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King Henry the Sixth.
Duke of Glo'ster, uncle to the king, and Protector.
Duke of Bedford, uncle to the king, and Regent of France.
Thomas Beaufort, Duke of Exeter, great uncle to the king.
Henry Beaufort, great uncle to the king, Bishop of Win-

chester, and afterwards Cardinal. John Beaufort, Earl of Somerset; afterwards, Duke. Richard Plantagenet, eldest son of Richard late Earl of

Cambridge; afterwards Duke of York. Earl of Warwick. Eurl of Salisbury. Earl of Suffolk. Lord Talbot, afterwards Earl of Shrewsbury: John Talbot, his son. Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March. Mortimer's Keeper, and a Lawyer. Sir John Fastolfe. Sir William Lucy. Sir William Glansdale. Sir Thomas Gargrave. Mayor of London. Woodville, Lieutenant of the Tower. Vernon, of the White Rose, or York faction. Basset, of the Red Rose, or Lancaster faction. Charles, Dauphin, and afterwards king of France. Reignier, Duke of Anjou, and titular king of Naples. Duke of Burgundy. Duke of Alencon. Governor of Paris. Bastard of Orleans, Master Gunner of Orleans, and his son. General of the French forces in Bourdeaux. A French Sergeant. A Porter. An old Shepherd, father to Joan la Pucelle, Margaret, daughter to Reignier; afterwards married to

King Henry. Countess of Auvergne. Joan la Pucelle, commonly called, Joan of Arc. Fiends appearing to La Pucelle, Lords, Warders of the Tower,

Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, and several Attendants both on the English and French.

Scene, partly in England, and partly in France.

FIRST PART OF

KING HENRY VI.

ACT I.

SCENE I.

WESTMINSTER ABBEY.

Dead march. Corpse of King Henry the Fifth dis

covered, lying in state; attended on by the Dukes of
Bedford, Glo'ster, and Exeter; the earl of War-
wick; 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.

B

What should I say? his deeds exceed all speech:
He ne'er lift up his hand, but conquered. .
E.re. 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 magick 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 schoolboy, you may over-awe.
Win. Glo'ster, whate'er we like, thou art pro-

tector;
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 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 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 Roüen yielded up? If Henry were recalld to life again, These news would cause him once more yield the

ghost. E.re. 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 ling'ring wars, with little cost;
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 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.

Exe. 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.

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.

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

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