"Jhesus Maria. "Hant et redouté prince, duc de Bourgogne, Jehanne la Pucelle vous requiert, de par le roi du ciel, mon droiturier souverain seigneur, que le roi de France et vous fassiez bonne paix, ferme, qui dure longuement. Pardonnez l'un à l'autre de bon cœur, entièrement, ainsi que doivent faire loyaux chrétiens; et s'il vous plaît guerroyer, allez sur le Sarrasin. Prince de Bourgogne, je vous prie, supplie, et requiers tant humblement que je vous puis requérir, que ne guerroyiez plus au saint royaume de France, et faites retraire incontinent et brièvement vos gens qui sont en aucunes places et forteresses du dit royaume. De la part du gentil roi de France, il est prêt de faire paix avec vous, sauf son honneur; et il ne tient qu'à vous. Et je vous fais savoir, de par le roi du ciel, mon droiturier et souverain seigneur, pour votre bien et pour votre honneur, que vous ne gagnerez point de bataille contre les loyaux Fran

çais; et que tous ceux qui guerroyent au dit saint royaume de France guerroyent contre le roi Jhesus, roi du ciel et de tout le monde, mon droiturier et souverain seigneur. Et vous prie et vous requiers à jointes mains que ne fassiez nulle bataille, ni ne guerroyiez contre nous, vous, vos gens, et vos sujets. Croyez sûrement, quelque nombre de gens que vous ameniez contre nous, qu'ils n'y gagneront mie; et sera grand pitié de la grand bataille et du sang qui sera répandu de ceux qui y viendront contre nous. Il y a trois semaines que je vous ai écrit et envoyez de bonnes lettres par un héraut pour que vous fussiez au sacre du roi qui, aujourd'hui dimanche, dix-septième jour de ce présent mois de juillet, se fait en la cité de Reims. Je n'en ai pas eu réponse, ni onc depuis n'a ouï nouvelles du héraut. A Dieu vous recommande et soit garde de vous, s'il lui plaît, et prie Dieu qu'il y mette bonne paix. Ecrit au dit lieu de Reims, le 17 juillet."

Enter KING HENRY, GLOSTER, EXETER, YORK, SUFFOLK, SOMERSET, WINCHESTER, WARWICK, TALBOT, the Governor of Paris, and others. Glo. Lord bishop, set the crown upon his head. Win. God save king Henry, of that name the sixth!

Glo. Now, governor of Paris, take your oath,[Governor kneels. That you elect no other king but him: Esteem none friends but such as are his friends; And none your foes but such as shall pretend" Malicious practices against his state:

This shall ye do, so help you righteous God!

[Exeunt Gov. and his Train.

Enter Sir JOHN FASTOLFE.

A letter was deliver'd to my hands,
Writ to your grace from the duke of Burgundy.
Tal. Shame to the duke of Burgundy, and

thee!

I vow'd, base knight, when I did meet thee next, To tear the garter from thy craven's leg,

[Plucking it off.

(Which I have done) because unworthily
Thou wast installed in that high degree.
Pardon me, princely Henry, and the rest:
This dastard, at the battle of Patay,
When but in all I was six thousand strong,
And that the French were almost ten to one,
Before we met, or that a stroke was given,
Like to a trusty squire, did run away;
In which assault we lost twelve hundred men;
Myself, and divers gentlemen beside,
Were there surpris'd and taken prisoners.

Calais,

To haste unto your coronation,

• Pretend-intend.

Or whether that such cowards ought to wear
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 captain, and a leader.
Tal. When first this order was ordain'd, my
lords,

Knights of the garter were of noble birth;
Valiant, and virtuous, full of haughty courage,
Such as were grown to credit by the wars;
Not fearing death, nor shrinking for distress,
But always resolute in most extremes.
He then that is not furnish'd in this sort
Doth but usurp the sacred name of knight,
Profaning this most honourable order;
And should (if I were worthy to be judge)
Be quite degraded, like a hedge-born swain
That doth presume to boast of gentle blood.

K. Hen. Stain to thy countrymen ! thou hear'st thy doom:

Be packing therefore, thou that wast a knight; Henceforth we banish thee, on pain of death.— [Exit FASTOLFe.

And now, lord protector, view the letter
Sent from our uncle duke of Burgundy.
Glo. What means his grace, that he hath
chang'd his style?

[Viewing the superscription.

No more but, plain and bluntly,—To the king?'
Hath he forgot he is his sovereign?
Or doth this churlish superscription
Pretend some alteration in good will?
What's here?' I have, upon especial cause,—
[Reads.

Mov'd with compassion of my country's wrack,
Together with the pitiful complaints
Of such as your oppression feeds upon,—
Forsaken your pernicious faction,

And join'd with Charles, the rightful king of
France.'

