Mort. That cause (faire Nephew) that imprison'd me, And hath detayn'd me all my flowring Youth, Within a loathsome Dungeon, there to pyne, Was cursed Instrument of his decease

Rich. Discouer more at large what cause that was, For I am ignorant, and cannot guesse

Mort. I will, if that my fading breath permit, And Death approach not, ere my Tale be done. Henry the Fourth, Grandfather to this King, Depos'd his Nephew Richard, Edwards Sonne, The first begotten, and the lawfull Heire Of Edward King, the Third of that Descent. During whose Reigne, the Percies of the North, Finding his Vsurpation most vniust, Endeuour'd my aduancement to the Throne. The reason mou'd these Warlike Lords to this, Was, for that (young Richard thus remou'd, Leauing no Heire begotten of his Body) I was the next by Birth and Parentage: For by my Mother, I deriued am From Lionel Duke of Clarence, third Sonne To King Edward the Third; whereas hee, From Iohn of Gaunt doth bring his Pedigree, Being but fourth of that Heroick Lyne. But marke: as in this haughtie great attempt, They laboured, to plant the rightfull Heire, I lost my Libertie, and they their Liues. Long after this, when Henry the Fift (Succeeding his Father Bullingbrooke) did reigne; Thy Father, Earle of Cambridge, then deriu'd From famous Edmund Langley, Duke of Yorke, Marrying my Sister, that thy Mother was; Againe, in pitty of my hard distresse, Leuied an Army, weening to redeeme, And haue install'd me in the Diademe: But as the rest, so fell that Noble Earle, And was beheaded. Thus the Mortimers, In whom the Title rested, were supprest

Rich. Of which, my Lord, your Honor is the last

Mort. True; and thou seest, that I no Issue haue, And that my fainting words doe warrant death: Thou art my Heire; the rest, I wish thee gather: But yet be wary in thy studious care

Rich. Thy graue admonishments preuayle with me: But yet me thinkes, my Fathers execution Was nothing lesse then bloody Tyranny

Mort. With silence, Nephew, be thou pollitick, Strong fixed is the House of Lancaster, And like a Mountaine, not to be remou'd. But now thy Vnckle is remouing hence, As Princes doe their Courts, when they are cloy'd With long continuance in a setled place

Rich. O Vnckle, would some part of my young yeeres Might but redeeme the passage of your Age

Mort. Thou do'st then wrong me, as y slaughterer doth, Which giueth many Wounds, when one will kill. Mourne not, except thou sorrow for my good, Onely giue order for my Funerall. And so farewell, and faire be all thy hopes, And prosperous be thy Life in Peace and Warre.

Dyes.

Rich. And Peace, no Warre, befall thy parting Soule. In Prison hast thou spent a Pilgrimage, And like a Hermite ouer-past thy dayes. Well, I will locke his Councell in my Brest, And what I doe imagine, let that rest. Keepers conuey him hence, and I my selfe Will see his Buryall better then his Life. Enter.

Here dyes the duskie Torch of Mortimer, Choakt with Ambition of the meaner sort. And for those Wrongs, those bitter Iniuries, Which Somerset hath offer'd to my House, I doubt not, but with Honor to redresse. And therefore haste I to the Parliament, Eyther to be restored to my Blood, Or make my will th' aduantage of my good. Enter.



Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Flourish. Enter King, Exeter, Gloster, Winchester, Warwick. Somerset, Suffolk, Richard Plantagenet. Gloster offers to put vp a Bill: Winchester snatches it, teares it.

Winch. Com'st thou with deepe premeditated Lines? With written Pamphlets, studiously deuis'd? Humfrey of Gloster, if thou canst accuse, Or ought intend'st to lay vnto my charge, Doe it without inuention, suddenly, As I with sudden, and extemporall speech, Purpose to answer what thou canst obiect

Glo. Presumptuous Priest, this place co[m]mands my patie[n]ce, Or thou should'st finde thou hast dis-honor'd me. Thinke not, although in Writing I preferr'd The manner of thy vile outragious Crymes, That therefore I haue forg'd, or am not able Verbatim to rehearse the Methode of my Penne. No Prelate, such is thy audacious wickednesse, Thy lewd, pestiferous, and dissentious prancks, As very Infants prattle of thy pride. Thou art a most pernitious Vsurer, Froward by nature, Enemie to Peace, Lasciuious, wanton, more then well beseemes A man of thy Profession, and Degree. And for thy Trecherie, what's more manifest? In that thou layd'st a Trap to take my Life, As well at London Bridge, as at the Tower. Beside, I feare me, if thy thoughts were sifted, The King, thy Soueraigne, is not quite exempt From enuious mallice of thy swelling heart

Winch. Gloster, I doe defie thee. Lords vouchsafe To giue me hearing what I shall reply. If I were couetous, ambitious, or peruerse, As he will haue me: how am I so poore? Or how haps it, I seeke not to aduance Or rayse my selfe? but keepe my wonted Calling. And for Dissention, who preferreth Peace More then I doe? except I be prouok'd. No, my good Lords, it is not that offends, It is not that, that hath incens'd the Duke: It is because no one should sway but hee, No one, but hee, should be about the King; And that engenders Thunder in his breast, And makes him rore these Accusations forth. But he shall know I am as good

Glost. As good? Thou Bastard of my Grandfather

Winch. I, Lordly Sir: for what are you, I pray, But one imperious in anothers Throne? Glost. Am I not Protector, sawcie Priest? Winch. And am not I a Prelate of the Church? Glost. Yes, as an Out-law in a Castle keepes, And vseth it, to patronage his Theft

Winch. Vnreuerent Glocester

Glost. Thou art reuerent, Touching thy Spirituall Function, not thy Life

Winch. Rome shall remedie this

Warw. Roame thither then. My Lord, it were your dutie to forbeare

Som. I, see the Bishop be not ouer-borne: Me thinkes my Lord should be Religious, And know the Office that belongs to such

Warw. Me thinkes his Lordship should be humbler, It fitteth not a Prelate so to plead

Som. Yes, when his holy State is toucht so neere

Warw. State holy, or vnhallow'd, what of that? Is not his Grace Protector to the King? Rich. Plantagenet I see must hold his tongue, Least it be said, Speake Sirrha when you should: Must your bold Verdict enter talke with Lords? Else would I haue a fling at Winchester

King. Vnckles of Gloster, and of Winchester, The speciall Watch-men of our English Weale, I would preuayle, if Prayers might preuayle, To ioyne your hearts in loue and amitie. Oh, what a Scandall is it to our Crowne, That two such Noble Peeres as ye should iarre? Beleeue me, Lords, my tender yeeres can tell, Ciuill dissention is a viperous Worme, That gnawes the Bowels of the Common-wealth.

A noyse within, Downe with the Tawny-Coats.

King. What tumult's this? Warw. An Vprore, I dare warrant, Begun through malice of the Bishops men.

A noyse againe, Stones, Stones.

Enter Maior.

Maior. Oh my good Lords, and vertuous Henry, Pitty the Citie of London, pitty vs: The Bishop, and the Duke of Glosters men, Forbidden late to carry any Weapon, Haue fill'd their Pockets full of peeble stones; And banding themselues in contrary parts, Doe pelt so fast at one anothers Pate, That many haue their giddy braynes knockt out: Our Windowes are broke downe in euery Street, And we, for feare, compell'd to shut our Shops. Enter in skirmish with bloody Pates.

King. We charge you, on allegeance to our selfe, To hold your slaughtring hands, and keepe the Peace: Pray' Vnckle Gloster mittigate this strife

1.Seruing. Nay, if we be forbidden Stones, wee'le fall to it with our Teeth

2.Seruing. Doe what ye dare, we are as resolute.

Skirmish againe.

Glost. You of my household, leaue this peeuish broyle, And set this vnaccustom'd fight aside

3.Seru. My Lord, we know your Grace to be a man Iust, and vpright; and for your Royall Birth, Inferior to none, but to his Maiestie: And ere that we will suffer such a Prince, So kinde a Father of the Common-weale, To be disgraced by an Inke-horne Mate, Wee and our Wiues and Children all will fight, And haue our bodyes slaughtred by thy foes

1.Seru. I, and the very parings of our Nayles Shall pitch a Field when we are dead.

Begin againe.

Glost. Stay, stay, I say: And if you loue me, as you say you doe, Let me perswade you to forbeare a while

King. Oh, how this discord doth afflict my Soule. Can you, my Lord of Winchester, behold My sighes and teares, and will not once relent? Who should be pittifull, if you be not? Or who should study to preferre a Peace, If holy Church-men take delight in broyles? Warw. Yeeld my Lord Protector, yeeld Winchester, Except you meane with obstinate repulse To slay your Soueraigne, and destroy the Realme. You see what Mischiefe, and what Murther too, Hath beene enacted through your enmitie: Then be at peace, except ye thirst for blood

Winch. He shall submit, or I will neuer yeeld

Glost. Compassion on the King commands me stoupe, Or I would see his heart out, ere the Priest Should euer get that priuiledge of me

Warw. Behold my Lord of Winchester, the Duke Hath banisht moodie discontented fury, As by his smoothed Browes it doth appeare: Why looke you still so sterne, and tragicall? Glost. Here Winchester, I offer thee my Hand

King. Fie Vnckle Beauford, I haue heard you preach, That Mallice was a great and grieuous sinne: And will not you maintaine the thing you teach? But proue a chiefe offendor in the same

Warw. Sweet King: the Bishop hath a kindly gyrd: For shame my Lord of Winchester relent; What, shall a Child instruct you what to doe? Winch. Well, Duke of Gloster, I will yeeld to thee Loue for thy Loue, and Hand for Hand I giue

Glost. I, but I feare me with a hollow Heart. See here my Friends and louing Countreymen, This token serueth for a Flagge of Truce, Betwixt our selues, and all our followers: So helpe me God, as I dissemble not

Winch. So helpe me God, as I intend it not

King. Oh louing Vnckle, kinde Duke of Gloster, How ioyfull am I made by this Contract. Away my Masters, trouble vs no more, But ioyne in friendship, as your Lords haue done

1.Seru. Content, Ile to the Surgeons

2.Seru. And so will I

3.Seru. And I will see what Physick the Tauerne affords.

Exeunt.

Warw. Accept this Scrowle, most gracious Soueraigne, Which in the Right of Richard Plantagenet, We doe exhibite to your Maiestie

Glo. Well vrg'd, my Lord of Warwick: for sweet Prince, And if your Grace marke euery circumstance, You haue great reason to doe Richard right, Especially for those occasions At Eltam Place I told your Maiestie

King. And those occasions, Vnckle, were of force: Therefore my louing Lords, our pleasure is, That Richard be restored to his Blood

Warw. Let Richard be restored to his Blood, So shall his Fathers wrongs be recompenc't

Winch. As will the rest, so willeth Winchester

King. If Richard will be true, not that all alone, But all the whole Inheritance I giue, That doth belong vnto the House of Yorke, From whence you spring, by Lineall Descent

Rich. Thy humble seruant vowes obedience, And humble seruice, till the point of death

King. Stoope then, and set your Knee against my Foot, And in reguerdon of that dutie done, I gyrt thee with the valiant Sword of Yorke: Rise Richard, like a true Plantagenet, And rise created Princely Duke of Yorke

Rich. And so thriue Richard, as thy foes may fall, And as my dutie springs, so perish they, That grudge one thought against your Maiesty

All. Welcome high Prince, the mighty Duke of Yorke

Som. Perish base Prince, ignoble Duke of Yorke

Glost. Now will it best auaile your Maiestie, To crosse the Seas, and to be Crown'd in France: The presence of a King engenders loue Amongst his Subiects, and his loyall Friends, As it dis-animates his Enemies

King. When Gloster sayes the word, King Henry goes, For friendly counsaile cuts off many Foes

Glost. Your Ships alreadie are in readinesse.

