And then depart to Paris to the King; For there young Henry with his Nobles lies.' [Exeunt. Enter Dauphin, Baftard, Alanfon, and Joan la Pucelle. Pucel. Difmay not, Princes, at this accident, Nor grieve that Roan is fo recovered. Dau. We have been guided by thee hitherto, Baft. Search out thy wit for fecret policies, To leave the Talbot, and to follow us. Dau. Ay, marry, fweeting, if we cou'd do that, Nor fhall that nation boast it fo with us, 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 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 spread, And all the troops of English after him. Now in the rereward comes the Duke and his : [French march. Fortune, in favour, makes him lag behind; [Trumpets found a parley. SCENE VIII. Enter the Duke of Burgundy marching. man. Burg. What fay'ft thou, Charles? for I am marching hence. Dau. Speak, Pucelle, and inchant him with thy words. Pucel. Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France! Stay, let thy humble handmaid 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-deface'd By wafting ruin of the cruel foe. As looks the mother on her lovely babe, Behold the wounds, the most unnatʼral wounds, Burg. Either the hath bewitch'd me with her words, Or nature makes me fuddenly relent. Pucel. Befides,all French and France exclaim on thee, Doubting thy birth, and lawful progeny. Whom join' thou with, but with a lordly nation That will not trust thee but for profit's fake? Pucel. Done like a Frenchmen: turn, and turn again *. Dan. Welcome, brave Duke! they 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 deferve a coronet of gold. Dau. Now, let us on, my Lords, and join our powers, And feek how we may prejudice the foe. SCENE IX. [Exeunt. Changes to Paris. Enter King Henry, Gloucefter, Winchefter, York, Suf folk, Somerfet, Warwick, Exeter, &c. To them Tal bot, 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, * This feems to be an offering of the poet to his royal mistress's refentment, for Henry IV.'s laft great turn in religion, in the year 159' VOL. IV. 8 B Το To do my duty to my fovereign. In fign whereof, this arm (that hath reclaim'd Twelve cities, and fev'n walled towns of ftrength, Lets fall the fword before your Highnefs' feet; K.Henry. Is this the fam'd Lord Talbot,uncle Glo'ster, K. Henry. Welcome, brave Captain, and victorious When I was young, (as yet I am not old), [Lord. I do remember how my father faid, Manent Vernon and Baffet. [Exeunt, Ver. Now, Sir, to you that were fo hot at fea, Difgracing of these colours that I wear In honour of my Noble Lord of York; Dar'it thou maintain the former words thou fpak'st ? Ver. Sirrah, thy Lord I honour as he is. Baf. Villain, thou know'ft the law of arms is fuch, That whofo draws a fword in th' prefence, 't's death, Or elfe this blow fhould broach thy dearest blood. But I'll unto his Majefty, and crave I may have liberty to venge this wrong, When When thou fhalt fee I'll meet thee to thy coft. Ver. Well, mifereant, I'll be there as foon as you, And after meet you fooner than you would. [Exit. ACT IV. SCENE I. Paris. Enter King Henry, Gloucefter, Winchefter, York, Suffolk, Somerset, Warwick, Talbot, Exeter, and Gevernor of Paris. Glou. L 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 friends but fuch as are his friends, This fhall ye do, fo help you righteous God! Enter Falstaff. Fal. My gracious Sovereign, as I rode from Calais, To hafte unto your coronation, A letter was deliver'd to my hands, Writ to your Grace from th' Duke of Burgundy. · Were there furpris'd, and taken prisoners. This |