Act I, Scene i
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| | BEDFORD.: | |
| | Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night! | |
| | Comets, importing change of times and states, | |
| | Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky, | |
| | And with them scourge the bad revolting stars | |
| | That have consented unto Henry's death! | |
| | King Henry the Fifth, too famous to live long! | |
| | England ne'er lost a king of so much worth. | |
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| | GLOUCESTER.: | |
| | England ne'er had a king until his time. | |
| | Virtue he had, deserving to command: | |
| | His brandish'd sword did blind men with his beams: | |
| | His arms spread wider than a dragon's wings; | |
| | His sparkling eyes, replete with wrathful fire, | |
| | More dazzled and drove back his enemies | |
| | Than mid-day sun fierce bent against their faces. | |
| | What should I say? his deeds exceed all speech: | |
| | He ne'er lift up his hand but conquered. | |
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| | EXETER.: | |
| | We mourn in black: why mourn we not in blood? | |
| | Henry is dead and never shall revive: | |
| | Upon a wooden coffin we attend, | |
| | And death's dishonourable victory | |
| | We with our stately presence glorify, | |
| | Like captives bound to a triumphant car. | |
| | What! shall we curse the planets of mishap | |
| | That plotted thus our glory's overthrow? | |
| | Or shall we think the subtle-witted French | |
| | Conjurers and sorcerers, that afraid of him | |
| | By magic verses have contriv'd his end? | |
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| | WINCHESTER.: | |
| | He was a king bless'd of the King of kings; | |
| | Unto the French the dreadful judgment-day | |
| | So dreadful will not be as was his sight. | |
| | The battles of the Lord of hosts he fought: | |
| | The Church's prayers made him so prosperous. | |
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| | GLOUCESTER.: | |
| | The church! where is it? Had not churchmen pray'd, | |
| | His thread of life had not so soon decay'd: | |
| | None do you like but an effeminate prince, | |
| | Whom, like a school-boy, you may over-awe. | |
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| | WINCHESTER.: | |
| | Gloucester, 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. | |
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| | GLOUCESTER.: | |
| | 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. | |
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| | BEDFORD.: | |
| | Cease, cease these jars and rest your minds in peace: | |
| | Let's to the altar: heralds, wait on us: | |
| | Instead of gold, we'll offer up our arms; | |
| | Since arms avail not, now that Henry's dead. | |
| | Posterity, await for wretched years, | |
| | When at their mothers' moist eyes babes shall suck, | |
| | Our isle be made a marish of salt tears, | |
| | And none but women left to wail the dead. | |
| | Henry the Fifth, thy ghost I invocate: | |
| | Prosper this realm, keep it from civil broils, | |
| | Combat with adverse planets in the heavens! | |
| | A far more glorious star thy soul will make | |
| | Than Julius Caesar or bright— | |
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| | MESSENGER.: | |
| | My honourable lords, health to you all! | |
| | Sad tidings bring I to you out of France, | |
| | Of loss, of slaughter, and discomfiture: | |
| | Guienne, Champagne, Rheims, Orleans, | |
| | Paris, Guysors, Poictiers, are all quite lost. | |
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| | BEDFORD.: | |
| | What say'st thou, man, before dead Henry's corse? | |
| | Speak softly; or the loss of those great towns | |
| | Will make him burst his lead and rise from death. | |
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| | GLOUCESTER.: | |
| | Is Paris lost? Is Rouen yielded up | |
| | If Henry were recall'd to life again, | |
| | These news would cause him once more yield the ghost. | |
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| | EXETER.: | |
| | How were they lost? What treachery was us'd? | |
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| | MESSENGER.: | |
| | No treachery; but want of men and money. | |
| | Amongst the soldiers this is muttered, | |
| | That here you maintain several factions, | |
| | And whilst a field should be dispatch'd and fought, | |
| | You are disputing of your generals: | |
| | One would have lingering wars with little cost; | |
| | Another would fly swift, but wanteth wings; | |
| | A third thinks, without expense at all, | |
| | By guileful fair words peace may be obtain'd. | |
| | Awake, awake, English nobility! | |
| | Let not sloth dim your honours new-begot: | |
| | Cropp'd are the flower-de-luces in your arms; | |
| | Of England's coat one half is cut away. | |
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| | EXETER.: | |
| | Were our tears wanting to this funeral, | |
| | These tidings would call forth their flowing tides. | |
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| | BEDFORD.: | |
| | Me they concern; Regent I am of France. | |
| | Give me my steeled coat. I'll fight for France. | |
| | Away with these disgraceful wailing robes! | |
| | Wounds will I lend the French instead of eyes, | |
| | To weep their intermissive miseries. | |
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[Enter to them another Messenger.]
