true; but for thy love, no; yet I love thee too. And while thou livest, dear Kate, take a fellow of plain and uncoined constancy; for he perforce must do thee right, because he hath not the gift to woo in other places: for these fellows of infinite tongue, that can rhyme themselves into ladies' favours,-they do always reason themselves out again. What! a speaker is but a prater: a rhyme is but a ballad. A good leg will fall; a straight back will stoop; a black beard will turn white; a curled pate will grow bald; a fair face will wither; a full eye will wax hollow but a good heart, Kate, is the sun and moon; or, rather, the sun, and not the moon; for it shines bright, and never changes, but keeps his course truly. If thou would have such a one, take me: And take me, take a soldier; take a soldier, take a king: And what sayest thou then to my love? speak, my fair, and fairly, I pray thee. [of France? Kath. Is it possible dat I should love de enemy K. Hen. No; it is not possible you should love the enemy of France, Kate; but, in loving me, you should love the friend of France; for I love France so well, that I will not part with a village of it; I will have it all mine: and, Kate, when France is mine, and I am yours, then yours is France, and you are mine.

Kath. I cannot tell vat is dat.

K. Hen. No, Kate? I will tell thee in French; which, I am sure, will hang upon my tongue like a new-married wife about her husband's neck, hardly to be shook off. Quand j'ay la possession de France, et quand vous avez la possession de moi, (let me see, what then? Saint Dennis be my speed!)-donc vostre est France, et vous estes mienne. It is as easy for me, Kate, to conquer the kingdom, as to speak so much more French: I shall never move thee in French, unless it be to laugh at me.

Kath. Sauf vostre honneur, le François que vous parlez est meilleur que l'Anglois lequel je parle.

K. Hen. No, 'faith, is 't not, Kate: but thy speaking of my tongue, and I thine, most truly falsely, must needs be granted to be much at one. But, Kate, dost thou understand thus much English? Canst thou love me?

Kath. I cannot tell.

K. Hen. Can any of your neighbours tell, Kate? I'll ask them. Come, I know, thou lovest me and at night when you come into your closet, you'll question this gentlewoman about me; and I know, Kate, you will, to her, dispraise those parts in me that you love with your heart: but, good Kate, mock me mercifully; the rather, gentle princess, because I love thee cruelly. How answer you, la plus belle Katharine du monde, mon très chere et divine déesse ?

Kath. Your majesté 'ave fausse French enough to deceive de most sage damoiselle dat is en France.

K. Hen. Now, fye upon my false French! By mine honour, in true English, I love thee, Kate: by which honour I dare not swear thou lovest me: yet my blood begins to flatter me that thou dost, notwithstanding the poor and untempering effect of my visage. Now beshrew my father's ambition! he was always thinking of civil wars; therefore was I created with a stubborn outside, with an aspect of iron, that, when I come to

He means, resembling a plain piece of metal, which has not yet received any impression. + Fall away. ‡ Slight barrier. Temper.

woo ladies, I fright them. But, in faith, Kate, the elder I wax, the better I shall appear: my comfort is, that old age, that ill layer up of beauty, can do no more spoil upon my face: thou hast me, if thou hast me, at the worst; and thou shalt wear me, if thou wear me, better and better; and therefore tell me, most fair Katharine, will you have me? Put off your maiden blushes; avouch the thoughts of your heart with the looks of an empress; take me by the hand, and say-Harry of England, I am thine: which word thou shalt no sooner bless mine ear withal, but I will tell thee aloud England is thine, Ireland is thine, France is thine, and Henry Plantagenet is thine; who, though I speak it before his face, if he be not fellow with the best king, thou shalt find the best king of good fellows. Come, your answer in broken music; for thy voice is music, and thy English broken; therefore, queen of all, Katharine, break thy mind to me in broken English: Wilt thou have me? [père.

Kath. Dat is as it shall please de roy mon K. Hen. Nay, it will please him well, Kate ; it shall please him, Kate.

Kath. Den it shall also content me. K. Hen. Upon that I will kiss your hand, and I call you-my queen.

Kath. Laissez, mon seigneur, laissez, laissez : ma foy, je ne veux point que vous abbaissez vostre grandeur, en baisant la main d'une vostre indigne serviteure; excusez moy, je vous supplie, mon très puissant seigneur.

K. Hen. Then I will kiss your lips, Kate. Kath. Les dames et damoiselles, pour estre baisées devant leur nopces, il n'est pas la coútume de France. [she?

