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ACT 1. SCENE 1. Westminster Abbey. Dead march. Corple of King Henry the Fifth discovered,
lying in ftate; 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
your crystal tresses in the sky;
Glo. England ne'er had a king, until his time.
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 fun, fierce bent against their faces.
Exp. We mourn in black ; Why mourn we not in
Win. He was a king bless'd of the King of kings.
Glo. The church! where is it? Had not churchmen
Win. Glofter, 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,ceasethesejars, 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. -
Enter a MESSENGER.
Bed. What say'st thou, man, before dead Henry's corse?
Glo. Is Paris lost? is Roüen 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 usd ?
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 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 sloth dim your honours, new-begot :
Exe. Were our tears wanting to this funeral,
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!
Glo. We will not fly, but to our enemies' throats :
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 fo?
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,
grew the general wreck and massacre ;
Bed. Is Talbot sain ? then I will say myself, For living idly here, in pomp and ease,