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Marc. Go, go into old Titus' sorrowful Do him that kindness, and take leave of him. house,

(To Attendants. Young Luc. O grandsire, grandsire ! even And hither hale that misbelieving Moor,

with all my heart To be adjudged some direful slaughtering Would I were dead, so you did live again : death,

O Lord, I cannot speak to him for weeping; As punishment for his most wicked life. My tears will choke me, if I ope my mouth. (Exeunt Attendants.

Re-enter Attendants with AARON. LUCIUS, MARCUS, and the others descend. All. Lucius, all hail, Rome's gracious gover- Æm. You sad Andronici, have done with

nor ! Luc. Thanks, gentle Romans : may I Give sentence on this execrable wretch, govern so,

That hath been breeder of these dire events. To heal Rome's harms, and wipe away her Luc. Set him breast-deep in earth, and woe!

famish him ; But, gentle people, give me aim awhile, There let him stand, and rave, and cry for For nature puts me to a heavy task : 150

food ;

JEO Stand all aloof : but, uncle, draw you near, If any one relieves or pities him, To shed obsequious tears upon this trunk. For the offence he dies. This is our doom : O, take this warm kiss on thy pale cold lips, Some stay to see him fasten'd in the earth.

(Kissing Titus. Aar. O, why should wrath be mute, and These sorrowful drops upon thy blood-stain'd fury dumb ? face,

I am no baby, I, that with base prayers The last trne duties of thy noble son !

I should repeni the evils I have done : Marc. Tear for tear, and loving kiss for Ten thousand worse than ever yet I did kiss,

Would I perform, if I might have my will ; Thy brother Marcus tenders on thy lips : If one good deed in all my life I did, O, were the sum of these that I should pay I do repent it from my very soul.

190 Countless and infinite, yet would I pay them! Luc.' Some loving friends convey the eni. Luc. Come hither, boy ; come, come, and

peror hence, learn of us

100 And give him burial in his father's grave : To melt in showers : thy grandsire loved thee My father and Lavinia shall forth with well :

Be closed in our household's monument Many a time he danced thee on his knee, As for that heinous tiger, Tamora, Sung thee asleep, his loving breast thy pillow : No funeral rite, nor man in mourning weeds, Many a matter hath he told to thee,

No mournful bell shall ring her burial ; Meet and agreeing with thine infancy ;

But throw her forth to beasts and birds of In that respect, then, like a loving child,

prey : Sbed yet some small drops from thy tender Her life was beast-like, and devoid of pity ; spring,

Avd, being so, shall have like want oi pity. Because kind nature doth require it so , See justice done on Aaron, that damn'd Moot. Frieuds should associate friends in grief and By whom our heavy haps had their beginning.

169 Then, afterwards, to order well the state, Bid him farewell ; commit him to the grave; That like events may ne'er it ruinate. [Excui





This is almost certainly an old play, by one or more authors, which, as we find it in the First Folio, had received touches from the hand of Shakespeare. In Henslowe's diary a llenry 17. is said to bare been acted Mar«h 3, 1591-92. It was extremely popular. Yash, in his Pierce Pennilesse (1592), alludes to the triumph on the stage of “ brave Talbot over the French. But we have no reason for assuming that the play which we possess was that mentioned by Henslowe, or alluded to by Nash. Greene had, perhaps, a chief hand in the play, and he may have been assisted by Peele and Marlowe. There is a general agreement among «rities in attributing to Shakespeare the scene (Act II. Sc. IV.) in which the white and red roses are plucked as emblems of the rival parties in the state ; perhaps the scene of the wooing of Margaret by Suffolk (Act V., 8C. III., L. 15. and onwards), if not written by Shakespeare was touched by him. The general spirit of the drama belongs to an older school ihan the Shakespearean, “and it is a happiness," says Prof. Dowden, “not to have to ascribe to our greatest poet the crude and hateful handling of tlie character of Joan of Arc, excused though to some extent it may be by the concurrence of view in our old English chronicles."