Senet. Flourish. Exeunt.

Manet Exeter.

Exet. I, we may march in England, or in France, Not seeing what is likely to ensue: This late dissention growne betwixt the Peeres, Burnes vnder fained ashes of forg'd loue, And will at last breake out into a flame, As festred members rot but by degree, Till bones and flesh and sinewes fall away, So will this base and enuious discord breed. And now I feare that fatall Prophecie, Which in the time of Henry, nam'd the Fift, Was in the mouth of euery sucking Babe, That Henry borne at Monmouth should winne all, And Henry borne at Windsor, loose all: Which is so plaine, that Exeter doth wish, His dayes may finish, ere that haplesse time. Enter.

Scoena Secunda.

Enter Pucell disguis'd, with foure Souldiors with Sacks vpon their backs.

Pucell. These are the Citie Gates, the Gates of Roan, Through which our Pollicy must make a breach. Take heed, be wary how you place your words, Talke like the vulgar sort of Market men, That come to gather Money for their Corne. If we haue entrance, as I hope we shall, And that we finde the slouthfull Watch but weake, Ile by a signe giue notice to our friends, That Charles the Dolphin may encounter them

Souldier. Our Sacks shall be a meane to sack the City, And we be Lords and Rulers ouer Roan, Therefore wee'le knock.

Knock.

Watch. Che la

Pucell. Peasauns la pouure gens de Fraunce, Poore Market folkes that come to sell their Corne

Watch. Enter, goe in, the Market Bell is rung

Pucell. Now Roan, Ile shake thy Bulwarkes to the ground.

Exeunt.

Enter Charles, Bastard, Alanson.

Charles. Saint Dennis blesse this happy Stratageme, And once againe wee'le sleepe secure in Roan

Bastard. Here entred Pucell, and her Practisants: Now she is there, how will she specifie? Here is the best and safest passage in

Reig. By thrusting out a Torch from yonder Tower, Which once discern'd, shewes that her meaning is, No way to that (for weaknesse) which she entred. Enter Pucell on the top, thrusting out a Torch burning.

Pucell. Behold, this is the happy Wedding Torch, That ioyneth Roan vnto her Countreymen, But burning fatall to the Talbonites

Bastard. See Noble Charles the Beacon of our friend, The burning Torch in yonder Turret stands

Charles. Now shine it like a Commet of Reuenge, A Prophet to the fall of all our Foes

Reig. Deferre no time, delayes haue dangerous ends, Enter and cry, the Dolphin, presently, And then doe execution on the Watch.

Alarum.

An Alarum. Talbot in an Excursion.

Talb. France, thou shalt rue this Treason with thy teares, If Talbot but suruiue thy Trecherie. Pucell that Witch, that damned Sorceresse, Hath wrought this Hellish Mischiefe vnawares, That hardly we escap't the Pride of France. Enter.

An Alarum: Excursions. Bedford brought in sicke in a Chayre.

Enter Talbot and Burgonie without: within, Pucell, Charles, Bastard, and Reigneir on the Walls.

Pucell. God morrow Gallants, want ye Corn for Bread? I thinke the Duke of Burgonie will fast, Before hee'le buy againe at such a rate. 'Twas full of Darnell: doe you like the taste? Burg. Scoffe on vile Fiend, and shamelesse Curtizan, I trust ere long to choake thee with thine owne, And make thee curse the Haruest of that Corne

Charles. Your Grace may starue (perhaps) before that time

Bedf. Oh let no words, but deedes, reuenge this Treason

Pucell. What will you doe, good gray-beard? Breake a Launce, and runne a-Tilt at Death, Within a Chayre

Talb. Foule Fiend of France, and Hag of all despight, Incompass'd with thy lustfull Paramours, Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant Age, And twit with Cowardise a man halfe dead? Damsell, Ile haue a bowt with you againe, Or else let Talbot perish with this shame

Pucell. Are ye so hot, Sir: yet Pucell hold thy peace, If Talbot doe but Thunder, Raine will follow.

They whisper together in counsell.

God speed the Parliament: who shall be the Speaker? Talb. Dare yee come forth, and meet vs in the field? Pucell. Belike your Lordship takes vs then for fooles, To try if that our owne be ours, or no

Talb. I speake not to that rayling Hecate, But vnto thee Alanson, and the rest. Will ye, like Souldiors, come and fight it out? Alans. Seignior no

Talb. Seignior hang: base Muleters of France, Like Pesant foot-Boyes doe they keepe the Walls, And dare not take vp Armes, like Gentlemen

Pucell. Away Captaines, let's get vs from the Walls, For Talbot meanes no goodnesse by his Lookes. God b'uy my Lord, we came but to tell you That wee are here.

Exeunt. from the Walls.

Talb. And there will we be too, ere it be long, Or else reproach be Talbots greatest fame. Vow Burgonie, by honor of thy House, Prickt on by publike Wrongs sustain'd in France, Either to get the Towne againe, or dye. And I, as sure as English Henry liues, And as his Father here was Conqueror; As sure as in this late betrayed Towne, Great Cordelions Heart was buryed; So sure I sweare, to get the Towne, or dye

Burg. My Vowes are equall partners with thy Vowes

Talb. But ere we goe, regard this dying Prince, The valiant Duke of Bedford: Come my Lord, We will bestow you in some better place, Fitter for sicknesse, and for crasie age

Bedf. Lord Talbot, doe not so dishonour me: Here will I sit, before the Walls of Roan, And will be partner of your weale or woe

Burg. Couragious Bedford, let vs now perswade you

Bedf. Not to be gone from hence: for once I read, That stout Pendragon, in his Litter sick, Came to the field, and vanquished his foes. Me thinkes I should reuiue the Souldiors hearts, Because I euer found them as my selfe

Talb. Vndaunted spirit in a dying breast, Then be it so: Heauens keepe old Bedford safe. And now no more adoe, braue Burgonie, But gather we our Forces out of hand, And set vpon our boasting Enemie. Enter.

An Alarum: Excursions. Enter Sir Iohn Falstaffe, and a Captaine.

Capt. Whither away Sir Iohn Falstaffe, in such haste? Falst. Whither away? to saue my selfe by flight, We are like to haue the ouerthrow againe

Capt. What? will you flye, and leaue Lord Talbot? Falst. I, all the Talbots in the World, to saue my life. Enter.

Capt. Cowardly Knight, ill fortune follow thee. Enter.

Retreat. Excursions. Pucell, Alanson, and Charles flye.

Bedf. Now quiet Soule, depart when Heauen please, For I haue seene our Enemies ouerthrow. What is the trust or strength of foolish man? They that of late were daring with their scoffes, Are glad and faine by flight to saue themselues.

Bedford dyes, and is carryed in by two in his Chaire.

An Alarum. Enter Talbot, Burgonie, and the rest.

Talb. Lost, and recouered in a day againe, This is a double Honor, Burgonie: Yet Heauens haue glory for this Victorie

Burg. Warlike and Martiall Talbot, Burgonie Inshrines thee in his heart, and there erects Thy noble Deeds, as Valors Monuments

Talb. Thanks gentle Duke: but where is Pucel now? I thinke her old Familiar is asleepe. Now where's the Bastards braues, and Charles his glikes? What all amort? Roan hangs her head for griefe, That such a valiant Company are fled. Now will we take some order in the Towne, Placing therein some expert Officers, And then depart to Paris, to the King, For there young Henry with his Nobles lye

Burg. What wills Lord Talbot, pleaseth Burgonie

Talb. But yet before we goe, let's not forget The Noble Duke of Bedford, late deceas'd, But see his Exequies fulfill'd in Roan. A brauer Souldier neuer couched Launce, A gentler Heart did neuer sway in Court. But Kings and mightiest Potentates must die, For that's the end of humane miserie.

Exeunt.

Scaena Tertia.

Enter Charles, Bastard, Alanson, Pucell.

Pucell. Dismay not (Princes) at this accident, Nor grieue that Roan is so recouered: Care is no cure, but rather corrosiue, For things that are not to be remedy'd. Let frantike Talbot triumph for a while, And like a Peacock sweepe along his tayle, Wee'le pull his Plumes, and take away his Trayne, If Dolphin and the rest will be but rul'd

Charles. We haue been guided by thee hitherto, And of thy Cunning had no diffidence, One sudden Foyle shall neuer breed distrust

Bastard. Search out thy wit for secret pollicies, And we will make thee famous through the World

Alans. Wee'le set thy Statue in some holy place, And haue thee reuerenc't like a blessed Saint. Employ thee then, sweet Virgin, for our good

Pucell. Then thus it must be, this doth Ioane deuise: By faire perswasions, mixt with sugred words, We will entice the Duke of Burgonie To leaue the Talbot, and to follow vs

Charles. I marry Sweeting, if we could doe that, France were no place for Henryes Warriors, Nor should that Nation boast it so with vs, But be extirped from our Prouinces

Alans. For euer should they be expuls'd from France, And not haue Title of an Earledome here

Pucell. Your Honors shall perceiue how I will worke, To bring this matter to the wished end.

Drumme sounds a farre off.

Hearke, by the sound of Drumme you may perceiue Their Powers are marching vnto Paris-ward.

Here sound an English March.

There goes the Talbot with his Colours spred, And all the Troupes of English after him.

French March.

Now in the Rereward comes the Duke and his: Fortune in fauor makes him lagge behinde. Summon a Parley, we will talke with him.

Trumpets sound a Parley.

Charles. A Parley with the Duke of Burgonie

Burg. Who craues a Parley with the Burgonie? Pucell. The Princely Charles of France, thy Countreyman

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

Charles. Speake Pucell, and enchaunt him with thy words

Pucell. Braue Burgonie, vndoubted hope of France, Stay, let thy humble Hand-maid speake to thee

Burg. Speake on, but be not ouer-tedious

Pucell. Looke on thy Country, look on fertile France, And see the Cities and the Townes defac't, By wasting Ruine of the cruell Foe, As lookes the Mother on her lowly Babe, When Death doth close his tender-dying Eyes. See, see the pining Maladie of France: Behold the Wounds, the most vnnaturall Wounds, Which thou thy selfe hast giuen her wofull Brest. Oh turne thy edged Sword another way, Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that helpe: One drop of Blood drawne from thy Countries Bosome, Should grieue thee more then streames of forraine gore. Returne thee therefore with a floud of Teares, And wash away thy Countries stayned Spots

Burg. Either she hath bewitcht me with her words, Or Nature makes me suddenly relent

Pucell. Besides, all French and France exclaimes on thee, Doubting thy Birth and lawfull Progenie. Who ioyn'st thou with, but with a Lordly Nation, That will not trust thee, but for profits 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 Fugitiue? Call we to minde, and marke but this for proofe: Was not the Duke of Orleance thy Foe? And was he not in England Prisoner? But when they heard he was thine Enemie, They set him free, without his Ransome pay'd, In spight of Burgonie and all his friends. See then, thou fight'st against thy Countreymen, And ioyn'st with them will be thy slaughter-men. Come, come, returne; returne thou wandering Lord, Charles and the rest will take thee in their armes

Burg. I am vanquished: These haughtie wordes of hers Haue batt'red me like roaring Cannon-shot, And made me almost yeeld vpon my knees. Forgiue me Countrey, and sweet Countreymen: And Lords accept this heartie kind embrace. My Forces and my Power of Men are yours. So farwell Talbot, Ile no longer trust thee

Pucell. Done like a Frenchman: turne and turne againe

Charles. Welcome braue Duke, thy friendship makes vs fresh

Bastard. And doth beget new Courage in our Breasts

Alans. Pucell hath brauely play'd her part in this, And doth deserue a Coronet of Gold

Charles. Now let vs on, my Lords, And ioyne our Powers, And seeke how we may preiudice the Foe.

