Enter Dauphin, Bastard, Alanson, and Joan la Pucelle.

Pucel.

IS MAY not, Princes, at this accident,

DISMAY

at

Care is no cure, but rather corrofive,
For things that are not to be remedy'd.
Let frantic Talbot triumph for a while;
And, like a Peacock, fweep along his tail:
We'll pull his plumes and take away his train,
If Dauphin and the reft will be but rul'd.

Dau. We have been guided by thee hitherto,
And of thy cunning had no diffidence.
One fudden foil fhall never breed diftruft.

Baft. Search out thy wit for fecret policies,
And we will make thee famous through the world.
Alan. We'll fet thy ftatue in fome holy place,
And have thee reverenc'd like a bleffed Saint.
Employ thee then, fweet virgin, for our good.
Pucel. Then thus it must be, this doth Joan devife':
By fair persuasions mixt with fugar'd words,
We will entice the Duke of Burgundy

To leave the Talbot, and to follow us.

Dau. Ay, marry, fweeting, if we could do That, France were no place for Henry's warriors;

Nor fhall that Nation boast it fo with us,

But be extirped from our provinces.

Alan. For ever should they be expuls'd from France, And not have title of an Earldom here.

Pucel. Your honours fhall perceive how I will work, To bring this matter to the wished end.

[Drum beats afar off. Hark, by the found of drum you may perceive Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward.

[Here beat an English march, There goes the Talbot with his colours fpread, And all the troops of English after him.[Fren. March.

Now

Now, in the rereward, comes the Duke and his :
Fortune, in favour, makes him lag behind,
Summon a parley, we will talk with him.

Dau.

SCENE

[Trumpets found a parley.

VIII.

Enter the Duke of Burgundy marching.

A Parley with the Duke of Burgundy.

Burg. Who craves a parley with the Bur

gundy?

[man, Pucel. The princely Charles of France, thy countryBurg. What fayft thou, Charles? for I am march

ing hence.

[words. Dau. Speak, Pucelle, and enchant him with thy Pucel. Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France! Stay, let thy humble hand-maid fpeak to thee.

Burg. Speak on, but be not over-tedious.

Pucel. Look on thy country, look on fertile France;
And fee the cities, and the towns defac'd
By wafting ruin of the cruel foe.

As looks the mother* on her lovely babe,
When death doth close his tender dying eyes;
See, fee the pining malady of France,

Behold the wounds, the moft unnat'ral wounds,
Which thou thyself haft giv'n her woful breast.
Oh, turn thy edged fword another way;

Strike thofe that hurt; and hurt not those that help:
One drop of blood, drawn from thy country's bofom,
Should grieve thee more than ftreams of common
gore;

Return thee, therefore, with a flood of tears,
And wash away thy country's stained spots.

*on her lowly babe,] It is plain Shakespear wrote, lovely babe, it anfwering to fertile France above, which this domeftic Image is brought

to illuftrate.

1 Burg.

1

Burg. Either fhe hath bewitch'd me with her words, Or nature makes me fuddenly return.

Pucel. Befides, all French and France exclaim on thee; Doubting thy birth, and lawful progeny.

Whom join'ft thou with, but with a lordly nation
That will not truft thee but for profit's fake?
When Talbot hath fet footing once in France,
And fashion'd thee that inftrument of Ill;
Who then but English Henry will be lord,
And thou be thruft out like a fugitive?
Call we to mind, and mark but this for proof;
Was not the Duke of Orleans thy foe?
And was not he in England prisoner?
But when they heard he was thine enemy,
They fet him free without his ransom paid;
In fpight of Burgundy, and all his friends.
See then, thou fight'ft against thy countrymen;
And join'ft with them, will be thy flaughter-men.
Come, come, return; return, thou wand'ring lord;
Charles, and the reft will take thee in their arms.
Burg. I'm vanquished. Thefe haughty words of hers
Have batter'd me like roaring cannon-shot,
And made me almoft yield upon my
knees.
Forgive me, country, and fweet countrymen ;
And, lords, accept this hearty kind embrace.
My forces and my pow'r of men are yours.
So farewel, Talbot, I'll no longer trust thee.

Pucel. Done, like a Frenchman: turn, and turn
again!

Dau. Welcome, brave Duke! thy friendship makes us fresh.

Baft. And doth beget new courage in our breasts. Alan. Pucelle hath bravely play'd her part in this, And doth deserve a Coronet of gold.

Dau. Now let us on, my lords, and join our powers; And seek how we may prejudice the foe.

[Exeunt.

SCENE

SCEN, E IX.

Changes to PARIS.

Enter King Henry, Gloucefter, Winchester, York, Suffolk, Somerset, Warwick, Exeter, &c. To them Talbot, with his Soldiers.

Tal. MY gracious Prince, and honourable Peers,

Hearing of your arrival in this realm,

I have a while giv'n truce unto my wars,
To do my duty to my Sovereign.

In fign whereof, this arm (that hath reclaim'd
To your obedience fifty fortreffes,

Twelve cities, and fev'n walled towns of ftrength,
Befide five hundred prifoners of esteem ;)
Let's fall the fword before your Highnefs' feet:
And with fubmiffive loyalty of heart

Afcribes the glory of his Conqueft got,

Firft to my God, and next unto your

Grace.

K. Henry. Is this the fam'd lord Talbot, uncle Glo'fier, That hath fo long been refident in France?

Glou. Yes, if it please your Majefty, my Liege.

K. Henry. Welcome, brave Captain, and victorious lord.

When I was young, (as yet I am not old)
I do remember how my father faid,
A ftouter champion never handled fword.
Long fince we were refolved of your truth,
Your faithful fervice and your toil in war;
Yet never have you tafted your reward,
Or been reguerdon'd with fo muc as thanks,
Because 'till now we never faw your face:
Therefore ftand up, and, for these good deferts,
We here create you Earl of Shrewsbury,
And in our Coronation take your place.

Manent Vernon and Basset.

[Exeunt.

Ver. Now, Sir, to you that were fo hot at fea,

Difgracing

1

Difgracing of these colours that I wear
In honour of my noble lord of York;

Dar't thou maintain the former words thou spak'st?
Baf. Yes, Sir, as well as you dare patronage
The envious barking of your faucy tongue
Against my lord, the Duke of Somerset.
Ver. Sirrah, thy lord I honour as he is.
Baf. Why, what is he? as good a man as York.
Ver. Hark ye; not fo: in witness, take you that.
[Strikes him.
Baf. Villain, thou know'ft, the law of arms is fuch,
That, whofo draws a fword in th' prefence 't's death;
Or else this blow fhould broach thy deareft blood.
But I'll unto his Majefty, and crave

I may have liberty to 'venge this wrong;
When thou shalt fee, I'll meet thee to thy coft.

Ver. Well, mifcreant, I'll be there as soon as you;
And, after, meet you fooner than you would.[Exeunt.

ACT IV. SCENE I.

PARIS.

Enter King Henry, Gloucefter, Winchefter, York Suffolk, Somerfet, Warwick, Talbot, Exeter, and Governor of Paris.

LOR

GLOUCESTER,

ORD Bishop, fet the Crown upon his head.
Win. God fave King Henry, of that name the
Sixth!

Glou. Now, Governor of Paris, take your oath,
That you elect no other King but him;

Efteem none fiends, but fuch as are his friends;
And none your foes, but fuch as fhall pretend
Malicious practices against his ftate.

This fhall ye do, fo help you righteous God!

Enter