KING HENRY the Sixth.
DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, uncle to the King, and

DCKE OF BEDFORD, uncle to the King, and

Regent of France.
THOMAS BEAUFORT, Duke of Exeter, great-

uncle to the King.
HENRY BEAUFORT, great-uncle to the King,

Bishop of Winchester, and afterwards

JOHN BEAUFORT, Earl, afterwards Duke, of

RICHARD PLANTAGENET, son of Richard late

Earl of Cambridge, afterwards Duke

of York.
LORD TALBOT, afterwards Earl of Shrews-

JOHN TALBOT', his son.
Mayor of London.
WOODVILE, Lieutenant of the Tower.

VERNON, of the White-Rose or York faction.
BASSET, of the Red-Rose or Lancaster faction.
A Lawyer. Mortimer's Keepers.
CHARLES, Dauphin, and afterwards King, of

REIGNIER, Duke of Anjou, and titular King

of Naples.
Governor of Paris,
Master-Guner of Orleans, and his Son.
General of the French forces in Bourdeaux.
A French Sergeant. A Porter.
An old Shepherd, father to Joan la Pucelle.
MARGARET, daughter to Reignier, afterwards

married to King Henry.
JOAN LA PUCELLE, commonly called Joan of


Lords, Warders of the Tower, Heralds, Offi

cers, Soldiers, Messengers, and Attend-

Fiends appearing to La Pucelle.
SCENE : Partly in England, and partly in


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SCENE I. Westminster Abbey.
Dead March. Enter the Funeral of KING

HENRY the Fifth, attended on by the DUKE
OF BEDFORD, Regent of France, the DUKE
OF GLOUCESTER, Protector ; the DUKE OF
OP OF WINCHESTER, Heralds, dc.
Bed. Hung be the heavens with black,

yield day to night!
Comets, importing change of times and states,
Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky,
And with them scourge the bad revolting stars
That have consented unto Henry's death !
King Henry the Fifth, too famous to live long !
England ne'er lost a king of so much worth.
Glou. England ne'er had a king until his

time. Virtue he had, deserving to command : His brandish'd sword did blind men with his beams :

10 His arms spread wider than a dragon's wings His sparking eyes, replete with wrathful tire, More dazzled and drove back his enemies Than mid-day sun fierce bent against their

faces. What should I say? his deeds exceed all

speech : He ne'er lift up his hand but conquered. Ece. We mourn in black : why mourn we

not in blood ?
Henry is dead and never shall revive :
Upon a wooden coflìn we attend,
And death's dishonorable 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 him
By magic rerses have contrived his end ?
Win. He was a king bless'd of the King

of kings. Unto the French the dreadful judgement-day So dreadful will not be as was his sight. 30 The battles of the Lord of hosts he fought : The church's prayers made him so prosperous. Glou. The church ! where is it? Had not

churchmen pray'd, His thread of life had not so soon decay'd : None do you like but an effeminate prince, Whom, like a school-boy, you may over-awe. Win. Gloucester, 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 religions churehmen may 40 Glou. Name not religion, for thou lovest

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

Our isle be made a nourish of salt tears,
And none but women left to wail the dead.
Henry the Fifth, thy glost 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 bright

Enter a Messenger. Mess. My honorablo lords, health to you

all ! Sad tidings bring I to you out of France, Of loss, of slaughter and discomtiture : Guienne, Champagne, Rheims, Orleans, 60 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. Glou. 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 used ? Mess. No treachery ; but want of men and

money. Amongst the soldiers this is muttered, 70 That here you maintain several factions, And whilst a field should be dispatch'd and

fought, You are disputing of your generals : One would have lingering wars with little cost; Another would fly swift, but wanteth wings ; A third thinks, without expense at all, By guileful fair words peace may be obtain'd. Awake, awake, English nobility! Let not sloth dim your honors new-begot : Cropp'd are the flower-de-luces in your arms; Of England's coat one half is cut away. 81

Ere. Were our tears wanting to this funeral, These tidings would call forth their flowing

tides. Bed. Me they concern ; Regent I am of

France. Give me my steeled coat. I'll fight for France. Away with these disgraceful wailing robes ! Wounds will I lend the French instead of

To weep their intermissive miseries.