Exeunt.

Scoena Quarta.

Enter the King, Gloucester, Winchester, Yorke, Suffolke, Somerset, Warwicke, Exeter: To them, with his Souldiors, Talbot.

Talb. My gracious Prince, and honorable Peeres, Hearing of your arriuall in this Realme, I haue a while giuen Truce vnto my Warres, To doe my dutie to my Soueraigne. In signe whereof, this Arme, that hath reclaym'd To your obedience, fiftie Fortresses, Twelue Cities, and seuen walled Townes of strength, Beside fiue hundred Prisoners of esteeme; Lets fall his Sword before your Highnesse feet: And with submissiue loyaltie of heart Ascribes the Glory of his Conquest got, First to my God, and next vnto your Grace

King. Is this the Lord Talbot, Vnckle Gloucester, That hath so long beene resident in France? Glost. Yes, if it please your Maiestie, my Liege

King. Welcome braue Captaine, and victorious Lord. When I was young (as yet I am not old) I doe remember how my Father said, A stouter Champion neuer handled Sword. Long since we were resolued of your truth, Your faithfull seruice, and your toyle in Warre: Yet neuer haue you tasted our Reward, Or beene reguerdon'd with so much as Thanks, Because till now, we neuer saw your face. Therefore stand vp, and for these good deserts, We here create you Earle of Shrewsbury, And in our Coronation take your place.

Senet. Flourish. Exeunt.

Manet Vernon and Basset.

Vern. Now Sir, to you that were so hot at Sea, Disgracing of these Colours that I weare, In honor of my Noble Lord of Yorke Dar'st thou maintaine the former words thou spak'st? Bass. Yes Sir, as well as you dare patronage The enuious barking of your sawcie Tongue, Against my Lord the Duke of Somerset

Vern. Sirrha, thy Lord I honour as he is

Bass. Why, what is he? as good a man as Yorke

Vern. Hearke ye: not so: in witnesse take ye that.

Strikes him.

Bass. Villaine, thou knowest The Law of Armes is such, That who so drawes a Sword, 'tis present death, Or else this Blow should broach thy dearest Bloud. But Ile vnto his Maiestie, and craue, I may haue libertie to venge this Wrong, When thou shalt see, Ile meet thee to thy cost

Vern. Well miscreant, Ile be there as soone as you, And after meete you, sooner then you would.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter King, Glocester, Winchester, Yorke, Suffolke, Somerset, Warwicke, Talbot, and Gouernor Exeter.

Glo. Lord Bishop set the Crowne vpon his head

Win. God saue King Henry of that name the sixt

Glo. Now Gouernour of Paris take your oath, That you elect no other King but him; Esteeme none Friends, but such as are his Friends, And none your Foes, but such as shall pretend Malicious practises against his State: This shall ye do, so helpe you righteous God. Enter Falstaffe.

Fal. My gracious Soueraigne, as I rode from Calice, To haste vnto your Coronation: A Letter was deliuer'd to my hands, Writ to your Grace, from th' Duke of Burgundy

Tal. Shame to the Duke of Burgundy, and thee: I vow'd (base Knight) when I did meete the next, To teare the Garter from thy Crauens legge, Which I haue done, because (vnworthily) Thou was't installed in that High Degree. Pardon me Princely Henry, and the rest: This Dastard, at the battell of Poictiers, When (but in all) I was sixe thousand strong, And that the French were almost ten to one, Before we met, or that a stroke was giuen, Like to a trustie Squire, did run away. In which assault, we lost twelue hundred men. My selfe, and diuers Gentlemen beside, Were there surpriz'd, and taken prisoners. Then iudge (great Lords) if I haue done amisse: Or whether that such Cowards ought to weare 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 Captaine, and a Leader

Tal. When first this Order was ordain'd my Lords, Knights of the Garter were of Noble birth; Valiant, and Vertuous, full of haughtie Courage, Such as were growne to credit by the warres: Not fearing Death, nor shrinking for Distresse, But alwayes resolute, in most extreames. He then, that is not furnish'd in this sort, Doth but vsurpe the Sacred name of Knight, Prophaning this most Honourable Order, And should (if I were worthy to be Iudge) Be quite degraded, like a Hedge-borne Swaine, That doth presume to boast of Gentle blood

K. Staine to thy Countrymen, thou hear'st thy doom: Be packing therefore, thou that was't a knight: Henceforth we banish thee on paine of death. And now Lord Protector, view the Letter Sent from our Vnckle Duke of Burgundy

Glo. What meanes his Grace, that he hath chaung'd his Stile? No more but plaine and bluntly? (To the King.) Hath he forgot he is his Soueraigne? Or doth this churlish Superscription Pretend some alteration in good will? What's heere? I haue vpon especiall cause, Mou'd with compassion of my Countries wracke, Together with the pittifull complaints Of such as your oppression feedes vpon, Forsaken your pernitious Faction, And ioyn'd with Charles, the rightfull king of France. O monstrous Treachery: Can this be so? That in alliance, amity, and oathes, There should be found such false dissembling guile? King. What? doth my Vnckle Burgundy reuolt? Glo. He doth my Lord, and is become your foe

King. Is that the worst this Letter doth containe? Glo. It is the worst, and all (my Lord) he writes

King. Why then Lord Talbot there shal talk with him, And giue him chasticement for this abuse. How say you (my Lord) are you not content? Tal. Content, my Liege? Yes: But y I am preuented, I should haue begg'd I might haue bene employd

King. Then gather strength, and march vnto him straight: Let him perceiue how ill we brooke his Treason, And what offence it is to flout his Friends

Tal. I go my Lord, in heart desiring still You may behold confusion of your foes. Enter Vernon and Bassit.

Ver. Grant me the Combate, gracious Soueraigne

Bas. And me (my Lord) grant me the Combate too

Yorke. This is my Seruant, heare him Noble Prince

Som. And this is mine (sweet Henry) fauour him

King. Be patient Lords, and giue them leaue to speak. Say Gentlemen, what makes you thus exclaime, And wherefore craue you Combate? Or with whom? Ver. With him (my Lord) for he hath done me wrong

Bas. And I with him, for he hath done me wrong

King. What is that wrong, wherof you both complain First let me know, and then Ile answer you

Bas. Crossing the Sea, from England into France, This Fellow heere with enuious carping tongue, Vpbraided me about the Rose I weare, Saying, the sanguine colour of the Leaues Did represent my Masters blushing cheekes: When stubbornly he did repugne the truth, About a certaine question in the Law, Argu'd betwixt the Duke of Yorke, and him: With other vile and ignominious tearmes. In confutation of which rude reproach, And in defence of my Lords worthinesse, I craue the benefit of Law of Armes

Ver. And that is my petition (Noble Lord:) For though he seeme with forged queint conceite To set a glosse vpon his bold intent, Yet know (my Lord) I was prouok'd by him, And he first tooke exceptions at this badge, Pronouncing that the palenesse of this Flower, Bewray'd the faintnesse of my Masters heart

Yorke. Will not this malice Somerset be left? Som. Your priuate grudge my Lord of York, wil out, Though ne're so cunningly you smother it

King. Good Lord, what madnesse rules in brainesicke men, When for so slight and friuolous a cause, Such factious aemulations shall arise? Good Cosins both of Yorke and Somerset, Quiet your selues (I pray) and be at peace

Yorke. Let this dissention first be tried by fight, And then your Highnesse shall command a Peace

Som. The quarrell toucheth none but vs alone, Betwixt our selues let vs decide it then

Yorke. There is my pledge, accept it Somerset

Ver. Nay, let it rest where it began at first

Bass. Confirme it so, mine honourable Lord

Glo. Confirme it so? Confounded be your strife, And perish ye with your audacious prate, Presumptuous vassals, are you not asham'd With this immodest clamorous outrage, To trouble and disturbe the King, and Vs? And you my Lords, me thinkes you do not well To beare with their peruerse Obiections: Much lesse to take occasion from their mouthes, To raise a mutiny betwixt your selues. Let me perswade you take a better course

Exet. It greeues his Highnesse, Good my Lords, be Friends

King. Come hither you that would be Combatants: Henceforth I charge you, as you loue our fauour, Quite to forget this Quarrell, and the cause. And you my Lords: Remember where we are, In France, amongst a fickle wauering Nation: If they perceyue dissention in our lookes, And that within our selues we disagree; How will their grudging stomackes be prouok'd To wilfull Disobedience, and Rebell? Beside, What infamy will there arise, When Forraigne Princes shall be certified, That for a toy, a thing of no regard, King Henries Peeres, and cheefe Nobility, Destroy'd themselues, and lost the Realme of France? Oh thinke vpon the Conquest of my Father, My tender yeares, and let vs not forgoe That for a trifle, that was bought with blood. Let me be Vmper in this doubtfull strife: I see no reason if I weare this Rose, That any one should therefore be suspitious I more incline to Somerset, than Yorke: Both are my kinsmen, and I loue them both. As well they may vpbray'd me with my Crowne, Because (forsooth) the King of Scots is Crown'd. But your discretions better can perswade, Then I am able to instruct or teach: And therefore, as we hither came in peace, So let vs still continue peace, and loue. Cosin of Yorke, we institute your Grace To be our Regent in these parts of France: And good my Lord of Somerset, vnite Your Troopes of horsemen, with his Bands of foote, And like true Subiects, sonnes of your Progenitors, Go cheerefully together, and digest Your angry Choller on your Enemies. Our Selfe, my Lord Protector, and the rest, After some respit, will returne to Calice; From thence to England, where I hope ere long To be presented by your Victories, With Charles, Alanson, and that Traiterous rout.

Exeunt. Manet Yorke, Warwick, Exeter, Vernon.

War. My Lord of Yorke, I promise you the King Prettily (me thought) did play the Orator

Yorke. And so he did, but yet I like it not, In that he weares the badge of Somerset

War. Tush, that was but his fancie, blame him not, I dare presume (sweet Prince) he thought no harme

York. And if I wish he did. But let it rest, Other affayres must now be managed.

Exeunt.

Flourish. Manet Exeter.

