The battles of the Lord of hosts he fought: Glo. 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. 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. 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 discomfiture: 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? These news would cause him once more yield the ghost. Mess. No treachery; but want of men and money. That here you maintain several factions; And whilst a field should be despatch'd and fought, One would have lingering wars with little cost; Exe. Were our tears wanting to this funeral, Bed. Me they concern; regent I am of France. - 2 Mess. Enter another Messenger. Lords, view these letters, full of bad mischance. France is revolted from the English quite, Except some petty towns of no import: The Dauphin, Charles, is crowned king in Rheims; Reignier, duke of Anjou, doth take his part; Exe. The Dauphin crowned king! all fly to him! O! whither shall we fly from this reproach? Glo. We will not fly, but to our enemies' throats. Bedford, if thou be slack, I'll fight it out. Bed. Gloster, why doubt'st thou of my forwardness? An army have I muster'd in my thoughts, Enter a third Messenger. 3 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? 3 Mess. O, no! wherein lord Talbot was o'erthrown: The circumstance I'll tell you more at large. The tenth of August last, this dreadful lord, Having full scarce six thousand in his troop, He wanted pikes to set before his archers; Instead whereof, sharp stakes, pluck'd out of hedges, To keep the horsemen off from breaking in. Enclosed were they with their enemies. A base Walloon, to win the Dauphin's grace, Whom all France, with their chief assembled strength, Bed. Is Talbot slain? then, I will slay myself, For living idly here in pomp and ease, 3 Mess. O, no! he lives; but is took prisoner, And lord Scales with him, and lord Hungerford: Most of the rest slaughter'd, or took, likewise. Bed. His ransom there is none but I shall pay. 3 Mess. So you had need; for Orleans is besieg’d. The English army is grown weak and faint; The earl of Salisbury craveth supply, And hardly keeps his men from mutiny, Since they, so few, watch such a multitude. Exe. Remember, lords, your oaths to Henry sworn, Either to quell the Dauphin utterly, Or bring him in obedience to your yoke. Bed. I do remember it; and here take my leave, To go about my preparation. [Exit. Glo. I'll to the Tower, with all the haste I can, To view th' artillery and munition; And then I will proclaim young Henry king. [Exit. Exe. 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. Eeach hath his place and function to attend: SCENE II. France. Before Orleans. [Exit. Flourish. Enter CHARLES, with his Forces; ALENÇON, Char. Mars his true moving, even as in the heavens, So in the earth, to this day is not known. Otherwhiles, the famish'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, And have their provender tied to their mouths, Or piteous they will look like drowned mice. Reig. Let's raise the siege. Why live we idly here? Remaineth none but mad-brain'd Salisbury, Char. Sound, sound alarum! we will rush on them. [Exeunt. Alarums; Excursions; afterwards a Retreat. |