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K. Henry. And thofe occafions, uncle, were of force: Therefore, my loving Lords, our pleasure is, That Richard be restored to his blood,

War. Let Richard be restored to his blood, So fhall his father's wrongs be recompens'd. Win. As will the reft, fo willeth Winchester.

K. Fenry. If Richard will be true, not that alone, But all the whole inheritance I give,

That doth belong unto the house of York,
From whence you spring by lineal descent.
Rich. Thy humble fervant vows obedience,
And faithful fervice, till the point of death.

K. Henry. Stoop, then, and fet your knee against
And in reguerdon of that duty done, [my foot.
I gird thee with the valiant sword of York.
Rife, Richard, like a true Plantagenet,
And rife created Princely Duke of York.

Rich. And fo thrive Richard, as thy foes may fall! And as my duty fprings, fo perish they That grudge one thought against your Majefty! All Welcome, high Prince, the mighty Duke of York! Som. Perish, bafe Prince, ignoble Duke of York!

[Afide.

Glou. Now will it beft avail your Majefty
To cross the feas, and to be crown'd in France:
The prefence of a King ingenders love
Amongst his fubjects and his loyal friends,
As it difanimates his enemies.

K. Henry. When Glo'fter fays the word, King Henry

For friendly counfel cuts off many foes.

[goes; Glou. Your fhips already are in readinefs. [Exeunt.

Manet Exeter.

Exe. Ay, we may march in England or in France, Not feeing what is likely to ensue.

This late diffenfion grown betwixt the peers,
Burns under feigned afhes of forge'd love,
And will at last break out into a flame.
As fefter'd members rot but by degrees,
Till bones, and flesh, and finews, fall away;
So will this bafe and envious difcord breed.
And now I fear that fatal prophecy,

Which, in the time of Henry nam'd the Fifth,
Was in the mouth of every fucking babe;
That Henry born at Monmouth fhou'd win all;
And Henry born at Winsor fhould lofe all :
Which is fo plain, that Exeter doth wish
His days may finish ere that hapless time.

[Exit.

SCENE IV. Changes to Roan in France. Enter Joan la Pucelle difguis'd, and four Soldiers with facks upon their backs.

Pucel. Thefe are the city-gates, the gates of Roan, Thro' which our policy muft make a breach. Take heed, be wary, how you place your words; Talk like the vulgar fort of market-men, That come to gather money for their corn. If we have entrance, (as I hope we shall), And that we find the flothful watch but weak, I'll by a fign give notice to our friends, That Charles the Dauphin may encounter them. Sol. Our facks fhall be a mean to fack the city, And we be lords and rulers over Roan;

Therefore we'll knock.

Watch. Qui va là ?

Pucel. Paifans, pauvres gens de France.

[Knocks.

Poor market-folks that come to fell their corn. Watch. Enter, go in, the market-bell is rung. Pucel. Now, Roan, I'll shake thy bulwarks to the [Exeunt.

ground.

Enter Dauphin, Baftard, and Reignier.

Dau. St. Dennis blefs this happy ftratagem;
And once again we'll fleep fecure in Roan.
Baft. Here enter'd Pucelle and her practisants :
Now fhe is there, how will fhe specify

Where is the best and safeit paffage in?

Reig. By thrufting out a torch from yonder tow'r, Which, once difcern'd, fhews, that her meaning is, No way to that (for weakness) which fhe enter'd.

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Enter Joan la Pucelle on the top, thrusting out a torch burning.

Pucel. Behold this is the happy wedding-torch, That joineth Roan unto her countrymen,

But burning fatal to the Talbotites.

Baft. See noble Charles, the beacon of our friend, The burning torch in yonder turret ftands.

Dau. Now fhines it like a comet of revenge,

A prophet to the fall of all our foes.

Reig. Defer no time, delays have dangerous ends; Enter, and cry, The Dauphin! presently,

And then do execution on the watch.

[An alarm; Talbot in an excurfion. Tal. France, thou shalt rue this treafon with thy tears, If Talbot but furvive thy treachery.

Pucelle, that witch, that damned forcerefs,

Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares,

*

That hardly we escap'd the pride of France. [Exit.

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An Alarm: Excurfions. Bedford brought in fick in a chair. Enter Talbot and Burgundy, without; within, Joan la Pucelle, Dauphin, Baftard, and Alanfon, on the walls.