Exet. Well didst thou Richard to suppresse thy voice: For had the passions of thy heart burst out, I feare we should haue seene decipher'd there More rancorous spight, more furious raging broyles, Then yet can be imagin'd or suppos'd: But howsoere, no simple man that sees This iarring discord of Nobilitie, This shouldering of each other in the Court, This factious bandying of their Fauourites, But that it doth presage some ill euent. 'Tis much, when Scepters are in Childrens hands: But more, when Enuy breeds vnkinde deuision, There comes the ruine, there begins confusion. Enter.

Enter Talbot with Trumpe and Drumme, before Burdeaux.

Talb. Go to the Gates of Burdeaux Trumpeter, Summon their Generall vnto the Wall.

Sounds.

Enter Generall aloft.

English Iohn Talbot (Captaines) call you forth, Seruant in Armes to Harry King of England, And thus he would. Open your Citie Gates, Be humble to vs, call my Soueraigne yours, And do him homage as obedient Subiects, And Ile withdraw me, and my bloody power. But if you frowne vpon this proffer'd Peace, You tempt the fury of my three attendants, Leane Famine, quartering Steele, and climbing Fire, Who in a moment, eeuen with the earth, Shall lay your stately, and ayre-brauing Towers, If you forsake the offer of their loue

Cap. Thou ominous and fearefull Owle of death, Our Nations terror, and their bloody scourge, The period of thy Tyranny approacheth, On vs thou canst not enter but by death: For I protest we are well fortified, And strong enough to issue out and fight. If thou retire, the Dolphin well appointed, Stands with the snares of Warre to tangle thee. On either hand thee, there are squadrons pitcht, To wall thee from the liberty of Flight; And no way canst thou turne thee for redresse, But death doth front thee with apparant spoyle, And pale destruction meets thee in the face: Ten thousand French haue tane the Sacrament, To ryue their dangerous Artillerie Vpon no Christian soule but English Talbot: Loe, there thou standst a breathing valiant man Of an inuincible vnconquer'd spirit: This is the latest Glorie of thy praise, That I thy enemy dew thee withall: For ere the Glasse that now begins to runne, Finish the processe of his sandy houre, These eyes that see thee now well coloured, Shall see thee withered, bloody, pale, and dead.

Drum a farre off.

Harke, harke, the Dolphins drumme, a warning bell, Sings heauy Musicke to thy timorous soule, And mine shall ring thy dire departure out.

Exit

Tal. He Fables not, I heare the enemie: Out some light Horsemen, and peruse their Wings. O negligent and heedlesse Discipline, How are we park'd and bounded in a pale? A little Heard of Englands timorous Deere, Maz'd with a yelping kennell of French Curres. If we be English Deere, be then in blood, Not Rascall-like to fall downe with a pinch, But rather moodie mad: And desperate Stagges, Turne on the bloody Hounds with heads of Steele, And make the Cowards stand aloofe at bay: Sell euery man his life as deere as mine, And they shall finde deere Deere of vs my Friends. God, and S[aint]. George, Talbot and Englands right, Prosper our Colours in this dangerous fight. Enter a Messenger that meets Yorke. Enter Yorke with Trumpet, and many Soldiers.

Yorke. Are not the speedy scouts return'd againe, That dog'd the mighty Army of the Dolphin? Mess. They are return'd my Lord, and giue it out, That he is march'd to Burdeaux with his power To fight with Talbot as he march'd along. By your espyals were discouered Two mightier Troopes then that the Dolphin led, Which ioyn'd with him, and made their march for Burdeaux Yorke. A plague vpon that Villaine Somerset, That thus delayes my promised supply Of horsemen, that were leuied for this siege. Renowned Talbot doth expect my ayde, And I am lowted by a Traitor Villaine, And cannot helpe the noble Cheualier: God comfort him in this necessity: If he miscarry, farewell Warres in France. Enter another Messenger

2.Mes. Thou Princely Leader of our English strength, Neuer so needfull on the earth of France, Spurre to the rescue of the Noble Talbot, Who now is girdled with a waste of Iron, And hem'd about with grim destruction: To Burdeaux warlike Duke, to Burdeaux Yorke, Else farwell Talbot, France, and Englands honor

Yorke. O God, that Somerset who in proud heart Doth stop my Cornets, were in Talbots place, So should wee saue a valiant Gentleman, By forfeyting a Traitor, and a Coward: Mad ire, and wrathfull fury makes me weepe, That thus we dye, while remisse Traitors sleepe

Mes. O send some succour to the distrest Lord

Yorke. He dies, we loose: I breake my warlike word: We mourne, France smiles: We loose, they dayly get, All long of this vile Traitor Somerset

Mes. Then God take mercy on braue Talbots soule, And on his Sonne yong Iohn, who two houres since, I met in trauaile toward his warlike Father; This seuen yeeres did not Talbot see his sonne, And now they meete where both their liues are done

Yorke. Alas, what ioy shall noble Talbot haue, To bid his yong sonne welcome to his Graue: Away, vexation almost stoppes my breath, That sundred friends greete in the houre of death. Lucie farewell, no more my fortune can, But curse the cause I cannot ayde the man. Maine, Bloys, Poytiers, and Toures, are wonne away, Long all of Somerset, and his delay.

Exit

Mes. Thus while the Vulture of sedition, Feedes in the bosome of such great Commanders, Sleeping neglection doth betray to losse: The Conquest of our scarse-cold Conqueror, That euer-liuing man of Memorie, Henrie the fift: Whiles they each other crosse, Liues, Honours, Lands, and all, hurrie to losse. Enter Somerset with his Armie.

Som. It is too late, I cannot send them now: This expedition was by Yorke and Talbot, Too rashly plotted. All our generall force, Might with a sally of the very Towne Be buckled with: the ouer-daring Talbot Hath sullied all his glosse of former Honor By this vnheedfull, desperate, wilde aduenture: Yorke set him on to fight, and dye in shame, That Talbot dead, great Yorke might beare the name

Cap. Heere is Sir William Lucie, who with me Set from our ore-matcht forces forth for ayde

Som. How now Sir William, whether were you sent? Lu. Whether my Lord, from bought & sold L[ord]. Talbot, Who ring'd about with bold aduersitie, Cries out for noble Yorke and Somerset, To beate assayling death from his weake Regions, And whiles the honourable Captaine there Drops bloody swet from his warre-wearied limbes, And in aduantage lingring lookes for rescue, You his false hopes, the trust of Englands honor, Keepe off aloofe with worthlesse emulation: Let not your priuate discord keepe away The leuied succours that should lend him ayde, While he renowned Noble Gentleman Yeeld vp his life vnto a world of oddes. Orleance the Bastard, Charles, Burgundie, Alanson, Reignard, compasse him about, And Talbot perisheth by your default

Som. Yorke set him on, Yorke should haue sent him ayde

Luc. And Yorke as fast vpon your Grace exclaimes, Swearing that you with-hold his leuied hoast, Collected for this expidition

Som. York lyes: He might haue sent, & had the Horse: I owe him little Dutie, and lesse Loue, And take foule scorne to fawne on him by sending

Lu. The fraud of England, not the force of France, Hath now intrapt the Noble-minded Talbot: Neuer to England shall he beare his life, But dies betraid to fortune by your strife

Som. Come go, I will dispatch the Horsemen strait: Within sixe houres, they will be at his ayde

Lu. Too late comes rescue, he is tane or slaine, For flye he could not, if he would haue fled: And flye would Talbot neuer though he might

Som. If he be dead, braue Talbot then adieu

Lu. His Fame liues in the world. His Shame in you.

Exeunt.

Enter Talbot and his Sonne.

Tal. O yong Iohn Talbot, I did send for thee To tutor thee in stratagems of Warre, That Talbots name might be in thee reuiu'd, When saplesse Age, and weake vnable limbes Should bring thy Father to his drooping Chaire. But O malignant and ill-boading Starres, Now thou art come vnto a Feast of death, A terrible and vnauoyded danger: Therefore deere Boy, mount on my swiftest horse, And Ile direct thee how thou shalt escape By sodaine flight. Come, dally not, be gone

Iohn. Is my name Talbot? and am I your Sonne? And shall I flye? O, if you loue my Mother, Dishonor not her Honorable Name, To make a Bastard, and a Slaue of me: The World will say, he is not Talbots blood, That basely fled, when Noble Talbot stood

Talb. Flye, to reuenge my death, if I be slaine

Iohn. He that flyes so, will ne're returne againe

Talb. If we both stay, we both are sure to dye

Iohn. Then let me stay, and Father doe you flye: Your losse is great, so your regard should be; My worth vnknowne, no losse is knowne in me. Vpon my death, the French can little boast; In yours they will, in you all hopes are lost. Flight cannot stayne the Honor you haue wonne, But mine it will, that no Exploit haue done. You fled for Vantage, euery one will sweare: But if I bow, they'le say it was for feare. There is no hope that euer I will stay, If the first howre I shrinke and run away: Here on my knee I begge Mortalitie, Rather then Life, preseru'd with Infamie

Talb. Shall all thy Mothers hopes lye in one Tombe? Iohn. I, rather then Ile shame my Mothers Wombe

Talb. Vpon my Blessing I command thee goe

Iohn. To fight I will, but not to flye the Foe

Talb. Part of thy Father may be sau'd in thee

Iohn. No part of him, but will be shame in mee

Talb. Thou neuer hadst Renowne, nor canst not lose it

Iohn. Yes, your renowned Name: shall flight abuse it? Talb. Thy Fathers charge shal cleare thee from y staine

Iohn. You cannot witnesse for me, being slaine. If Death be so apparant, then both flye

Talb. And leaue my followers here to fight and dye? My Age was neuer tainted with such shame

Iohn. And shall my Youth be guiltie of such blame? No more can I be seuered from your side, Then can your selfe, your selfe in twaine diuide: Stay, goe, doe what you will, the like doe I; For liue I will not, if my Father dye

Talb. Then here I take my leaue of thee, faire Sonne, Borne to eclipse thy Life this afternoone: Come, side by side, together liue and dye, And Soule with Soule from France to Heauen flye. Enter.

Alarum: Excursions, wherein Talbots Sonne is hemm'd about, and Talbot rescues him.

