Dead March. The Corpse of King Henry the Fifth is

discorered," lying in state; attended on by the Dukes
of BEDFORD, GLOSTER, and EXETER ; the Earl of
WARWICK, the Bishop of Winchester, Heralds, fc.
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!
King 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
Conjurors and sorcerers, that, afraid of him,
By magic verses have contriv'd 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 sight.
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 church-

men 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 over-awe,

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 goʻst, 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 nourish 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 !
Combat with adverse planets in the heavens !
A far more glorious star thy soul will make,
Than Julius Cæsar, or bright-

Enter a Messenger.
Mess. My 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 IIenry's

corse ? Speak softly, or the loss of those great towns Will make him burst his lead, and rise from death.

66

nou

2 When at their mothers' moist eyes babes shall suck ;] This is the line as it stands in the folio, 1632 : that of 1623 has moisten'd for “moist,” giving a redundant syllable in a line where no dissyllable can be read in the time of a monosyllable. Besides, the full meaning of the poet is obtained by “ moist ;” and here and elsewhere in this play the corrections, if not from authority, have been made generally with great judgment by the editor of the second folio.

3 – a NOURISH of salt tears,] Pope substituted marish, i. e, marsh, for rish,” which is the word in the first and in all the other folios. In fact, no change is required ; and had it been a misprint for marish, the editor of the second folio, who had corrected the preceding line, would not have been likely to pass it over. “ Nourish,” as Malone and Steevens proved by various quotations anterior to the time of Shakespeare, was only another form of the word nourice, or nurse ; and a word of two syllables was required.

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 us’d?

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 will I lend the French instead of eyes, To weep their intermissive miseries.

Enter another Messenger.
2 Mess. Lords, view these letters, full of bad mis-

chance.
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;

a

The duke of Alençon flieth to his side.

Ere. The Dauphin crowned king ! all fly to him! 0! 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.

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. 0, 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 full 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 every where, enrag'd he slewe. The French exclaim’d, the devil was in arms ;

6

– enraged he slew.] So the old copies, to which we adhere ; although, as the Rev. Mr. Barry suggests, it was a very easy misprint for fler. “Slew shows that Talbot was not only “ here, there, and everywhere," but that he made his presence known by the slaughter of the enemy.