King Henry VI, Part 1 | Page 3

ALENCON
BASTARD OF
ORLEANS
GOVERNOR OF PARIS
MASTER-GUNNER OF
ORLEANS, and his SON
GENERAL OF THE FRENCH FORCES
in Bordeaux
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
Lords, Warders of the Tower, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, Messengers,
English and French Attendants. Fiends appearing to La Pucelle
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SCENE:
England and France
The First Part of King Henry the Sixth
ACT I. SCENE 1.
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 EXETER,
the
EARL OF WARWICK, the BISHOP OF WINCHESTER
BEDFORD. 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.

GLOUCESTER. 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;
His arms spread wider than a dragon's wings;
His
sparkling eyes, replete with wrathful fire,
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.
EXETER. We mourn in black; why mourn we
not in blood?
Henry is dead and never shall revive.
Upon a wooden
coffin we attend;
And death's 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 him,
By magic verses have

contriv'd his end?
WINCHESTER. He was a king bless'd of the King
of kings;
Unto the French the dreadful judgment-day
So dreadful
will not be as was his sight.
The battles of the Lord of Hosts he
fought;
The Church's prayers made him so prosperous.

GLOUCESTER. 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 overawe.

WINCHESTER. 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 religious churchmen may.

GLOUCESTER. 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.
BEDFORD. 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'ned 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 Caesar or bright
Enter a MESSENGER
MESSENGER. My honourable lords, health to you all!
Sad tidings
bring I to you out of France,
Of loss, of slaughter, and discomfiture:

Guienne, Champagne, Rheims, Orleans,
Paris, Guysors, Poictiers,
are all quite lost.
BEDFORD. 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.
GLOUCESTER. 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.
EXETER.
How were they lost? What treachery was us'd?
MESSENGER. No

treachery, but want of men and money.
Amongst the soldiers this is
muttered
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 ling'ring 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 honours, new-begot.

Cropp'd are the flower-de-luces in your arms;
Of England's coat one
half is cut away.
EXETER. Were our tears wanting to this funeral,

These tidings would call forth their flowing tides.
BEDFORD. 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 eyes,
To weep their
intermissive miseries.
Enter a second MESSENGER
SECOND MESSENGER. Lords, view these letters full of bad

mischance.
France is revolted from