Talb. Saint George, and Victory; fight Souldiers, fight: The Regent hath with Talbot broke his word, And left vs to the rage of France his Sword. Where is Iohn Talbot? pawse, and take thy breath, I gaue thee Life, and rescu'd thee from Death

Iohn. O twice my Father, twice am I thy Sonne: The Life thou gau'st me first, was lost and done, Till with thy Warlike Sword, despight of Fate, To my determin'd time thou gau'st new date

Talb. When fro[m] the Dolphins Crest thy Sword struck fire, It warm'd thy Fathers heart with prowd desire Of bold-fac't Victorie. Then Leaden Age, Quicken'd with Youthfull Spleene, and Warlike Rage, Beat downe Alanson, Orleance, Burgundie, And from the Pride of Gallia rescued thee. The irefull Bastard Orleance, that drew blood From thee my Boy, and had the Maidenhood Of thy first fight, I soone encountred, And interchanging blowes, I quickly shed Some of his Bastard blood, and in disgrace Bespoke him thus: Contaminated, base, And mis-begotten blood, I spill of thine, Meane and right poore, for that pure blood of mine, Which thou didst force from Talbot, my braue Boy. Here purposing the Bastard to destroy, Came in strong rescue. Speake thy Fathers care: Art thou not wearie, Iohn? How do'st thou fare? Wilt thou yet leaue the Battaile, Boy, and flie, Now thou art seal'd the Sonne of Chiualrie? Flye, to reuenge my death when I am dead, The helpe of one stands me in little stead. Oh, too much folly is it, well I wot, To hazard all our liues in one small Boat. If I to day dye not with Frenchmens Rage, To morrow I shall dye with mickle Age. By me they nothing gaine, and if I stay, 'Tis but the shortning of my Life one day. In thee thy Mother dyes, our Households Name, My Deaths Reuenge, thy Youth, and Englands Fame: All these, and more, we hazard by thy stay; All these are sau'd, if thou wilt flye away

Iohn. The Sword of Orleance hath not made me smart, These words of yours draw Life-blood from my Heart. On that aduantage, bought with such a shame, To saue a paltry Life, and slay bright Fame, Before young Talbot from old Talbot flye, The Coward Horse that beares me, fall and dye: And like me to the pesant Boyes of France, To be Shames scorne, and subiect of Mischance. Surely, by all the Glorie you haue wonne, And if I flye, I am not Talbots Sonne. Then talke no more of flight, it is no boot, If Sonne to Talbot, dye at Talbots foot

Talb. Then follow thou thy desp'rate Syre of Creet, Thou Icarus, thy Life to me is sweet: If thou wilt fight, fight by thy Fathers side, And commendable prou'd, let's dye in pride. Enter.

Alarum. Excursions. Enter old Talbot led.

Talb. Where is my other Life? mine owne is gone. O, where's young Talbot? where is valiant Iohn? Triumphant Death, smear'd with Captiuitie, Young Talbots Valour makes me smile at thee. When he perceiu'd me shrinke, and on my Knee, His bloodie Sword he brandisht ouer mee, And like a hungry Lyon did commence Rough deeds of Rage, and sterne Impatience: But when my angry Guardant stood alone, Tendring my ruine, and assayl'd of none, Dizzie-ey'd Furie, and great rage of Heart, Suddenly made him from my side to start Into the clustring Battaile of the French: And in that Sea of Blood, my Boy did drench His ouer-mounting Spirit; and there di'de My Icarus, my Blossome, in his pride. Enter with Iohn Talbot, borne.

Seru. O my deare Lord, loe where your Sonne is borne

Tal. Thou antique Death, which laugh'st vs here to scorn, Anon from thy insulting Tyrannie, Coupled in bonds of perpetuitie, Two Talbots winged through the lither Skie, In thy despight shall scape Mortalitie. O thou whose wounds become hard fauoured death, Speake to thy father, ere thou yeeld thy breath, Braue death by speaking, whither he will or no: Imagine him a Frenchman, and thy Foe. Poore Boy, he smiles, me thinkes, as who should say, Had Death bene French, then Death had dyed to day. Come, come, and lay him in his Fathers armes, My spirit can no longer beare these harmes. Souldiers adieu: I haue what I would haue, Now my old armes are yong Iohn Talbots graue.

Dyes

Enter Charles, Alanson, Burgundie, Bastard, and Pucell.

Char. Had Yorke and Somerset brought rescue in, We should haue found a bloody day of this

Bast. How the yong whelpe of Talbots raging wood, Did flesh his punie-sword in Frenchmens blood

Puc. Once I encountred him, and thus I said: Thou Maiden youth, be vanquisht by a Maide. But with a proud Maiesticall high scorne He answer'd thus: Yong Talbot was not borne To be the pillage of a Giglot Wench: So rushing in the bowels of the French, He left me proudly, as vnworthy fight

Bur. Doubtlesse he would haue made a noble Knight: See where he lyes inherced in the armes Of the most bloody Nursser of his harmes

Bast. Hew them to peeces, hack their bones assunder, Whose life was Englands glory, Gallia's wonder

Char. Oh no forbeare: For that which we haue fled During the life, let vs not wrong it dead. Enter Lucie.

Lu. Herald, conduct me to the Dolphins Tent, To know who hath obtain'd the glory of the day

Char. On what submissiue message art thou sent? Lucy. Submission Dolphin? Tis a meere French word: We English Warriours wot not what it meanes. I come to know what Prisoners thou hast tane, And to suruey the bodies of the dead

Char. For prisoners askst thou? Hell our prison is. But tell me whom thou seek'st? Luc. But where's the great Alcides of the field, Valiant Lord Talbot Earle of Shrewsbury? Created for his rare successe in Armes, Great Earle of Washford, Waterford, and Valence, Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Vrchinfield, Lord Strange of Blackmere, Lord Verdon of Alton, Lord Cromwell of Wingefield, Lord Furniuall of Sheffeild, The thrice victorious Lord of Falconbridge, Knight of the Noble Order of S[aint]. George, Worthy S[aint]. Michael, and the Golden Fleece, Great Marshall to Henry the sixt, Of all his Warres within the Realme of France

Puc. Heere's a silly stately stile indeede: The Turke that two and fiftie Kingdomes hath, Writes not so tedious a Stile as this. Him that thou magnifi'st with all these Titles, Stinking and fly-blowne lyes heere at our feete

Lucy. Is Talbot slaine, the Frenchmens only Scourge, Your Kingdomes terror, and blacke Nemesis? Oh were mine eye-balles into Bullets turn'd, That I in rage might shoot them at your faces. Oh, that I could but call these dead to life, It were enough to fright the Realme of France. Were but his Picture left amongst you here, It would amaze the prowdest of you all. Giue me their Bodyes, that I may beare them hence, And giue them Buriall, as beseemes their worth

Pucel. I thinke this vpstart is old Talbots Ghost, He speakes with such a proud commanding spirit: For Gods sake let him haue him, to keepe them here, They would but stinke, and putrifie the ayre

Char. Go take their bodies hence

Lucy. Ile beare them hence: but from their ashes shal be reard A Phoenix that shall make all France affear'd

Char. So we be rid of them, do with him what y wilt. And now to Paris in this conquering vaine, All will be ours, now bloody Talbots slaine. Enter.

Scena secunda.

SENNET.

Enter King, Glocester, and Exeter.

King. Haue you perus'd the Letters from the Pope, The Emperor, and the Earle of Arminack? Glo. I haue my Lord, and their intent is this, They humbly sue vnto your Excellence, To haue a godly peace concluded of, Betweene the Realmes of England, and of France

King. How doth your Grace affect their motion? Glo. Well (my good Lord) and as the only meanes To stop effusion of our Christian blood, And stablish quietnesse on euery side

King. I marry Vnckle, for I alwayes thought It was both impious and vnnaturall, That such immanity and bloody strife Should reigne among Professors of one Faith

Glo. Beside my Lord, the sooner to effect, And surer binde this knot of amitie, The Earle of Arminacke neere knit to Charles, A man of great Authoritie in France, Proffers his onely daughter to your Grace, In marriage, with a large and sumptuous Dowrie

King. Marriage Vnckle? Alas my yeares are yong: And fitter is my studie, and my Bookes, Then wanton dalliance with a Paramour. Yet call th' Embassadors, and as you please, So let them haue their answeres euery one: I shall be well content with any choyce Tends to Gods glory, and my Countries weale. Enter Winchester, and three Ambassadors.

Exet. What, is my Lord of Winchester install'd, And call'd vnto a Cardinalls degree? Then I perceiue, that will be verified Henry the Fift did sometime prophesie. If once he come to be a Cardinall, Hee'l make his cap coequall with the Crowne

King. My Lords Ambassadors, your seuerall suites Haue bin consider'd and debated on, Your purpose is both good and reasonable: And therefore are we certainly resolu'd, To draw conditions of a friendly peace, Which by my Lord of Winchester we meane Shall be transported presently to France

Glo. And for the proffer of my Lord your Master, I haue inform'd his Highnesse so at large, As liking of the Ladies vertuous gifts, Her Beauty, and the valew of her Dower, He doth intend she shall be Englands Queene

King. In argument and proofe of which contract, Beare her this Iewell, pledge of my affection. And so my Lord Protector see them guarded, And safely brought to Douer, wherein ship'd Commit them to the fortune of the sea.

Exeunt.

Win. Stay my Lord Legate, you shall first receiue The summe of money which I promised Should be deliuered to his Holinesse, For cloathing me in these graue Ornaments

Legat. I will attend vpon your Lordships leysure

Win. Now Winchester will not submit, I trow, Or be inferiour to the proudest Peere; Humfrey of Gloster, thou shalt well perceiue, That neither in birth, or for authoritie, The Bishop will be ouer-borne by thee: Ile either make thee stoope, and bend thy knee, Or sacke this Country with a mutiny.

Exeunt.

Scoena Tertia.

Enter Charles, Burgundy, Alanson, Bastard, Reignier, and Ione.

Char. These newes (my Lords) may cheere our drooping spirits: 'Tis said, the stout Parisians do reuolt, And turne againe vnto the warlike French

Alan. Then march to Paris Royall Charles of France, And keepe not backe your powers in dalliance

Pucel. Peace be amongst them if they turne to vs, Else ruine combate with their Pallaces. Enter Scout.

Scout. Successe vnto our valiant Generall, And happinesse to his accomplices

Char. What tidings send our Scouts? I prethee speak

Scout. The English Army that diuided was Into two parties, is now conioyn'd in one, And meanes to giue you battell presently

Char. Somewhat too sodaine Sirs, the warning is, But we will presently prouide for them

Bur. I trust the Ghost of Talbot is not there: Now he is gone my Lord, you neede not feare

Pucel. Of all base passions, Feare is most accurst. Command the Conquest Charles, it shall be thine: Let Henry fret, and all the world repine

Char. Then on my Lords, and France be fortunate.

Exeunt. Alarum. Excursions.

Enter Ione de Pucell.

Puc. The Regent conquers, and the Frenchmen flye. Now helpe ye charming Spelles and Periapts, And ye choise spirits that admonish me, And giue me signes of future accidents.

Thunder.

You speedy helpers, that are substitutes Vnder the Lordly Monarch of the North, Appeare, and ayde me in this enterprize.

Enter Fiends.

This speedy and quicke appearance argues proofe Of your accustom'd diligence to me. Now ye Familiar Spirits, that are cull'd Out of the powerfull Regions vnder earth, Helpe me this once, that France may get the field.

They walke, and speake not.

Oh hold me not with silence ouer-long: Where I was wont to feed you with my blood, Ile lop a member off, and giue it you, In earnest of a further benefit: So you do condiscend to helpe me now.

They hang their heads.

No hope to haue redresse? My body shall Pay recompence, if you will graunt my suite.

They shake their heads.

Cannot my body, nor blood-sacrifice, Intreate you to your wonted furtherance? Then take my soule; my body, soule, and all, Before that England giue the French the foyle.

They depart.

See, they forsake me. Now the time is come, That France must vale her lofty plumed Crest, And let her head fall into Englands lappe. My ancient Incantations are too weake, And hell too strong for me to buckle with: Now France, thy glory droopeth to the dust. Enter.

Excursions. Burgundie and Yorke fight hand to hand. French flye.