O monstrous treachery! Can this be so;
That in alliance, amity, and oaths,

There should be found such false dissembling guile?

K. Hen. What! doth my uncle Burgundy revolt?

Glo. He doth, my lord; and is become your foe. K. Hen. Is that the worst this letter doth contain?

Glo. It is the worst, and all, my lord, he writes. K. Hen. Why then, lord Talbot there shall talk with him,

And give him chastisement for this abuse :How say you, my lord? are you not content? Tal. Content, my liege? Yes; but that I am prevented,

I should have begg'd I might have been employ'd. • Prevented-gone before-anticipated.

K. Hen. Then gather strength, and march unto him straight:

Let him perceive how ill we brook 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. [Exit.

Enter VERNON and BASSET.

Ver. Grant me the combat, gracious sovereign! Bas. And me, my lord, grant me the combat too!

York. This is my servant: Hear him, noble prince!

Som. And this is mine: Sweet Henry, favour

him!

K. Hen. Be patient, lords, and give them leave to speak.—

Say, gentlemen, What makes you thus exclaim? And wherefore crave you combat? 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.

K. Hen. What is that wrong whereof you both complain?

First let me know, and then I'll answer you.

Bas. Crossing the sea from England into
France,

This fellow here, with envious carping tongue,
Upbraided me about the rose I wear;
Saying the sanguine colour of the leaves
Did represent my master's blushing cheeks,
When stubbornly he did repugn the truth,
About a certain question in the law,
Argued betwixt the duke of York and him;
With other vile and ignominious terms:
In confutation of which rude reproach,
And in defence of my lord's worthiness,
I crave the benefit of law of arms.

Ver. And that is my petition, noble lord:
For though he seem, with forged quaint conceit,
To set a gloss upon his bold intent,

Yet know, my lord, I was provok'd by him; And he first took exceptions at this badge, Pronouncing that the paleness of this flower Bewray'd the faintness of my master's heart. York. Will not this malice, Somerset, be left? Som. Your private grudge, my lord of York,

will out,

Though ne'er so cunningly you smother it. K. Hen. Good Lord! what madness rules in brain-sick men ;

When, for so slight and frivolous a cause,

• Repugn-resist.

Such factious emulations shall arise:
Good cousins both, of York and Somerset,
Quiet yourselves, I pray, and be at peace.

York. Let this dissention first be tried by fight, And then your highness shall command a peace. Som. The quarrel toucheth none but us alone; Betwixt ourselves let us decide it then.

York. There is my pledge; accept it, Somerset. Ver. Nay, let it rest where it began at first. Bas. Confirm it so, mine honourable lord. Glo. Confirm 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 disturb the king and us? And you, my lords,-methinks you do not well, To bear with their perverse objections; Much less to take occasion from their mouths To raise a mutiny betwixt yourselves; Let me persuade you, take a better course. Exe. It grieves his highness:-Good my lords, be friends.

K. Hen. Come hither, you that would be combatants:

Henceforth, I charge you, as you love our favour,
Quite to forget this quarrel, and the cause.
And you, my lords, remember where we are;
In France, amongst a fickle wavering nation:
If they perceive dissention in our looks,
And that within ourselves we disagree,
How will their grudging stomachs be provok'd
To wilful disobedience, and rebel?
Beside, what infamy will there arise,
When foreign princes shall be certified
That, for a toy, a thing of no regard,
King Henry's peers and chief nobility
Destroy'd themselves, and lost the realm of

France!

O, think upon the conquest of my father,

My tender years; and let us not forego
That for a trifle that was bought with blood!
Let me be umpire in this doubtful strife.
I see no reason, if I wear this rose,

[Putting on a red rose.
That any one should therefore be suspicious
I more incline to Somerset than York:
Both are my kinsmen, and I love them both :
As well they may upbraid me with my crown,
Because, forsooth, the king of Scots is crown'd.
But your discretions better can persuade
Than I am able to instruct or teach:
And therefore, as we hither came in peace,
So let us still continue peace and love.
Cousin of York, we institute your grace
To be our regent in these parts of France:

And good my lord of Somerset, unite
Your troops of horsemen with his bands of foot;
And, like true subjects, sons of your progenitors,
Go cheerfully together, and digest
Your angry choler on your enemies.
Ourself, my lord protector, and the rest,
After some respite, will return to Calais;
From thence to England, where I hope ere long
To be presented, by your victories,
With Charles, Alençon, and that traitorous rout.
[Flourish. Exeunt KING HENRy, Glo.,
SOM., WIN., SUF., and BASSET.
War. My lord of York, I promise you, the king
Prettily, methought, did play the orator.

York. And so he did; but yet I like it not, In that he wears the badge of Somerset.

War. Tush! that was but his fancy, blame him not;

I dare presume, sweet prince, he thought no harm. York. And, if I wist he did,--But let it rest; Other affairs must now be managed.

