, my lord? are you not content?
Tal. Content, my liege? Yes; but that I am
prevented,

I should have begg'd I might have been employ'd.
K. Hen. Then gather strength, and march unto

him straight.

Let him perceive, how ill we brook his treason; And what offence it is, to flout his friends.

Bas. Crossing the sea from England into France, This fellow, here, with envious carping tongue Upbraided me about the rose I wear; Saying, the sanguine colour of the leaves Did represent my master's blushing cheeks, When stubbornly he did repugn the truth, About a certain question in the law, Argu'd betwixt the duke of York and him; With other vile and ignominious terms: In confutation of which rude reproach, And in defence of my lord's worthiness, I crave the benefit of law of arms.

Ver. And that is my petition, noble lord:
For though he seem, with forged quaint conceit,
To set a gloss upon his bold intent,

Yet know, my lord, I was provok'd by him,
And he first took exceptions at this badge.

Pronouncing, that the paleness of this flower
Bewray'd the faintness of my master's heart.

York. Will not this malice, Somerset, be left? Som. Your private grudge, my lord of York, will out,

Though ne'er so cunningly you smother it.
K. Hen. Good Lord! what madness rules in
brain-sick men ;

When, for so slight and frivolous a cause,
Such factious emulations shall arise!-
Good cousins both, of York and Somerset,
Quiet yourselves, I pray, and be at peace.

York. Let this dissension first be tried by fight, And then your highness shall command a peace. Som. The quarrel toucheth none but us alone; Betwixt ourselves let us decide it, then.

York. There is my pledge; accept it, Somerset.