Yorke. Damsell of France, I thinke I haue you fast, Vnchaine your spirits now with spelling Charmes, And try if they can gaine your liberty. A goodly prize, fit for the diuels grace. See how the vgly Witch doth bend her browes, As if with Circe, she would change my shape

Puc. Chang'd to a worser shape thou canst not be: Yor. Oh, Charles the Dolphin is a proper man, No shape but his can please your dainty eye

Puc. A plaguing mischeefe light on Charles, and thee, And may ye both be sodainly surpriz'd By bloudy hands, in sleeping on your beds

Yorke. Fell banning Hagge, Inchantresse hold thy tongue

Puc. I prethee giue me leaue to curse awhile

Yorke. Curse Miscreant, when thou comst to the stake

Exeunt.

Alarum. Enter Suffolke with Margaret in his hand.

Suff. Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner.

Gazes on her.

Oh Fairest Beautie, do not feare, nor flye: For I will touch thee but with reuerend hands, I kisse these fingers for eternall peace, And lay them gently on thy tender side. Who art thou, say? that I may honor thee

Mar. Margaret my name, and daughter to a King, The King of Naples, who so ere thou art

Suff. An Earle I am, and Suffolke am I call'd. Be not offended Natures myracle, Thou art alotted to be tane by me: So doth the Swan her downie Signets saue, Keeping them prisoner vnderneath his wings: Yet if this seruile vsage once offend, Go, and be free againe, as Suffolkes friend.

She is going

Oh stay: I haue no power to let her passe, My hand would free her, but my heart sayes no. As playes the Sunne vpon the glassie streames, Twinkling another counterfetted beame, So seemes this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes. Faine would I woe her, yet I dare not speake: Ile call for Pen and Inke, and write my minde: Fye De la Pole, disable not thy selfe: Hast not a Tongue? Is she not heere? Wilt thou be daunted at a Womans sight? I: Beauties Princely Maiesty is such, 'Confounds the tongue, and makes the senses rough

Mar. Say Earle of Suffolke, if thy name be so, What ransome must I pay before I passe? For I perceiue I am thy prisoner

Suf. How canst thou tell she will deny thy suite, Before thou make a triall of her loue? M. Why speak'st thou not? What ransom must I pay? Suf. She's beautifull; and therefore to be Wooed: She is a Woman; therefore to be Wonne

Mar, Wilt thou accept of ransome, yea or no? Suf. Fond man, remember that thou hast a wife, Then how can Margaret be thy Paramour? Mar. I were best to leaue him, for he will not heare

Suf. There all is marr'd: there lies a cooling card

Mar. He talkes at randon: sure the man is mad

Suf. And yet a dispensation may bee had

Mar. And yet I would that you would answer me

Suf. Ile win this Lady Margaret. For whom? Why for my King: Tush, that's a woodden thing

Mar. He talkes of wood: It is some Carpenter

Suf. Yet so my fancy may be satisfied, And peace established betweene these Realmes. But there remaines a scruple in that too: For though her Father be the King of Naples, Duke of Aniou and Mayne, yet is he poore, And our Nobility will scorne the match

Mar. Heare ye Captaine? Are you not at leysure? Suf. It shall be so, disdaine they ne're so much: Henry is youthfull, and will quickly yeeld. Madam, I haue a secret to reueale

Mar. What though I be inthral'd, he seems a knight And will not any way dishonor me

Suf. Lady, vouchsafe to listen what I say

Mar. Perhaps I shall be rescu'd by the French, And then I need not craue his curtesie

Suf. Sweet Madam, giue me hearing in a cause

Mar. Tush, women haue bene captiuate ere now

Suf. Lady, wherefore talke you so? Mar. I cry you mercy, 'tis but Quid for Quo

Suf. Say gentle Princesse, would you not suppose Your bondage happy, to be made a Queene? Mar. To be a Queene in bondage, is more vile, Than is a slaue, in base seruility: For Princes should be free

Suf. And so shall you, If happy Englands Royall King be free

Mar. Why what concernes his freedome vnto mee? Suf. Ile vndertake to make thee Henries Queene, To put a Golden Scepter in thy hand, And set a precious Crowne vpon thy head, If thou wilt condiscend to be my- Mar. What? Suf. His loue

Mar. I am vnworthy to be Henries wife

Suf. No gentle Madam, I vnworthy am To woe so faire a Dame to be his wife, And haue no portion in the choice my selfe. How say you Madam, are ye so content? Mar. And if my Father please, I am content

Suf. Then call our Captaines and our Colours forth, And Madam, at your Fathers Castle walles, Wee'l craue a parley, to conferre with him.

Sound. Enter Reignier on the Walles.

See Reignier see, thy daughter prisoner

Reig. To whom? Suf. To me

Reig. Suffolke, what remedy? I am a Souldier, and vnapt to weepe, Or to exclaime on Fortunes ficklenesse

Suf. Yes, there is remedy enough my Lord, Consent, and for thy Honor giue consent, Thy daughter shall be wedded to my King, Whom I with paine haue wooed and wonne thereto: And this her easie held imprisonment, Hath gain'd thy daughter Princely libertie

Reig. Speakes Suffolke as he thinkes? Suf. Faire Margaret knowes, That Suffolke doth not flatter, face, or faine

Reig. Vpon thy Princely warrant, I descend, To giue thee answer of thy iust demand

Suf. And heere I will expect thy comming.

Trumpets sound. Enter Reignier.

Reig. Welcome braue Earle into our Territories, Command in Aniou what your Honor pleases

Suf. Thankes Reignier, happy for so sweet a Childe, Fit to be made companion with a King: What answer makes your Grace vnto my suite? Reig. Since thou dost daigne to woe her little worth, To be the Princely Bride of such a Lord: Vpon condition I may quietly Enioy mine owne, the Country Maine and Aniou, Free from oppression, or the stroke of Warre, My daughter shall be Henries, if he please

Suf. That is her ransome, I deliuer her, And those two Counties I will vndertake Your Grace shall well and quietly enioy

Reig. And I againe in Henries Royall name, As Deputy vnto that gracious King, Giue thee her hand for signe of plighted faith

Suf. Reignier of France, I giue thee Kingly thankes, Because this is in Trafficke of a King. And yet me thinkes I could be well content To be mine owne Atturney in this case. Ile ouer then to England with this newes. And make this marriage to be solemniz'd: So farewell Reignier, set this Diamond safe In Golden Pallaces as it becomes

Reig. I do embrace thee, as I would embrace The Christian Prince King Henrie were he heere

Mar. Farewell my Lord, good wishes, praise, & praiers, Shall Suffolke euer haue of Margaret.

Shee is going.

Suf. Farwell sweet Madam: but hearke you Margaret, No Princely commendations to my King? Mar. Such commendations as becomes a Maide, A Virgin, and his Seruant, say to him

Suf. Words sweetly plac'd, and modestie directed, But Madame, I must trouble you againe, No louing Token to his Maiestie? Mar. Yes, my good Lord, a pure vnspotted heart, Neuer yet taint with loue, I send the King

Suf. And this withall.

Kisse her.

Mar. That for thy selfe, I will not so presume, To send such peeuish tokens to a King

Suf. Oh wert thou for my selfe: but Suffolke stay, Thou mayest not wander in that Labyrinth, There Minotaurs and vgly Treasons lurke, Solicite Henry with her wonderous praise. Bethinke thee on her Vertues that surmount, Mad naturall Graces that extinguish Art, Repeate their semblance often on the Seas, That when thou com'st to kneele at Henries feete, Thou mayest bereaue him of his wits with wonder.

Exit

Enter Yorke, Warwicke, Shepheard, Pucell.

Yor. Bring forth that Sorceresse condemn'd to burne

Shep. Ah Ione, this kils thy Fathers heart out-right, Haue I sought euery Country farre and neere, And now it is my chance to finde thee out, Must I behold thy timelesse cruell death: Ah Ione, sweet daughter Ione, Ile die with thee

Pucel. Decrepit Miser, base ignoble Wretch, I am am descended of a gentler blood. Thou art no Father, nor no Friend of mine

Shep. Out, out: My Lords, and please you, 'tis not so I did beget her, all the Parish knowes: Her Mother liueth yet, can testifie She was the first fruite of my Bach'ler-ship

War. Gracelesse, wilt thou deny thy Parentage? Yorke. This argues what her kinde of life hath beene, Wicked and vile, and so her death concludes

Shep. Fye Ione, that thou wilt be so obstacle: God knowes, thou art a collop of my flesh, And for thy sake haue I shed many a teare: Deny me not, I prythee, gentle Ione

Pucell. Pezant auant. You haue suborn'd this man Of purpose, to obscure my Noble birth

Shep. 'Tis true, I gaue a Noble to the Priest, The morne that I was wedded to her mother. Kneele downe and take my blessing, good my Gyrle. Wilt thou not stoope? Now cursed be the time Of thy natiuitie: I would the Milke Thy mother gaue thee when thou suck'st her brest, Had bin a little Rats-bane for thy sake. Or else, when thou didst keepe my Lambes a-field, I wish some rauenous Wolfe had eaten thee. Doest thou deny thy Father, cursed Drab? O burne her, burne her, hanging is too good. Enter.

Yorke. Take her away, for she hath liu'd too long, To fill the world with vicious qualities

Puc. First let me tell you whom you haue condemn'd; Not me, begotten of a Shepheard Swaine, But issued from the Progeny of Kings. Vertuous and Holy, chosen from aboue, By inspiration of Celestiall Grace, To worke exceeding myracles on earth. I neuer had to do with wicked Spirits. But you that are polluted with your lustes, Stain'd with the guiltlesse blood of Innocents, Corrupt and tainted with a thousand Vices: Because you want the grace that others haue, You iudge it straight a thing impossible To compasse Wonders, but by helpe of diuels. No misconceyued, Ione of Aire hath beene A Virgin from her tender infancie, Chaste, and immaculate in very thought, Whose Maiden-blood thus rigorously effus'd, Will cry for Vengeance, at the Gates of Heauen

Yorke. I, I: away with her to execution

War. And hearke ye sirs: because she is a Maide, Spare for no Faggots, let there be enow: Place barrelles of pitch vpon the fatall stake, That so her torture may be shortned

Puc. Will nothing turne your vnrelenting hearts? Then Ione discouer thine infirmity, That warranteth by Law, to be thy priuiledge. I am with childe ye bloody Homicides: Murther not then the Fruite within my Wombe, Although ye hale me to a violent death

Yor. Now heauen forfend, the holy Maid with child? War. The greatest miracle that ere ye wrought. Is all your strict precisenesse come to this? Yorke. She and the Dolphin haue bin iugling, I did imagine what would be her refuge

War. Well go too, we'll haue no Bastards liue, Especially since Charles must Father it

Puc. You are deceyu'd, my childe is none of his, It was Alanson that inioy'd my loue

Yorke. Alanson that notorious Macheuile? It dyes, and if it had a thousand liues

Puc. Oh giue me leaue, I haue deluded you, 'Twas neyther Charles, nor yet the Duke I nam'd, But Reignier King of Naples that preuayl'd

War. A married man, that's most intollerable

Yor. Why here's a Gyrle: I think she knowes not wel (There were so many) whom she may accuse

War. It's signe she hath beene liberall and free

Yor. And yet forsooth she is a Virgin pure. Strumpet, thy words condemne thy Brat, and thee. Vse no intreaty, for it is in vaine

Pu. Then lead me hence: with whom I leaue my curse. May neuer glorious Sunne reflex his beames Vpon the Countrey where you make abode: But darknesse, and the gloomy shade of death Inuiron you, till Mischeefe and Dispaire, Driue you to break your necks, or hang your selues.