Pucel Good-morrow, gallants, want ye corn for I think the Duke of Burgundy will fast,

Before he'll buy again at fuch a rate.

'Twas full of darnel; do you like the tafte?

[bread?

Burg. Scoff on, vile fiend, and fhameless courtezan! I truft ere long to choke thee with thine own, And make thee curfe the harvest of that corn.

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Dau Your Grace may ftarve,perhaps,before that time. Bed. Oh, let not words,but deeds,revenge this treason! Pucel. What will ye do, good grey-beard? break a And run a tilt at death within a chair? [lance, Tal. Foul fiend of France, and hag of all defpight, Incompafs'd with thy luftful paramours, Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age, And twit with cowardice à man half-dead?

i, e, haughty power.

Damfel,

Damfel, I'll have a bout with you again,

Or else let Talbot perish with his fhame.

Pucel. Are you fo hot yet, Pucelle, hold thy peace; If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow.

[They whisper together in council. God speed the parliament! who shall be the speaker? Tal. Dare you come forth, and meet us in the field? Pucel. Belike your Lordship takes us then for fools, To try if that our own be ours, or no.

Tal. I fpeak not to that railing Hecate;
But unto thee, Alanfon, and the reft.

Will ye, like foldiers, come and fight it out?
Alan. Seignior, no.

Tal. Seignior, hang:- bafe muleteers of France!
Like peafant foot-boys do they keep the walls,
And dare not take up arms like gentlemen.

Pucel. Captains away; let's get us from the walls, For Talbot means no goodness by his looks.

God be wi' you, my Lord; we came, Sir, but to tell you
That we are here.
[Exeunt from the walls.

Tal. And there will we be too ere it be long,
Or else reproach be Talbot's greatest fame?
Vow, Burgundy, by honour of thy house,
Prick'd on by public wrongs fuftain'd in France,
Either to get the town again or die.
And I as fure as English Henry lives,
And as his father here was conqueror,
As fure as in this late-betrayed town
Great Coeur-de-lion's heart was buried;
So fure I fwear to get the town or die.

Burg. My vows are equal partners with thy vows.
Tal. But ere we go, regard this dying prince,
The valiant Duke of Bedford: come, my Lord,
We will beftow you in fome better place,
Fitter for fickness and for crazy age.

Bed. Lord Talbot, do not fo dishonour me : Here I will fit before the walls of Roan,

And will be partner of your weal and woe.

Burg. Courageous Bedford, let us now perfuade you. Bed. Not to be gone from hence: for once I read, That ftout Pendragon, in his litter fick,

Came to the field, and vanquished his foes.

Methinks

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Methinks I fhould revive the foldiers' hearts;
Because I ever found them as myself.

Tal. Undaunted spirit in a dying breast!
Then be it fo; heav'ns keep old Bedford fafe!
And now no more ado, brave Burgundy,
But gather we our forces out of hand,
And fet upon our boasting enemy.

[Exit.

An alarm: excurfions. Enter Sir John Falstaff, and a Captain.

Cap. Whither away, Sir John Falstaff, in fuch hafte? Fal. Whither away? to fave myself by flight. We are like to have the overthrow again.

Capt. What will you fly, and leave Lord Talbot? Fal. Ay, all the Talbots in the world to fave my life. [Exit. Capt.Cowardly Knight, ill fortune follow thee! Exit. Retreat excurfions. Pucelle, Alanfon, and Dauphin fy.

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Bed. Now, quiet foul, depart when Heaven fhall For I have feen our enemies' overthrow. What is the truft or stength of foolish man? They that of late were daring with their fcoffs, Are glad and fain by flight to fave themselves.

[Dies; and is carried off in his chair.

SCENE VI. Within the walls of Roan.
An alarm: Enter Talbot, Burgundy, and the rest.
Tal. Loft and recover'd in a day again?
This is a double honour, Burgundy;
Yet heav'ns have glory for this victory!

Burg. Warlike and martial Talbot, Burgundy
Infhrines thee in his heart, and there erects
Thy noble deeds as valour's monuments.

Tal. Thanks, gentle Duke. But where is Pucelle now! I think her old familiar is afleep.

Now where's the Bastard's braves, and Charles his glikes? What, all a-mort? Roan hangs her head for grief, That fuch a valiant company are fled.

"Now we will take fome order in the town,

Placing therein fome expert officers,

And

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