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KING Henry VI.
Duke of Gloucefter, Uncle to the King, and Protector.
Duke of Exeter, Brother to King Henry IV.
Earl of Suffolk.
Young Talbot, his Son.
Richard Plantagenet, afterwards Duke of York.
Sir John Falftaff.
Woodvile, Lieutenant of the Tower.
Lord Mayor of London.
Vernon, of the White Rofe, or York Fallion.
Charles, Dauphin, and afterwards King of France.
Duke of Alanfon.
Baftard of Orleans.
An old Shepherd, Father to Joan la Pucelle.
Margaret, Daughter to Reignier, and afterwards Queen to K. Henry.
Joan la Pucelle, a Maid pretending to be infpir'd from
Lords, Captains, Soldiers, Meffengers, and feveral
The SCENE is partly in England, and partly in France.
1 Uncle likewife
The FIRST PART of
KING HENRY VI.
ACT I. SCENE I.
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 Exeter, and the Earl of Warwick, the Bishop of Winchefter and the Duke of Somerfet.
UNG be the heav'ns with black, yield day to
Comets, importing change of times and states,
That have confented unto Henry's death!
Henry the Fifth, too famous to live long!
His brandifh'd fword did blind men with its beams;
His fparkling eyes repleat with awful fire
Exe. We mourn in black, why mourn we not in blood? Henry is dead, and never fhall revive:
Upon a wooden coffin we attend;
So dreadful will not be as was his fight.
The battels of the Lord of hofts he fought;
The church's pray'rs made him fo profperous. [pray'd,
His thread of life had not fo foon decay'd.
Win. Glo'fter, whate'er we like, thou art Protector.
Glou. Name not religion, for thou lov'ft the flesh, And ne'er throughout the year to church thou go'st, Except it be to pray against thy foes.
Bed. Ceafe, ceafe thefe jars, and reft your minds in Let's to the altar: heralds, wait, on us;
Inftead of gold we'll offer up our arms,
Pofterity await for wretched years,
Since arms avail not now that Henry's dead.
When at their mothers moift eyes babes fhall fuck,
Our ifle be made a marish of falt tears,
Me My honourable Lords, health to you all!
[Coarfe? Bed. What say'st thou, man, before dead Henry's Speak foftly, or the lofs of thofe great town's Will make him burst his lead, and rife from death. Glow: Is Paris loft, and +'Orléans yielded up?
If Henry were recall'd to life again,
Thefe news would cause him once more yield the ghoft.
That here you maintain fev'ral factions;
One would have lingring wars with little coft
Let not floth dim your honours, new-begot;
3 Cæfar, or bright