Exit

Enter Cardinall.

Yorke. Breake thou in peeces, and consume to ashes, Thou fowle accursed minister of Hell

Car. Lord Regent, I do greete your Excellence With Letters of Commission from the King. For know my Lords, the States of Christendome, Mou'd with remorse of these out-ragious broyles, Haue earnestly implor'd a generall peace, Betwixt our Nation, and the aspyring French; And heere at hand, the Dolphin and his Traine Approacheth, to conferre about some matter

Yorke. Is all our trauell turn'd to this effect, After the slaughter of so many Peeres, So many Captaines, Gentlemen, and Soldiers, That in this quarrell haue beene ouerthrowne, And sold their bodyes for their Countryes benefit, Shall we at last conclude effeminate peace? Haue we not lost most part of all the Townes, By Treason, Falshood, and by Treacherie, Our great Progenitors had conquered: Oh Warwicke, Warwicke, I foresee with greefe The vtter losse of all the Realme of France

War. Be patient Yorke, if we conclude a Peace It shall be with such strict and seuere Couenants, As little shall the Frenchmen gaine thereby. Enter Charles, Alanson, Bastard, Reignier.

Char. Since Lords of England, it is thus agreed, That peacefull truce shall be proclaim'd in France, We come to be informed by your selues, What the conditions of that league must be

Yorke. Speake Winchester, for boyling choller chokes The hollow passage of my poyson'd voyce, By sight of these our balefull enemies

Win. Charles, and the rest, it is enacted thus: That in regard King Henry giues consent, Of meere compassion, and of lenity, To ease your Countrie of distressefull Warre, And suffer you to breath in fruitfull peace, You shall become true Liegemen to his Crowne. And Charles, vpon condition thou wilt sweare To pay him tribute, and submit thy selfe, Thou shalt be plac'd as Viceroy vnder him, And still enioy thy Regall dignity

Alan. Must he be then as shadow of himselfe? Adorne his Temples with a Coronet, And yet in substance and authority, Retaine but priuiledge of a priuate man? This proffer is absurd, and reasonlesse

Char. 'Tis knowne already that I am possest With more then halfe the Gallian Territories, And therein reuerenc'd for their lawfull King. Shall I for lucre of the rest vn-vanquisht, Detract so much from that prerogatiue, As to be call'd but Viceroy of the whole? No Lord Ambassador, Ile rather keepe That which I haue, than coueting for more Be cast from possibility of all

Yorke. Insulting Charles, hast thou by secret meanes Vs'd intercession to obtaine a league, And now the matter growes to compremize, Stand'st thou aloofe vpon Comparison. Either accept the Title thou vsurp'st, Of benefit proceeding from our King, And not of any challenge of Desert, Or we will plague thee with incessant Warres

Reig. My Lord, you do not well in obstinacy, To cauill in the course of this Contract: If once it be neglected, ten to one We shall not finde like opportunity

Alan. To say the truth, it is your policie, To saue your Subiects from such massacre And ruthlesse slaughters as are dayly seene By our proceeding in Hostility, And therefore take this compact of a Truce, Although you breake it, when your pleasure serues

War. How sayst thou Charles? Shall our Condition stand? Char. It Shall: Onely reseru'd, you claime no interest In any of our Townes of Garrison

Yor. Then sweare Allegeance to his Maiesty, As thou art Knight, neuer to disobey, Nor be Rebellious to the Crowne of England, Thou nor thy Nobles, to the Crowne of England. So, now dismisse your Army when ye please: Hang vp your Ensignes, let your Drummes be still, For heere we entertaine a solemne peace.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus.

Enter Suffolke in conference with the King, Glocester, and Exeter.

King. Your wondrous rare description (noble Earle) Of beauteous Margaret hath astonish'd me: Her vertues graced with externall gifts, Do breed Loues setled passions in my heart, And like as rigour of tempestuous gustes Prouokes the mightiest Hulke against the tide, So am I driuen by breath of her Renowne, Either to suffer Shipwracke, or arriue Where I may haue fruition of her Loue

Suf. Tush my good Lord, this superficiall tale, Is but a preface of her worthy praise: The cheefe perfections of that louely Dame, (Had I sufficient skill to vtter them) Would make a volume of inticing lines, Able to rauish any dull conceit. And which is more, she is not so Diuine, So full repleate with choice of all delights, But with as humble lowlinesse of minde, She is content to be at your command: Command I meane, of Vertuous chaste intents, To Loue, and Honor Henry as her Lord

King. And otherwise, will Henry ne're presume: Therefore my Lord Protector, giue consent, That Marg'ret may be Englands Royall Queene

Glo. So should I giue consent to flatter sinne, You know (my Lord) your Highnesse is betroath'd Vnto another Lady of esteeme, How shall we then dispense with that contract, And not deface your Honor with reproach? Suf. As doth a Ruler with vnlawfull Oathes, Or one that at a Triumph, hauing vow'd To try his strength, forsaketh yet the Listes By reason of his Aduersaries oddes. A poore Earles daughter is vnequall oddes, And therefore may be broke without offence

Gloucester. Why what (I pray) is Margaret more then that? Her Father is no better than an Earle, Although in glorious Titles he excell

Suf. Yes my Lord, her Father is a King, The King of Naples, and Ierusalem, And of such great Authoritie in France, As his alliance will confirme our peace, And keepe the Frenchmen in Allegeance

Glo. And so the Earle of Arminacke may doe, Because he is neere Kinsman vnto Charles

Exet. Beside, his wealth doth warrant a liberal dower, Where Reignier sooner will receyue, than giue

Suf. A Dowre my Lords? Disgrace not so your King, That he should be so abiect, base, and poore, To choose for wealth, and not for perfect Loue. Henry is able to enrich his Queene, And not to seeke a Queene to make him rich, So worthlesse Pezants bargaine for their Wiues, As Market men for Oxen, Sheepe, or Horse. Marriage is a matter of more worth, Then to be dealt in by Atturney-ship: Not whom we will, but whom his Grace affects, Must be companion of his Nuptiall bed. And therefore Lords, since he affects her most, Most of all these reasons bindeth vs, In our opinions she should be preferr'd. For what is wedlocke forced? but a Hell, An Age of discord and continuall strife, Whereas the contrarie bringeth blisse, And is a patterne of Celestiall peace. Whom should we match with Henry being a King, But Margaret, that is daughter to a King: Her peerelesse feature, ioyned with her birth, Approues her fit for none, but for a King. Her valiant courage, and vndaunted spirit, (More then in women commonly is seene) Will answer our hope in issue of a King. For Henry, sonne vnto a Conqueror, Is likely to beget more Conquerors, If with a Lady of so high resolue, (As is faire Margaret) he be link'd in loue. Then yeeld my Lords, and heere conclude with mee, That Margaret shall be Queene, and none but shee

King. Whether it be through force of your report, My Noble Lord of Suffolke: Or for that My tender youth was neuer yet attaint With any passion of inflaming Loue, I cannot tell: but this I am assur'd, I feele such sharpe dissention in my breast, Such fierce alarums both of Hope and Feare, As I am sicke with working of my thoughts. Take therefore shipping, poste my Lord to France, Agree to any couenants, and procure That Lady Margaret do vouchsafe to come To crosse the Seas to England, and be crown'd King Henries faithfull and annointed Queene. For your expences and sufficient charge, Among the people gather vp a tenth. Be gone I say, for till you do returne, I rest perplexed with a thousand Cares. And you (good Vnckle) banish all offence: If you do censure me, by what you were, Not what you are, I know it will excuse This sodaine execution of my will. And so conduct me, where from company, I may reuolue and ruminate my greefe. Enter.

Glo. I greefe I feare me, both at first and last.

Exit Glocester.

Suf. Thus Suffolke hath preuail'd, and thus he goes As did the youthfull Paris once to Greece, With hope to finde the like euent in loue, But prosper better than the Troian did: Margaret shall now be Queene, and rule the King: But I will rule both her, the King, and Realme.

Exit

FINIS. The first Part of Henry the Sixt.

The second Part of Henry the Sixt

with the death of the Good Duke Hvmfrey

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Flourish of Trumpets: Then Hoboyes.

Enter King, Duke Humfrey, Salisbury, Warwicke, and Beauford on the one side. The Queene, Suffolke, Yorke, Somerset, and Buckingham, on the other.

Suffolke. As by your high Imperiall Maiesty, I had in charge at my depart for France, As Procurator to your Excellence, To marry Princes Margaret for your Grace; So in the Famous Ancient City, Toures, In presence of the Kings of France, and Sicill, The Dukes of Orleance, Calaber, Britaigne, and Alanson, Seuen Earles, twelue Barons, & twenty reuerend Bishops I haue perform'd my Taske, and was espous'd, And humbly now vpon my bended knee, In sight of England, and her Lordly Peeres, Deliuer vp my Title in the Queene To your most gracious hands, that are the Substance Of that great Shadow I did represent: The happiest Gift, that euer Marquesse gaue, The Fairest Queene, that euer King receiu'd

King. Suffolke arise. Welcome Queene Margaret, I can expresse no kinder signe of Loue Then this kinde kisse: O Lord, that lends me life, Lend me a heart repleate with thankfulnesse: For thou hast giuen me in this beauteous Face A world of earthly blessings to my soule, If Simpathy of Loue vnite our thoughts

Queen. Great King of England, & my gracious Lord, The mutuall conference that my minde hath had, By day, by night; waking, and in my dreames, In Courtly company, or at my Beades, With you mine Alder liefest Soueraigne, Makes me the bolder to salute my King, With ruder termes, such as my wit affoords, And ouer ioy of heart doth minister

King. Her sight did rauish, but her grace in Speech, Her words yclad with wisedomes Maiesty, Makes me from Wondring, fall to Weeping ioyes, Such is the Fulnesse of my hearts content. Lords, with one cheerefull voice, Welcome my Loue

All kneel. Long liue Qu[eene]. Margaret, Englands happines

Queene. We thanke you all.

Florish

Suf. My Lord Protector, so it please your Grace, Heere are the Articles of contracted peace, Betweene our Soueraigne, and the French King Charles, For eighteene moneths concluded by consent

Glo. Reads. Inprimis, It is agreed betweene the French K[ing]. Charles, and William de la Pole Marquesse of Suffolke, Ambassador for Henry King of England, That the said Henry shal espouse the Lady Margaret, daughter vnto Reignier King of Naples, Sicillia, and Ierusalem, and Crowne her Queene of England, ere the thirtieth of May next ensuing. Item, That the Dutchy of Aniou, and the County of Main, shall be released and deliuered to the King her father

King. Vnkle, how now? Glo. Pardon me gracious Lord, Some sodaine qualme hath strucke me at the heart, And dim'd mine eyes, that I can reade no further

King. Vnckle of Winchester, I pray read on

Win. Item, It is further agreed betweene them, That the Dutchesse of Aniou and Maine, shall be released and deliuered ouer to the King her Father, and shee sent ouer of the King of Englands owne proper Cost and Charges, without hauing any Dowry

King. They please vs well. Lord Marques kneel down, We heere create thee the first Duke of Suffolke, And girt thee with the Sword. Cosin of Yorke, We heere discharge your Grace from being Regent I'th parts of France, till terme of eighteene Moneths Be full expyr'd. Thankes Vncle Winchester, Gloster, Yorke, Buckingham, Somerset, Salisburie, and Warwicke. We thanke you all for this great fauour done, In entertainment to my Princely Queene. Come, let vs in, and with all speede prouide To see her Coronation be perform'd.