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| | MESSENGER.: | |
| | 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 Alencon flieth to his side. | |
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| | EXETER.: | |
| | The Dauphin crowned king! all fly to him! | |
| | O, whither shall we fly from this reproach? | |
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| | GLOUCESTER.: | |
| | We will not fly, but to our enemies' throats. | |
| | Bedford, if thou be slack, I'll fight it out. | |
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| | BEDFORD.: | |
| | Gloucester, why doubt'st thou of my forwardness? | |
| | An army have I muster'd in my thoughts, | |
| | Wherewith already France is overrun. | |
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[Enter another Messenger.]
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| | MESSENGER.: | |
| | 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. | |
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| | WINCHESTER.: | |
| | What! wherein Talbot overcame? is't so? | |
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| | MESSENGER.: | |
| | O, no; wherein Lord Talbot was o'erthrown: | |
| | The circumstance I'll tell you more at large. | |
| | The tenth of August last this dreadful lord, | |
| | Retiring from the siege of Orleans, | |
| | Having full scarce six thousand in his troop, | |
| | By three and twenty thousand of the French | |
| | Was round encompassed and set upon. | |
| | No leisure had he to enrank his men; | |
| | He wanted pikes to set before his archers; | |
| | Instead whereof sharp stakes pluck'd out of hedges | |
| | They pitched in the ground confusedly, | |
| | To keep the horsemen off from breaking in. | |
| | More than three hours the fight continued; | |
| | Where valiant Talbot above human thought | |
| | Enacted wonders with his sword and lance: | |
| | Hundreds he sent to hell, and none durst stand him; | |
| | Here, there, and every where, enrag'd he slew: | |
| | The French exclaim'd, the devil was in arms; | |
| | All the whole army stood agaz'd on him. | |
| | His soldiers spying his undaunted spirit | |
| | A Talbot! a Talbot! cried out amain, | |
| | And rush'd into the bowels of the battle. | |
| | Here had the conquest fully been seal'd up, | |
| | If Sir John Fastolfe had not play'd the coward. | |
| | He, being in the vaward, plac'd behind | |
| | With purpose to relieve and follow them, | |
| | Cowardly fled, not having struck one stroke. | |
| | Hence grew the general wreck and massacre; | |
| | Enclosed were they with their enemies: | |
| | A base Walloon, to win the Dauphin's grace, | |
| | Thrust Talbot with a spear into the back; | |
| | Whom all France with their chief assembled strength | |
| | Durst not presume to look once in the face. | |
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| | BEDFORD.: | |
| | Is Talbot slain? then I will slay myself, | |
| | For living idly here in pomp and ease, | |
| | Whilst such a worthy leader, wanting aid, | |
| | Unto his dastard foemen is betray'd. | |
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| | MESSENGER.: | |
| | O no, he lives; but is took prisoner, | |
| | And Lord Scales with him, and Lord Hungerford: | |
| | Most of the rest slaughter'd or took likewise. | |
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| | BEDFORD.: | |
| | His ransom there is none but I shall pay: | |
| | I'll hale the Dauphin headlong from his throne: | |
| | His crown shall be the ransom of my friend; | |
| | Four of their lords I'll change for one of ours. | |
| | Farewell, my masters; to my task will I; | |
| | Bonfires in France forthwith I am to make | |
| | To keep our great Saint George's feast withal: | |
| | Ten thousand soldiers with me I will take, | |
| | Whose bloody deeds shall make an Europe quake. | |
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| | MESSENGER.: | |
| | So you had need; for Orleans is besieg'd; | |
| | The English army is grown weak and faint: | |
| | The Earl of Salisbury craveth supply, | |
| | And hardly keeps his men from mutiny, | |
| | Since they, so few, watch such a multitude. | |
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| | EXETER.: | |
| | Remember, lords, your oaths to Henry sworn, | |
| | Either to quell the Dauphin utterly, | |
| | Or bring him in obedience to your yoke. | |
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| | BEDFORD.: | |
| | I do remember it, and here take my leave | |
| | To go about my preparation. | |
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| | GLOUCESTER.: | |
| | I'll to the Tower with all the haste I can, | |
| | To view the artillery and munition; | |
| | And then I will proclaim young Henry king. | |
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| | EXETER.: | |
| | To Eltham will I, where the young King is, | |
| | Being ordain'd his special governor; | |
| | And for his safety there I'll best devise. | |
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| | WINCHESTER.: | |
| | Each hath his place and function to attend: | |
| | I am left out; for me nothing remains. | |
| | But long I will not be Jack out of office: | |
| | The King from Eltham I intend to steal, | |
| | And sit at chiefest stern of public weal. | |
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