Glo.
Lord bishop, set the crown upon his head.

Win.
God save king Henry, of that name the sixth!

Glo.
Now, governor of Paris, take your oath,—
That you elect no other king but him:
Esteem none friends, but such as are his friends;
And none your foes, but ^{7 note}such as shall pretend
Malicious practices against his state:
This shall ye do, so help you righteous God! Enter Sir John Fastolfe.

Fast.
My gracious sovereign, as I rode from Calais,
To haste unto your coronation,
A letter was deliver'd to my hands,
Writ to your grace from the duke of Burgundy.

Tal.
Shame to the duke of Burgundy, and thee!
I vow'd, base knight, when I did meet thee next,
To tear the garter from thy craven's leg, [plucking it off.
(Which I have done) because unworthily
Though wast installed in that high degree.—
Pardon me, princely Henry, and the rest:

This dastard, at the battle of Poictiers^{8 note},—
When but in all I was six thousand strong,
And that the French were almost ten to one,—
Before we met, or that a stroke was given,
Like to a trusty squire, did run away;
In which assault we lost twelve hundred men;
Myself, and divers gentlemen beside,
Were there surpriz'd, and taken prisoners.
Then judge, great lords, if I have done amiss;
Or whether that such cowards ought to wear
This ornament of knighthood, yea, or no.

Glo.
To say the truth, this fact was infamous,
And ill beseeming any common man;
Much more a knight, a captain, and a leader.

Tal.
When first this order was ordain'd, my lords,
Knights of the garter were of noble birth;
Valiant, and virtuous, full of ^{9 note}haughty courage,
Such as were grown to credit by the wars;
Not fearing death, nor shrinking for distress,
But always resolute in most extremes.
He then, that is not furnish'd in this sort,
Doth but usurp the sacred name of knight,
Profaning this most honourable order;
And should (if I were worthy to be judge)

Be quite degraded, like a hedge-born swain
That doth presume to boast of gentle blood.

K. Henry.
Stain to thy countrymen! thou hear'st thy doom:
Be packing therefore, thou that wast a knight;
Henceforth we banish thee, on pain of death.— [Exit Fastolfe.
And now, my lord protector, view the letter
Sent from our uncle duke of Burgundy.

Glo.
What means his grace, that he hath chang'd his stile?
No more but, plain and bluntly,—To the king? [Reading.
Hath he forgot, he is his sovereign?
Or doth this churlish superscription
Pretend some alteration in good will^{1 note}?
What's here?—I have, upon especial cause,— [Reads.
  Mov'd with compassion of my country's wreck,
  Together with the pitiful complaints
  Of such as your oppression feeds upon,—
  Forsaken your pernicious faction,
  And join'd with Charles, the rightful king of France.
O monstrous treachery! Can this be so;
That in alliance, amity, and oaths,
There should be found such false dissembling guile?

K. Henry.
What! doth my uncle Burgundy revolt?

Glo.
He doth, my lord; and is become your foe.

K. Henry.
Is that the worst, this letter doth contain?

Glo.
It is the worst, and all, my lord, he writes.

K. Henry.
Why then, lord Talbot there shall talk with him,
And give him chastisement for this abuse:—
My lord, how say you? are you not content?

Tal.
Content, my liege? Yes; but that I am prevented, 9Q0805

I should have begg'd I might have been employ'd.

K. Henry.
Then gather strength, and march unto him straight:
Let him perceive, how ill we brook his treason;
And what offence it is, to flout his friends.

Tal.
I go, my lord; in heart desiring still,
You may behold confusion of your foes. [Exit Tal. Enter Vernon, and Basset.

Ver.
Grant me the combat, gracious sovereign!

Bas.
And me, my lord, grant me the combat too!

York.
This is my servant; Hear him, noble prince!

Som.
And this is mine; Sweet Henry, favour him!

K. Henry.
Be patient, lords, and give them leave to speak.—
Say, gentlemen, What makes you thus exclaim?
And wherefore crave you combat? or with whom?

Ver.
With him, my lord; for he hath done me wrong.

Bas.
And I with him; for he hath done me wrong.

K. Henry.
What is that wrong whereof you both complain?
First let me know, and then I'll answer you.

Bas.
Crossing the sea from England into France,
This fellow here, with envious carping tongue,
Upbraided me about the rose I wear;
Saying—the sanguine colour of the leaves
Did represent my master's blushing cheeks,
When stubbornly he did repugn the truth^{2 note},
About a certain question in the law,
Argu'd betwixt the duke of York and him;
With other vile and ignominious terms:
In confutation of which rude reproach,
And in defence of my lord's worthiness,
I crave the benefit of law of arms.

Ver.
And that is my petition, noble lord:
For though he seem, with forged quaint conceit,
To set a gloss upon his bold intent,
Yet know, my lord, I was provok'd by him;
And he first took exceptions, at this badge,
Pronouncing—that the paleness of this flower
Bewray'd the faintness of my master's heart.

York.
Will not this malice, Somerset, be left?

