« ՆախորդըՇարունակել »
King Henry VI.
King. Henry Beanfort, Great Uncle to the King, Bishop of
Winchester, and afterwards Cardinal. John Beaufort, Farl of Somerset; afterwards Duke. Richard Plantagenet,'eldest Son of Richard, late Earl
of Cambridge; afterwards Duke of York. Earl of Warwick. Earl of Salisbury. Earl of Suffolk. Lord Talbot, afterwards Earl of Shrewsbury. John Talbot, his Son. Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March. Mortimer's Keeper, and a Lawyer. Sir John Fastolfe.' Sir William Lucy. Sir William Glansdale. Sir Thomas Gargrave. Mayor of London. Woodville, Lieut. of the Tower. Vernon, of the White Rose, or York Fuction. Basset, of the Red Rose, or Lancaster Faction. Charles, Dauphin, and afterwards King of France. Reignier, Duke of Anjou, and titular King of Naples. Duke of Burgundy. Duke of Alençon. Governor of Puris. Bastard of Orleans. Master-gunner of Orleans, and his Son. General of the French Forces in Bourdeaur. A French Sergeant.
A Porter. An old Shepherd, Father to Joan la Pucelle. Margaret, Daughter to Reignier; afterwards married
to King Henry. Countess of Auvergne. Joan la Pucelle, commonly called Joan of Arc. Fiends appearing to La Pucelle, Lords, Warders of the
Tower, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, and several Attendants, both on the English and French. SCENE, partly in England, and partly in France.
SCENE 1. WESTMINSTER-ABBEY.
covered, lying in State ; attended on by the Dukes of
Bed. Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to
Glo. England ne'er had a king, until his time,
IL Exe. We mourn in black; Why mourn we not in Henry is dead, and never shall revive: [blood? Upon a wooden coffin we attend; And deaths dishonourable victory We with our stately presence glorify, Like captives bound to a triumphant car. What! shall we curse the planets of mishap, That plotted thus our glory's overthrow? Or shall we think the subtle-witted French Conjurers and sorcerers, that, afraid of bim, By inagic verses have contriv'd his end?
Win. He was a king bless'd of the King of kings. Unto the French the dreadful judginent day So dreadful will not be, as was his sight. The battles of the Lord of Hosts be fought: The church's prayers made him so prosperons.
Glo. The church! where is it? Had not churchmen His thread of life had not so soon decay’d: (pray'd, None do you like but an effeminate prince, Whom, like a school-boy, you may overawe.
Win. Gloster, whate'er we like, thou art protector; And lookest to command the prince, and realm. Thy wife is proud; she holdeth thee in awe, More than God, or religious churchmen, may.
Glo. Name not religion, for thou lov'st the flesh; And ne'er throughout the year to church thou go'st, Except it be to pray against thy foes. Bed. Cease, cease these jars, and rest your minds in
peace! Let's to the altar :-Heralds, wait on us : Instead of gold, we'll offer up our arms; Since arms avail not, now that Henry's dead. Posterity, await for wretched years, When at their mothers' moist eyes babes shall suck; Our isle be made a nourish of salt tears, And none but women left to wail the dead. Henry the fifth! thy ghost I invocate; Prosper this realm, keep it from civil broils! Combat with adverse planets in the heavens! A far more glorious star thy soul will make, Than Julius Cæsar, or brightm
Enter a Messenger. Mess. My honourable lords, health to you all! Sad tidings bring I to you out of France, Of loss, of slaughter, and disconfiture: Guienne, Champaigne, Rheims, Orleans, Paris, Guysors, Poictiers, are all quite lost. Bed. What say'st thou, man, before dead Henry's
corse? Speak softly; or the loss of those great towns Will make him burst his lead, and rise from death.
Glo. Is Paris lost? is Rouen yielded up? If Henry were recall’d to life again, These news would cause him once more yield the ghost.
Exe. How were they lost? what treachery was us’d?
Mess. No treachery; but want of men and money. Among the soldiers this is muttered,That here you maintain several factions; And, whilst a field should be despatch'd and fought, You are disputing of your generals. One would have ling'ring wars, with little cost; Another would fly swift, but wanteth wings; A third man thinks, without expense at all, By guileful fair words peace may be obtain'd. Awake, awake, English nobility! Let not sloth dim your honours, new-begot: Cropp'd are the flower-de-luces in your arms; Of England's coat one half is cut away.
Exe. Were our tears wanting to this funeral,
Bed. Me they concern; regent I am of France :-
Enter another Messenger.