Enter to them another Messenger.
Mess. Lords, view these letters full of bad

France is revolted from the English quite, 90
Except some petty towns of no import :
The Dauphin Charles is crowned king of

The Bastard of Orleans with him is join'd;

Reignier, Duke of Anjou, doth take his part ;
The Duke of Alençon flieth to his side.
Ere. The Dauphin crowned king! all fly

to him! 0, whither shall we fly from this reproach ? Giou. We will not ily, but to our enemies'

thrvats. Beliord, if thou be slack, I'll fight it out. Bed. Gloucester, why doubt'st thou of my forwardness ?

100 An army hare I muster'd in my thoughts, Wherewith already France is overrun.

Enter another Messenger
Mess. My gracious lords, to add to your

laments, Wherewith you now bedew King Henry's

hearse, I must inform you of a dismal fight Betwixt the stout Lord Talbot and the French. Win, What! wherein Talbot overcame ?

is't so ? Vesz. 0, no; wherein Lord Talbot was

o'erthrown: The circumstance I'll tell you more at large. The tenth of August last this dreadful lord, Retiring from the siege of Orleans, 111 Having full scarce six thousand in his troop, Be three and twenty thousand of the French Was round encompassed and set upon. So leisure had he to enrank his men ; He wanted pikes to set before his archers ; lustead whereof sharp stakes pluck'd out of

hedges -Ther pitched in the ground confusedly,

To keep the horsemen off from breaking in. More than three hours the fight continued ; Where valiant Talbot above human thought Ena ted wonders with his sword and lance : Hundrels he sent to hell, and none durst

stind him; Here, there, and every where, enraged he flew : The French exclaim'd, the devil was in arms; All the whole army stood agazed on him : His soldiers spying his undaunted spirit A Talbot ! a Talbot! cried ont amain And rush'd into the bowels of the battle. Here had the conquest fully been seal'd up, If Sir John Fastolfe had not play'd the coward :

131 He, being in the vaward, placed behind With purpose to relieve and follow them, Cowardly fled, not having struck one stroke. Hence grew the general wreck and massacre ; Eorloser were they with their enemies : A base Walloon, to win the Dauphin's grace, Thrust Talbot with a spear into the back, wbom all France with their chief assembled

strength Darst not presume to look once in the face. Bed. Is Talbot slain ? then I will slay myself,

171 For living idly here in pomp and ease, Whilst such a worthy leader, wanting aid, Unto bis dastard foemen is betray’d.

Vess, O 10, he lives ; but took prisoner,

And Lord Scales with him and Lord Hunger

ford : Most of the rest slaughter'd or took likewise. Bed. His ransom there is none but I shall

pay : I'll hale the Dauphin headlong from his throne :

149 His crown shall be the ransom of my friend ; Four of their lords I'll change for one of ours. Farewell, my masters ; to my task will I ; Bonfires in France forth with I am to make, To keep our great Saint George's feast withal: Ten thousand soldiers with me I will take, Whose bloody deeds shall make all Europe

quake. Mess. So you had need ; for Orleans is be

sieged ; The English army is grown weak and faint : The Earl of Salisbury craveth supply, And hardly keeps his men from mutiny, 160 Since they, so few, watch such a multitude. Exe. Remember, lords, your oaths to Henry

Sworn, Either to quell the Dauphin utterly, Or bring lim in obedience to your yoke. Bed. I do remember it ; and here take my

leave, To go about my preparation.

[Exit. Glou, I'll to the Tower with all the haste I

can, To view the artillery and munition ; And then I will proclaim young Henry king.

[Erit. Ere. To Eltham will I, where the young king is,

Being ordain'd his special governor,
And for his safety there I'll best devise. (Exit.
Win. Each hath his place and function to

attend :
I am left out ; for me nothing remains.
But long I will not be Jack out of office :
The king from Eltham I intend to steal
And sit at chiefest stern of public weal.

[Exeunt. SCENE II. France. Before Orleans. Sound a flourish. Enter CHARLES, ALENÇON,

and REIGNIER, marching with drum and
Char. Mars his true moving, even as in the

So in the earth. to this day is not known :
Late did he shine upon the English side ;
Now we are victors ; upon us he smiles.
What towns of any moment but we have ?
At pleasure here we lie near Orleans ;
Otherwhiles the faniish'd English, like pale

ghosts, Faintly besiege us one hour in a month. Alen. They want their porridge and their

fat bull-beeves : Either they must be dieted like mules 10 And have their provender tied to their months Or piteous they will look, like drowned mice. Reig. Let's raise the siege: why live weidly


Talbot is taken, whom we wont to fear: Remaineth none but mad-brain'd Salisbury; And he may well in fretting spend his gall, Nor men nor money hath he to make war. Char. Sound, sound alarum! we will rush

on them. Now for the honor of the forlorn French ! Him I forgive my death that killeth me 20 When he sees me go back one foot or fly.

