Pucel. Nor grieve that Roan is so recovered.

S CEN NE VII.
Enter Dauphin, Bastard, Alanson, and Joan la Pucelle.

ISMA Y not, Princes, at this accident,
Care is no cure, but rather corrosive,
For things that are not to be remedy'd.
Let frantic Talbot triumph for a while ;
And, like a Peacock, sweep along his tail:
We'll pull his plumes and take away his train,
If Dauphin and the rest will be but rul'd.

- Dau. We have been guided by thee hitherto, ?

And of thy cunning had no diffidence. 2 One sudden foil shall never breed distrust.

Baft. Search out thy wit for secret policies, 1 And we will make thee famous through the world.

Alan. We'll set thy ftatue in fome holy place,
And have thee reverenc'd like a blessed Saint.
Employ thee then, sweet virgin, for our good.

Pucel. Then thus it must be, this doth Joan devise :
By fair perfuafions mixt with fugar'd words,
We will entice the Duke of Burgundy
To leave the Talbot, and to follow us,

Dau. Ay, marry, fwceting, if we could do That,
France were no place for Henry's warriors; ';
Nor shall that Nation boast it so 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 shall perceive how I will work, To bring this matter to the wished end,

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

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

Now

TE

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

[Trumpets found a parley.

Enter the Duke of Burgundy marching. Dau. A Parley with the Duke of Burgundy:

Burg. Who craves a parley with the Burgundy ?

(man, Pucel. The princely Charles of France, thy country, Burg. What sayft thou, Charles ? for I am marche ing hence

(words. Dau. Speak, Pucelle, and enchant him with thy

Pucel. Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France ! Stay, let thy humble hand-maid speak to thee.

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

Pucel. Look on thy country, look on fertile France; And see the cities, and the towns defac'd By wasting ruin of the cruel foe. As looks the mother * on her lovely babe, When death doth close his tender dying eyes ; See, see the pining malady of France, Behold the wounds, the most unnat'ral wounds, Which thou thyself haft giv'n her woful breast. Oh, turn thy edged sword another way; Strike those that hurt; and hurt not those that help: One drop of blood, drawn from thy country's bosom, Should grieve thee more than streams 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 answering to fertile France above, which this domestic Image is brought to illustrate,

Burg.

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

Pucel. Besides, all French and France exclaim on thee;
Doubting thy birth, and lawful progeny.
Whom join'ít thou with, but with a lordly nation
That will not trust thee but for profit's fake?
When Talbot hath set footing once in France,
And fashion'd thee that inftrument of Ill;
Who then but English Henry will be lord,
And thou be thrust 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 set him free without his ransom paid;
In spight of Burgundy, and all his friends.
See then, thou fight'st against thy countrymen;
And join'st with them, will be thy slaughter-men.
Come, come, return; return, thou wand'ring lord;
Charles, and the rest will take thee in their arms.

Burg. I'm vanquished. These haughty words of hers
Have batter'd me like roaring cannon-shot,
And made me almoft yield upon my knees.
Forgive me, country, and sweet 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.

Bast. 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

Tal. M ,

S CE N E IX.

Changes to PARIS. Enter King Henry, Gloucester, Winchester, York,

Suffolk, Somerset, Warwick, Exeter, &c. To them Talbot, with his Soldiers.

Y 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 sign whereof, this arm (that hath reclaim'd
To your obedience fifty fortresses,
Twelve cities, and sev'n walled towns of strength,
Beside five hundred prisoners of esteem ;)
Let's fall the sword before your Highness' feet :
And with submissive loyalty of heart
Ascribes the glory of his Conquest got,
First to my God, and next unto your Grace.

K. Henry. Is this the fam'd lord Talbot, uncle Glofler, That hath so long been resident in France ?

Glou. Yes, if it please your Majesty, my Liege.
K. Henry. Welcome, brave Captain, and vidorious

lord.
When I was young, (as yet I am not old)
I do remember how my father said,
A ftouter champion never handled sword.
Long since we were resolved of your truth,
Your faithful service and

your

toil in war; Yet never have

you
tasted
your

reward,
Or been reguerdon'd with so muc' as thanks,
Because 'till now we never

faw
your

face:
Therefore stand up, and, for these good deserts,
We here create you Earl of Shrewsbury,
And in our Coronation take your place. [Exeunt.

Manent Vernon and Basset.
Ver. Now, Sir, to you that were so hot at sea,

Disgracing

Disgracing of these colours that I wear
In honour of my noble lord of York;
Dar'st thou maintain the former words thou spak'st?

Bas. Yes, Sir, as well as you dare patronage
The envious barking of your faucy tongue
* Against my lord, the Duke of Sumerset.

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. Bal. Villain, thou know'st, the law of arms is such, d

That, whoso draws a sword in th' presence 't's death;
Or else this blow fhould broach thy deareft blood.
But I'll unto his Majesty, and crave
I may have liberty to 'venge this wrong;
When thou shalt see, I'll meet thee to thy cost.

Ver. Well, miscreant, I'll be there as soon as you;
And, after, meet you sooner than you would.[Excunt.

A CT IV.

SCENE I.

PARIS.
Enter King Henry, Gloucester, Winchester, York
Suffolk, Somerfet, Warwick, Talbot, Exeter,

and Governor of Paris.

GLOUCESTER,
ORD Bishop, set the Crown upon his head.
Win. God save King Henry, of that name the

Siath!
Glou. Now, Governor of Paris, take your oath,
That you ele no other King but him;
Efteem none finds, but such as are his friends;
And none your foes, but such as shall pretend
Malicious practices against his state.
TI fhall ye do, so help you righteous God!

Enter

L