Exit King, Queene, and Suffolke.

Manet the rest.

Glo. Braue Peeres of England, Pillars of the State, To you Duke Humfrey must vnload his greefe: Your greefe, the common greefe of all the Land. What? did my brother Henry spend his youth, His valour, coine, and people in the warres? Did he so often lodge in open field: In Winters cold, and Summers parching heate, To conquer France, his true inheritance? And did my brother Bedford toyle his wits, To keepe by policy what Henrie got: Haue you your selues, Somerset, Buckingham, Braue Yorke, Salisbury, and victorious Warwicke, Receiud deepe scarres in France and Normandie: Or hath mine Vnckle Beauford, and my selfe, With all the Learned Counsell of the Realme, Studied so long, sat in the Councell house, Early and late, debating too and fro How France and Frenchmen might be kept in awe, And hath his Highnesse in his infancie, Crowned in Paris in despight of foes, And shall these Labours, and these Honours dye? Shall Henries Conquest, Bedfords vigilance, Your Deeds of Warre, and all our Counsell dye? O Peeres of England, shamefull is this League, Fatall this Marriage, cancelling your Fame, Blotting your names from Bookes of memory, Racing the Charracters of your Renowne, Defacing Monuments of Conquer'd France, Vndoing all as all had neuer bin

Car. Nephew, what meanes this passionate discourse? This preroration with such circumstance: For France, 'tis ours; and we will keepe it still

Glo. I Vnckle, we will keepe it, if we can: But now it is impossible we should. Suffolke, the new made Duke that rules the rost, Hath giuen the Dutchy of Aniou and Mayne, Vnto the poore King Reignier, whose large style Agrees not with the leannesse of his purse

Sal. Now by the death of him that dyed for all, These Counties were the Keyes of Normandie: But wherefore weepes Warwicke, my valiant sonne? War. For greefe that they are past recouerie. For were there hope to conquer them againe, My sword should shed hot blood, mine eyes no teares. Aniou and Maine? My selfe did win them both: Those Prouinces, these Armes of mine did conquer, And are the Citties that I got with wounds, Deliuer'd vp againe with peacefull words? Mort Dieu

Yorke. For Suffolkes Duke, may he be suffocate, That dims the Honor of this Warlike Isle: France should haue torne and rent my very hart, Before I would haue yeelded to this League. I neuer read but Englands Kings haue had Large summes of Gold, and Dowries with their wiues, And our King Henry giues away his owne, To match with her that brings no vantages

Hum. A proper iest, and neuer heard before, That Suffolke should demand a whole Fifteenth, For Costs and Charges in transporting her: She should haue staid in France, and steru'd in France Before - Car. My Lord of Gloster, now ye grow too hot, It was the pleasure of my Lord the King

Hum. My Lord of Winchester I know your minde. 'Tis not my speeches that you do mislike: But 'tis my presence that doth trouble ye, Rancour will out, proud Prelate, in thy face I see thy furie: If I longer stay, We shall begin our ancient bickerings: Lordings farewell, and say when I am gone, I prophesied, France will be lost ere long.

Exit Humfrey.

Car. So, there goes our Protector in a rage: 'Tis knowne to you he is mine enemy: Nay more, an enemy vnto you all, And no great friend, I feare me to the King; Consider Lords, he is the next of blood, And heyre apparant to the English Crowne: Had Henrie got an Empire by his marriage, And all the wealthy Kingdomes of the West, There's reason he should be displeas'd at it: Looke to it Lords, let not his smoothing words Bewitch your hearts, be wise and circumspect. What though the common people fauour him, Calling him, Humfrey the good Duke of Gloster, Clapping their hands, and crying with loud voyce, Iesu maintaine your Royall Excellence, With God preserue the good Duke Humfrey: I feare me Lords, for all this flattering glosse, He will be found a dangerous Protector

Buc. Why should he then protect our Soueraigne? He being of age to gouerne of himselfe. Cosin of Somerset, ioyne you with me, And altogether with the Duke of Suffolke, Wee'l quickly hoyse Duke Humfrey from his seat

Car. This weighty businesse will not brooke delay, Ile to the Duke of Suffolke presently.

Exit Cardinall.

Som. Cosin of Buckingham, though Humfries pride And greatnesse of his place be greefe to vs, Yet let vs watch the haughtie Cardinall, His insolence is more intollerable Then all the Princes in the Land beside, If Gloster be displac'd, hee'l be Protector

Buc. Or thou, or I Somerset will be Protectors, Despite Duke Humfrey, or the Cardinall.

Exit Buckingham, and Somerset.

Sal. Pride went before, Ambition followes him. While these do labour for their owne preferment, Behooues it vs to labor for the Realme. I neuer saw but Humfrey Duke of Gloster, Did beare him like a Noble Gentleman: Oft haue I seene the haughty Cardinall, More like a Souldier then a man o'th' Church, As stout and proud as he were Lord of all, Sweare like a Ruffian, and demeane himselfe Vnlike the Ruler of a Common-weale. Warwicke my sonne, the comfort of my age, Thy deeds, thy plainnesse, and thy house-keeping, Hath wonne the greatest fauour of the Commons, Excepting none but good Duke Humfrey. And Brother Yorke, thy Acts in Ireland, In bringing them to ciuill Discipline: Thy late exploits done in the heart of France, When thou wert Regent for our Soueraigne, Haue made thee fear'd and honor'd of the people, Ioyne we together for the publike good, In what we can, to bridle and suppresse The pride of Suffolke, and the Cardinall, With Somersets and Buckinghams Ambition, And as we may, cherish Duke Humfries deeds, While they do tend the profit of the Land

War. So God helpe Warwicke, as he loues the Land, And common profit of his Countrey

Yor. And so sayes Yorke, For he hath greatest cause

Salisbury. Then lets make hast away, And looke vnto the maine

Warwicke. Vnto the maine? Oh Father, Maine is lost, That Maine, which by maine force Warwicke did winne, And would haue kept, so long as breath did last: Main-chance father you meant, but I meant Maine, Which I will win from France, or else be slaine.

Exit Warwicke, and Salisbury. Manet Yorke.

Yorke. Aniou and Maine are giuen to the French, Paris is lost, the state of Normandie Stands on a tickle point, now they are gone: Suffolke concluded on the Articles, The Peeres agreed, and Henry was well pleas'd, To change two Dukedomes for a Dukes faire daughter. I cannot blame them all, what is't to them? 'Tis thine they giue away, and not their owne. Pirates may make cheape penyworths of their pillage, And purchase Friends, and giue to Curtezans, Still reuelling like Lords till all be gone, While as the silly Owner of the goods Weepes ouer them, and wrings his haplesse hands, And shakes his head, and trembling stands aloofe, While all is shar'd, and all is borne away, Ready to sterue, and dare not touch his owne. So Yorke must sit, and fret, and bite his tongue, While his owne Lands are bargain'd for, and sold: Me thinkes the Realmes of England, France, & Ireland, Beare that proportion to my flesh and blood, As did the fatall brand Althaea burnt, Vnto the Princes heart of Calidon: Aniou and Maine both giuen vnto the French? Cold newes for me: for I had hope of France, Euen as I haue of fertile Englands soile. A day will come, when Yorke shall claime his owne, And therefore I will take the Neuils parts, And make a shew of loue to proud Duke Humfrey, And when I spy aduantage, claime the Crowne, For that's the Golden marke I seeke to hit: Nor shall proud Lancaster vsurpe my right, Nor hold the Scepter in his childish Fist, Nor weare the Diadem vpon his head, Whose Church-like humors fits not for a Crowne. Then Yorke be still a-while, till time do serue: Watch thou, and wake when others be asleepe, To prie into the secrets of the State, Till Henrie surfetting in ioyes of loue, With his new Bride, & Englands deere bought Queen, And Humfrey with the Peeres be falne at iarres: Then will I raise aloft the Milke-white-Rose, With whose sweet smell the Ayre shall be perfum'd, And in my Standard beare the Armes of Yorke, To grapple with the house of Lancaster, And force perforce Ile make him yeeld the Crowne, Whose bookish Rule, hath pull'd faire England downe.

Exit Yorke.

Enter Duke Humfrey and his wife Elianor.

Elia. Why droopes my Lord like ouer-ripen'd Corn, Hanging the head at Ceres plenteous load? Why doth the Great Duke Humfrey knit his browes, As frowning at the Fauours of the world? Why are thine eyes fixt to the sullen earth, Gazing on that which seemes to dimme thy sight? What seest thou there? King Henries Diadem, Inchac'd with all the Honors of the world? If so, Gaze on, and grouell on thy face, Vntill thy head be circled with the same. Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious Gold. What, is't too short? Ile lengthen it with mine, And hauing both together heau'd it vp, Wee'l both together lift our heads to heauen, And neuer more abase our sight so low, As to vouchsafe one glance vnto the ground

Hum. O Nell, sweet Nell, if thou dost loue thy Lord, Banish the Canker of ambitious thoughts: And may that thought, when I imagine ill Against my King and Nephew, vertuous Henry, Be my last breathing in this mortall world. My troublous dreames this night, doth make me sad

Eli. What dream'd my Lord, tell me, and Ile requite it With sweet rehearsall of my mornings dreame? Hum. Me thought this staffe mine Office-badge in Court Was broke in twaine: by whom, I haue forgot, But as I thinke, it was by'th Cardinall, And on the peeces of the broken Wand Were plac'd the heads of Edmond Duke of Somerset, And William de la Pole first Duke of Suffolke. This was my dreame, what it doth bode God knowes

Eli. Tut, this was nothing but an argument, That he that breakes a sticke of Glosters groue, Shall loose his head for his presumption. But list to me my Humfrey, my sweete Duke: Me thought I sate in Seate of Maiesty, In the Cathedrall Church of Westminster, And in that Chaire where Kings & Queens wer crownd, Where Henrie and Dame Margaret kneel'd to me, And on my head did set the Diadem

Hum. Nay Elinor, then must I chide outright: Presumptuous Dame, ill-nurter'd Elianor, Art thou not second Woman in the Realme? And the Protectors wife belou'd of him? Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command, Aboue the reach or compasse of thy thought? And wilt thou still be hammering Treachery, To tumble downe thy husband, and thy selfe, From top of Honor, to Disgraces feete? Away from me, and let me heare no more

Elia. What, what, my Lord? Are you so chollericke With Elianor, for telling but her dreame? Next time Ile keepe my dreames vnto my selfe, And not be check'd