K. Hen. Madam my interpreter, what says Alice. Dat it is not be de fashion pour les ladies of France,-I cannot tell what is baiser en English.

K. Hen. To kiss.

Alice. Your majesty entendre bettre que moy. K. Hen. It is not the fashion for the maids in France to kiss before they are married, would she say?

Alice. Ouy, vrayment.

K. Hen. O, Kate, nice customs curt'sy to great kings. Dear Kate, you and I cannot be confined within the weak list of a country's fashion: we are the makers of manners, Kate; and the liberty that follows our places, stops the mouths of all find-faults; as I will do yours, for upholding the nice fashion of your country, in denying me a kiss: therefore, patiently, and yielding. [Kissing her.] You have witchcraft in your lips, Kate: there is more eloquence in a sugar touch of them, than in the tongues of the French council; and they should sooner persuade Harry of England, than a general petition of monarchs. Here comes your father. Enter the French King and Queen, BURGUNDY, BEDFORD, GLOSTER, EXETER, WESTMORELAND, and other French and English Lords.

Bur. God save your majesty! my royal cousin, teach you our princess English?

K. Hen. I would have her learn, my fair cousin, how perfectly I love her; and that is good Bur. Is she not apt? [English.

K. Hen. Our tongue is rough, coz; and my condition? is not smooth: so that, having neither the voice nor the heart of flattery about me, I cannot so conjure up the spirit of love in her, that he will appear in his true likeness. Shall Kate be my wife!

his tenderness as a father, the great interest of his character depends. The scene between him and the Countess of Auvergne is an admirable episode, full of life and vigour, and written by the pen of genius. If, according to the conjecture of Mr. Malone, either Greene or Peele was the author of this play, it is to be regretted that they have not left more such scenes for the admiration of posterity. The generosity of Talbot to the crafty but outwitted French woman, is the result of a noble spirit; a meaner general would probably have razed her castle to its foundations, or left it in flames, as a punishment for her perfidious abuse of the sacred laws of hospitality.

The brave Talbot is at last sacrificed, through the dissensions and treachery of York and Somerset: each blames the other for neglect, but stands aloof himself. The intrepid general is surrounded, without the walls of Bordeaux, by forces immeasurably superior to his own; and, after performing prodigies of valour, is slain. Just before his death, he has an interview with his son, whom, after an absence of seven years, he had sent for, to tutor in the strategies of war. The meeting is a melancholy one: certain death awaits them both, unless avoided by flight. The ⚫ elder Talbot, grown grey in peril and in honour, counsels his son to escape, but will himself remain to meet his fate. The young hero will not stir from the side of his father, who eventually dies with the dead body of his son in his arms.

In the scene in the Temple Garden, the great Earl of Warwick is introduced-that Warwick, whose after-achievements gained for him the title of the "King-maker;" and although he does not appear so prominently in this play as in the two following ones, yet here we have the germs of his future character, and a very spirited and Shakespearian speech is uttered by him. In this scene we have detailed the supposed origin of the two badges, the white rose and the red, afterwards worn by the rival houses of York and Lancaster.

The character of Joan la Pucelle, though it has not the finish of Shakespeare's later works, yet partakes of their strength. It is only to be regretted that he has attributed to satanic agency what was doubtless the result of pure patriotism and vivid religious enthusiasm; but the era of the poet was one of intense and obstinate superstition, when to express a disbelief in witchcraft, was frequently deemed an act of impiety; and it is not to be expected that, in his youth, he should be emancipated from the errors of his time. But this unjust picture has given Schlegel occasion to say, that "the wonderful saviour of her country, Joan of Arc, is portrayed by Shakespeare with an Englishman's prejudices." History has since done justice to her memory, and time hath found the solution of her supposed miraculous influence. The inhabitants of the little hamlet where she was born, were remarkable for their simplicity and their superstition; and the poor peasant girl, whom a pious education had ripened B

into a religious enthusiast, was led, while tending her flocks in solitude among the hills and pastures of a wild and picturesque country, to occupy herself with day-dreams concerning the ascetic and miraculous lives of the saints, and the wonderful heroism of the virgin martyrs. This sort of life led to its natural result in a fervent and susceptible mind; after a short time she was haunted by visions, and listened in ecstasy to the voices of spirits; angelic faces appeared to her surrounded by a halo of light and glory: amongst them were St. Catherine and St. Margaret, wearing crowns which glittered with celestial jewels; and these heavenly visitants spoke to her in voices which were sweeter than the softest music. They commanded her to deliver her country, and told her that she would be endowed with strength from heaven. The devoted enthusiast went to the king, declared her mission, liberated France, and was finally, with a cruelty at which humanity recoils, burnt at the stake for sorcery. It is to be wished that Shakespeare had taken a more lofty and generous view of her character. The family of this unhappy woman was ennobled by the monarch to whom she had rendered such important services; but he made no effort whatever to rescue her from the hands of the English.

