With envy of each other's happiness,
May cease their hatred; and this dear conjunction
Plant neighbourhood and Christian-like accord
In their sweet bosoms, that never war advance
His bleeding sword 'twixt England and fair France.
All. Amen!

K. Hen. Now, welcome, Kate:-and bear me witness all, That here I kiss her as my sovereign queen.

[Flourish.

Q. Isa. God, the best maker of all marriages,
Combine your hearts in one, your realms in one!
As man and wife, being two, are one in love,
So be there 'twixt your kingdoms such a spousal,
That never may ill office, or fell jealousy,
Which troubles oft the bed of blessed marriage,
Thrust in between the paction of these kingdoms,
To make divorce of their incorporate league;
That English may as French, French Englishmen,
Receive each other!-God speak this, Amen!

All. Amen!

K. Hen. Prepare we for our marriage:-on which day,
My lord of Burgundy, we'll take your oath,
And all the peers', for surety of our leagues.-
Then shall I swear to Kate, and you to me;
And may our oaths well kept and prosperous be!

Enter CHORUS.

Thus far, with rough, and all unable pen,

Our bending author hath pursued the story, In little room confining mighty men,

Mangling by starts the full course of their glory. Small time, but in that small, most greatly lived

This star of England: fortune made his sword; By which the world's best garden † he achieved,

And of it left his son imperial lord.

Henry the sixth, in infant bands crown'd king

Of France and England did this king succeed; Whose state so many had the managing,

That they lost France, and made his England bleed: Which oft our stage hath shown; and, for their sake,

your fair minds let this acceptance take.

* I.e. unequal to the weight of the subject.

[Exeunt.

† France.

SCENE; partly in England, and partly in France.

ACT I.

SCENE I-Westminster Abbey.

Dead march. Corpse of KING HENRY the Fifth discovered, lying in state; attended on by the Dukes of BEDFORD, GLOSTER, and EXETER; the Earl of WARWICK, the Bishop of WINCHESTER, Heralds, &c.

Bed. Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night!
Comets, importing change of times and states,
Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky;

And with them scourge the bad revolting stars,
That have consented unto Henry's death!
Henry the fifth, too famous to live long!
England ne'er lost a king of so much worth.

Glo. England ne'er had a king, until his time.
Virtue he had, deserving to command:
His brandish'd sword did blind men with his beams,
His arms spread wider than a dragon's wings:
His sparkling eyes replete with wrathful fire,
More dazzled and drove back his enemies,
Than mid-day sun, fierce bent against their faces.
What should I say? his deeds exceed all speech:
He ne'er lift up his hand, but conquered.

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 dishonourable victory We with our stately presence glorify, Like captives bound to a triumphant car. What? shall we curse the planets of mishap, That plotted thus our glory's overthrow ? Or shall we think the subtle-witted French Conjurers and sorcerers, that, afraid of him, By magic verses have contrived his end?

Win. He was a king bless'd 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 Hosts he fought:
The church's prayers made him so prosperous.

Glo. The church! where is it? Had not churchmen pray'd,

His thread of life had not so soon decay'd:
None do you like but an effeminate prince,
Whom, like a school-boy, you may overawe.

Win. Gloster, whate'er we like, thou art protector;
And lookest to command the prince, and realm,
Thy wife is proud; she holdeth thee in awe,
More than God, or religious churchmen, may.

Glo. Name not religion, for thou lov'st the flesh!
And ne'er throughout the year to church thou go❜st,
Except it be to pray against thy foes.

Bed. Cease, cease these jars, and rest 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.-

Posterity, await for wretched years,

When at their mothers' moist eyes babes shall suck⚫

Our isle be made a marish of salt tears,

And none but women left to wail the dead.-
Henry the fifth! thy ghost I invocate;
Prosper this realm, keep it from civil broils!

* Marsh.

Combat with adverse planets in the heavens!
A far more glorious star thy soul will make,
Than Julius Cæsar's orb.

Enter a MESSENGER.