[Exeunt YORK, WARWICK, and VERNON. Exe. Well didst thou, Richard, to suppress thy voice:

For had the passions of thy heart burst out,
I fear we should have seen decipher'd there
More rancorous spite, more furious raging broils,
Than yet can be imagin'd or suppos'd.
But howsoe'er, no simple man that sees
This jarring discord of nobility,
This should'ring of each other in the court,
This factious bandying of their favourites,
But that it doth presage some ill event.

"T is much, when sceptres are in children's hands: But more, when envy breeds unkind division; There comes the ruin, there begins confusion.

Enter TALBOT, with his Forces.

Tal. Go to the gates of Bourdeaux, trumpeter : Summon their general unto the wall.

Trumpet sounds a parley. Enter, on the walls,
the General of the French Forces, and others.
English John Talbot, captains, calls you forth,
Servant in arms to Harry king of England;
And thus he would,-Open your city gates;
Be humble to us; call my sovereign yours,
And do him homage as obedient subjects;
And I'll withdraw me and my bloody power:
But, if you frown upon this proffer'd peace,
You tempt the fury of my three attendants,
Lean famine, quartering steel, and climbing fire;

Who, in a moment, even with the earth
Shall lay your stately and air-braving towers,
If you forsake the offer of their love.

Gen. Thou ominous and fearful owl of death,
Our nation's terror, and their bloody scourge!
The period of thy tyranny approacheth.
On us 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 Dauphin, well appointed,
Stands with the snares of war to tangle thee:
On either hand thee there are squadrons pitch'd,
To wall thee from the liberty of flight;
And no way canst thou turn thee for redress,
But death doth front thee with apparent spoil,
And pale destruction meets thee in the face.
Ten thousand French have ta’en the sacrament,
To rive their dangerous artillery

Upon no Christian soul but English Talbot.
Lo! there thou stand'st, a breathing valiant man,
Of an invincible unconquer'd spirit:
This is the latest glory of thy praise,
That I, thy enemy, due thee withal;
For ere the glass that now begins to run
Finish the process of his sandy hour,
These eyes, that see thee now well coloured,
Shall see thee wither'd, bloody, pale, and dead.
[Drum afar off.
Hark! hark! the Dauphin's drum, a warning
bell,

Sings heavy music to thy timorous soul,
And mine shall ring thy dire departure out.

[Exeunt General, &c., from the walls. Tal. He fables not, I hear the enemy;— Out, some light horsemen, and peruse their wings.

O, negligent and heedless discipline!
How are we park'd, and bounded in a pale;
A little herd of England's timorous deer,
Maz'd with a yelping kennel of French curs!
If we be English deer, be then in blood: ↳
Not rascal-like, to fall down with a pinch;
But rather moody-mad and desperate stags,
Turn on the bloody hounds with heads of steel,
And make the cowards stand aloof at bay :
Sell every man his life as dear as mine,

And they shall find dear deer of us, my friends. God, and Saint George! Talbot, and England's | right!

Prosper our colours in this dangerous fight!

SCENE III.-Plains in Gascony.

Enter YORK, with Forces; to him a Messenger. York. Are not the speedy scouts return'd again,

That dogg'd the mighty army of the Dauphin? Mess. They are return'd, my lord: and give

it out

That he is march'd to Bourdeaux with his power,
To fight with Talbot: As he march'd along,
By your espials were discovered

Two mightier troops than that the Dauphin led; Which join'd with him, and made their march for Bourdeaux.

York. A plague upon that villain Somerset, That thus delays my promised supply Of horsemen, that were levied for this siege! Renowned Talbot doth expect my aid; And I am lowted by a traitor villain, And cannot help the noble chevalier : God comfort him in this necessity! If he miscarry, farewell wars in France.

Enter Sir WILLIAM LUCY.

Lucy. Thou princely leader of our English strength,

Never so needful on the earth of France,
Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot;
Who now is girdled with a waist of iron,
And hemm'd about with grim destruction:
To Bourdeaux, warlike duke! to Bourdeaux,
York!

Else, farewell Talbot, France, and England's honour.

York. O God! that Somerset, who in proud

heart

Doth stop my cornets, were in Talbot's place!
So should we save a valiant gentleman,
By forfeiting a traitor and a coward.
Mad ire, and wrathful fury, makes me weep,
That thus we die, while remiss traitors sleep.
Lucy. O, send some succour to the distress'd

lord!

York. He dies, we lose; I break my warlike word:

We mourn, France smiles; we lose, they daily get;

All 'long of this vile traitor Somerset.

Lucy. Then, God take mercy on brave Talbot's soul!

And on his son, young John; whom, two hours

since,

I met in travel toward his warlike father!

Lorted.-Malone explains this, "I am treated with contempt like a lowt."