[Ereunt. Here alarum; they are beaten back by the

English with great loss. Re-enter CHARLES,
Char. Who ever saw the like? what men

have I! Dogs ! cowards ! dastards! I would ne'er

have fled, But that they left me 'midst my enemies.

Reig. Salisbury is a desperate homicide ; He fighteth as one weary of his life. The other lords, like lions wanting food, Do rush upon us as their hungry prey. Alen. Froissart, a countryman of ours, re

cords, England all Olivers and Rowlands bred, 30 During the time Edward the Third did reign. More truly now may this be verified ; For none but Samsons and Goliases It sendeth forth to skirmish. One to ten ! Lean, raw-boned rascals! who would e'er

suppose They had such courage and audacity ? Char. Let's leave this town; for they are

hare-brain'd slaves, And hunger will enforce them to be more

eager: Of old I know them; rather with their teeth The walls they'll tear down than forsake the siege.

40 Reig. I think, by some odd gimmors or

device Theirarms are set like clocks, still to strike on ; Else ne'er could they hold out so as they do. By my consent, we'll even let them alone. Alen. Be it so.

Enter the BASTARD of Orleans. BastWhere's the Prince Dauphin ? I

have news for him, Char. Bastard of Orleans, thrice welcome

to uis. Bast. Methinks your looks are sad, your

cheer appallid : Hath the late overthrow wrought this offence? Be not dismay'd, for succor is at hand : 50 A holy maid hither with me I bring, Which by a vision sent to her from heaven Ordained is to raise this tedious siege And drivo the English forth the bounds of

France. The spiri: of deep prophecy she hath, Exceeding the nine sibyls of old Rome : What's past and what's to come she can

descry. Speak. shall I call her in ? Believe my words,

For they are certain and unfallible. Char. Go call her in. (Exit Bastard] But first to try her skill,

60 Reignier, stand thou as Dauphin in my place: Question her proudly; let thy looks be stern: By this means shall we sound what skill she

hath. Re-enter the BASTARD of Orleans, with JOAN

LA PUCELLE. Reig. Fair maid, is't thou wilt do these

wondrous feats? Puc. Reignier, is't thou that thinkest to

beguile me? Where is the Dauphin? Come, come from

behind; I know thee well, though never seen before. Be not amazed, there's nothing lid from me : In private will I talk with thee apart. Stand back, you lords, and give us leave awhile.

70 Reig. She takes upon hier bravely at first

dash. Puc. Dauphin, I am by birthi a shepherd's

daughter, My wit untrain'd in any kind of art. Heaven and our Lady gracious hath it pleased To shine on my contemptible estate : Lo, whilst I waited on my tender lambs, And to sun's parching heat display'd my

cheeks, God's mother deigned to appear to me And in a vision full of majesty Will'd me to leave my base vocation 80 And free my country from calamity : Her aid she promised and assured success : In complete glory she reveal'd herself ; And, whereas I was black and swart before, With those clear rays which she infused on me That beauty am I bless'd with which you see. Ask me what question thou canst possible, And I will answer unpremeditated : My courage try by combat, if thou darest, And thou shalt find that I exceed my sex, 90 Resolve on this, thou shalt be fortunate, If thou receive me for thy warlike mate. Char. Thou hast astonish'd me with thy

high terms : Only this proof I'll of thy valor make, In single combat thou shalt buckle with me, And if thou vanquishest, thy words are true ; Otherwise I renounce all confidence. Puc. I am prepared : here is my keen-edged

sword, Deck'd with five flower-de-luces on each side ; The which at Touraine, in Saint Katharine's churchyard,

100 Out of a great deal of old iron I chose forth, Char. Then come, o' God's name ;I fear no

woman, Pue. And while I live, I'll ne'er fly from a

[Here they fight, and Joan La Pucelle Char Stay, stay thy hands I thou art an




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