Mess. Right honourable lords, health to you all!
Sad tidings bring I to you out of France,
Of loss, of slaughter, and discomfiture:
Guienne, Champaigne, Rheims, Orleans,
Paris, Guysors, Poictiers, are all quite lost.

Bed. What say'st thou, man, before dead Henry's corse ?
Speak softly; or the loss of those great towns
Will make him burst his lead, and rise from death.
Glo. Is Paris lost? is Rouen yielded up?
If Henry were recall'd to life again,

These news would cause him once more yield the ghost.
Exe. How were they lost? what treachery was used?
Mess. No treachery; but want of men and money.
Among the soldiers this is muttered,-
That here you maintain several factions;
And, whilst a field should be despatch'd and fought,
You are disputing of your generals.
One would have lingering wars, with little cost;
Another would fly swift, but wanteth wings;
A third man thinks, without expense at all,
By guileful fair words peace may be obtain❜d.
Awake, awake, English nobility!
Let not sloth dim your honours, new-begot:
Cropp'd are the flower-de-luces in your arms;
Of England's coat one-half is cut away.

Ere. Were our tears wanting to this funeral,
These tidings would call forth her✶ flowing tides.

Bed. Me they concern; regent I am of France :-
Give me my steeled coat, I'll fight for France.-
Away with these disgraceful wailing robes!
Wounds I will lend the French, instead of eyes,
To weep their intermissive miseries.t

Enter another MESSENGER.

2 Mess. Lords, view these letters, full of bad mischance, France is revolted from the English quite; Except some petty towns of no import: The Dauphin Charles is crowned king in Rheims; The bastard of Orleans with him is join'd; Reignier, duke of Anjou, doth take his part; The duke of Alençon flieth to his side.

Ere. The Dauphin crowned king! all fly to him! O, whither shall we fly from this reproach?

Glo. We will not fly, but to our enemies' throats: Bedford, if thou be slack, I'll fight it out.

• England's.

+ Having only short intermissions.

Bed. Gloster, why doubt'st thou of my forwardness? An army have I muster'd in my thoughts, Wherewith already France is over-run.

Enter a third MESSENGER.

3 Mess. My gracious lords, to add to your laments, Wherewith you now bedew king Henry's hearse,I must inform you of a dismal fight, Betwixt the stout lord Talbot and the French.

Win. What! wherein Talbot overcame? is't so? 3 Mess. O, no; wherein lord Talbot was o'erthrown: The circumstance I'll tell you more at large. The tenth of August last, this dreadful lord, Retiring from the siege of Orleans, Having scarce six thousand in his troop, By three and twenty thousand of the French Was round encompassed and set upon: No leisure had he to enrank his men; He wanted pikes to set before his archers; Instead whereof, sharp stakes, 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 sword and lance. Hundreds he sent to hell, and none durst stand him; Here, there, and everywhere, enraged he slew: The French exclaim'd, The devil was in arms; All the whole army stood agazed on him: His soldiers, spying his undaunted spirit, A Talbot! a Talbot! cried out amain, And rush'd into the bowels of the battle. Here had the conquest fully been seal'd up, If Sir John Fastolfe had not play'd the coward, He being in the vaward (placed behind, With purpose to relieve and follow them), Cowardly fled, not having struck one stroke, Hence grew the general wreck and massacre; Enclosed were they with their enemies : A base Walloon, to win the Dauphin's grace, Thrust Talbot with a spear into the back; Whom all France, with their chief assembled strength, Durst not presume to look once in the face.

Bed. Is Talbot slain ? then I will slay myself,

For living idly here, in pomp and ease,
Whilst such a worthy leader, wanting aid,
Unto his dastard foe-man is betray'd.

3 Mess. Ono, he lives; but is took prisoner, And lord Scales with him, and lord Hungerford: Most of the rest slaughter'd, or took, likewise.

Bed. His ransom there is none but I shall pay I'll hale the Dauphin headlong from his throne, His crown shall be the ransom of my friend;