Som.
Your private grudge, my lord of York, will out,
Though ne'er so cunningly you smother it.

K. Henry.
Good Lord! what madness rules in brain-sick men;
When, for so slight and frivolous a cause,
Such factious emulations shall arise!—
Good cousins both, of York and Somerset,
Quiet yourselves, I pray, and be at peace.

York.
Let this dissention first be try'd by fight,
And then your highness shall command a peace.

Som.
The quarrel toucheth none but us alone;
Betwixt ourselves let us decide it then.

York.
There is my pledge; accept it, Somerset.

Ver.
Nay, let it rest where it began at first.

Bas.
Confirm it so, mine honourable lord.

Glo.
Confirm it so? Confounded be your strife!
And perish ye, with your audacious prate!
Presumptuous vassals! are you not asham'd,
With this immodest clamorous outrage
To trouble and disturb the king and us?—
And you, my lords,—methinks, you do not well,
To bear with their perverse objections;
Much less, to take occasion from their mouths
To raise a mutiny betwixt yourselves;
Let me persuade you take a better course.

Exe.
It grieves his highness;—Good my lords, be friends.

K. Henry.
Come hither, you that would be combatants:

Henceforth, I charge you, as you love our favour,
Quite to forget this quarrel, and the cause.—
And you, my lords,—remember where we are;
In France, amongst a fickle wavering nation:
If they perceive dissention in our looks,
And that within ourselves we disagree,
How will their grudging stomachs be provok'd
To wilful disobedience, and rebel?
Beside, What infamy will there arise,
When foreign princes shall be certify'd,
That, for a toy, a thing of no regard,
King Henry's peers, and chief nobility,
Destroy'd themselves, and lost the realm of France?
O, think upon the conquest of my father,
My tender years; and let us not forego
That for a trifle, which was bought with blood!
Let me be umpire in this doubtful strife.
I see no reason, if I wear this rose, [Putting on a red rose.
That any one should therefore be suspicious
I more incline to Somerset, than York:
Both are my kinsmen, and I love them both:
As well they may upbraid me with my crown,
Because, forsooth, the king of Scots is crown'd.
But your discretions better can persuade,
Than I am able to instruct or teach:
And therefore, as we hither came in peace,
So let us still continue peace and love.—
Cousin of York, we institute your grace
To be our regent in these parts of France:—
And good my lord of Somerset, unite
Your troops of horsemen with his bands of foot;—
And, like true subjects, sons of your progenitors,
Go cheerfully together, and digest
Your angry choler on your enemies.
Ourself, my lord protector, and the rest,
After some respite, will return to Calais;
From thence to England; where I hope ere long

To be presented, by your victories,
With Charles, Alençon, and that traiterous rout. [Flourish. Exeunt. Manent York, Warwick, Exeter, and Vernon.

War.
My lord of York, I promise you, the king
Prettily, methought, did play the orator.

York.
And so he did; but yet I like it not,
In that he wears the badge of Somerset.

War.
Tush! that was but his fancy, blame him not;
I dare presume, sweet prince, he thought no harm.

York.
^{3 note}

Exe.
Well didst thou, Richard, to suppress thy voice:
For, had the passions of thy heart burst out,
I fear, we should have seen decypher'd there
More rancorous spight, more furious raging broils,
Than yet can be imagin'd or suppos'd.
But howsoe'er, no simple man that sees
This jarring discord of nobility,
This should'ring of each other in the court,
This factious bandying of their favourites,

But that he doth presage some ill event.
'Tis much, when scepters are in children's hands;
But more, when envy breeds unkind division;
There comes the ruin, there begins confusion. [Exit. SCENE II. Before the walls of Bourdeaux. Enter Talbot, with trumpets and drum.

Tal.
Go to the gates of Bourdeaux, trumpeter,
Summon their general unto the wall. [Sounds. Enter General aloft.
English John Talbot, captains, calls you forth,
Servant in arms to Harry king of England;
And thus he would,—Open your city gates,
Be humbled to us 9Q0806; call my sovereign yours,
And do him homage as obedient subjects,
And I'll withdraw me and my bloody power:
But, if you frown upon this proffer'd peace,
You tempt the fury of my three attendants,
Lean famine, quartering steel, and climbing fire;
Who, in a moment, even with the earth
Shall lay your stately and air-braving towers,
If you forsake ^{4 note}the offer of their love.

Gen.
Thou ominous and fearful owl of death,
Our nation's terror, and their bloody scourge!
The period of thy tyranny approacheth.
On us thou canst not enter, but by death:
For, I protest, we are well fortify'd,
And strong enough to issue out and fight:
If thou retire, the Dauphin, well appointed,
Stands with the snares of war to tangle thee:
On either hand thee there are squadrons pitch'd,

To wall thee from the liberty of flight;
And no way canst thou turn thee for redress,
But death doth front thee with apparent spoil,
And pale destruction meets thee in the face.
Ten thousand French have ta'en the sacrament,
^{5 note}