Viewed historically, there are some slight apologies to be made for the conduct of York in attempting to supplant Henry on the throne; but in the drama he stands convicted of compli cated treachery and constant perjury. The feeble but generous king restores him to his rank and estates, which had been forfeited by the treason of his father, who was beheaded for a plot to assassinate Henry the Fifth. He promises eternal gratitude and allegiance; exclaiming"And so thrive Richard as thy foes may fall! And as my duty springs, so perish they That grudge one thought against your majesty!"

Yet this very man, perceiving the imbecility of Henry, casts an evil eye unto the crown; and eventually, he and his sons, after shedding the blood of nearly a hundred thousand Englishmen, exterminate the House of Lancaster, and place the sensual, perjured Edward upon the throne.

In the early part of the play, the young king does not appear; and when he does, it is only to make a miserable exhibition of his weakness and vacillation of mind; for, although contracted to another lady, he falls in love with Margaret merely from Suffolk's description of her personal charms, and thus becomes the dupe of that cunning courtier, who loves her himself. The play ends abruptly with Henry's dispatching Suffolk to France, to woo Margaret for him; and the wily emissary speeds on his mission, rejoicing in the probable success of his treachery. The date of this drama cannot be fixed with any degree of certainty: but it was, probably, one of the poet's earliest efforts.

27

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
You are disputing of your generals. [fought,
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, These tidings would call forth her 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 I will lend the French, instead of eyes, To weep their intermissive miseries.*

Enter another Messenger.

2 Mess. 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 crown'd king in Rheims,
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. [him!
Exe. The Dauphin crowned king! all fly to
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 for-
wardness?

An army have I muster'd in my thoughts,
Wherewith already France is over-run.

Enter a third Messenger.

3 Mess. My gracious lords,-to add to your laments, [hearse,Wherewith you now bedew King Henry's I must inform you of a dismal fight, Betwixt the stout Lord Talbot and the French. Win. What! wherein Talbot overcame? is't so? [o'erthrown: 3 Mess. O, no; wherein Lord Talbot was The circumstance I'll tell you more at large. The tenth of August last, this dreadful lord, Retiring from the siege of Orleans, Having full scarce six thousand in his troop, By three-and-twenty thousand of the French Was round encompassed and set upon :

No leisure had he to enrank his men;
He wanted pikes to set before his archers;

His soldiers, spying his undaunted spirit,
A Talbot! a Talbot! cried out 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;
He being in the vaward, (plac'd behind,
With purpose to relieve and follow them,)
Cowardly fled, not having struck one stroke.
Hence grew the general wreck and massacre;
Enclosed were they with their enemies :
A base Walloon, to win the Dauphin's grace,
Thrust Talbot with a spear into the back;
Whom all France, with their chief assembled
strength,

Durst not presume to look once in the face.

Bed. Is Talbot slain? then I will slay myself, For living idly here, in pomp and ease, Whilst such a worthy leader, wanting aid, Unto his dastard foemen is betray'd.

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 : I'll hale the Dauphin headlong from his throne, 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 forthwith 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. [besieg'd;

3 Mess. So you had need; for Orleans is 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 Either to quell the Dauphin utterly, [sworn; Or bring him in obedience to your yoke.

Bed. I do remember it; and here take leave, To go about my preparation. [Exit.

Glo. 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.

[Exit. [is,

Exe. To Eltham will I, where the young king Being ordain'd his special governor; And for his safety there I'll best devise. [Exit. Win. Each hath his place and function to atI am left out; for me nothing remains. [tend: 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.

[Exit.

SCENE II.-France. Before Orleans. Enter CHARLES, with his Forces; ALENCON, REIGNIER, and Others.

Char. Mars his true moving, even as in the heavens,

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; [ghosts,
Otherwhiles, the famish'd English, like pale
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

Remaineth none but mad-brain'd Salisbury;