Cha.
These news, my lords, may chear our droop ^note-spirits:
'Tis said, the stout Parisians do revolt,
And turn ^note again unto the warlike French.

Ale.
Then march to Paris, royal Charles of France,
And keep not back your powers ^note in dalliance.

Puc.
Peace be amongst them, if they turn to us;
Else, ruin combat with their palaces! Enter a Messenger.

Mes.
Success unto our valiant general,
And happiness to his accomplices!

Cha.
What tidings send our scouts? I pr'ythee, speak.

Mes.
The English army, that divided was
Into two parts ^note, is now conjoin'd in one;
And means to give you battle presently.

Cha.
Somewhat too sudden, sirs, the warning is;
But we will presently provide for them.

Bur.
I trust, the ghost of Talbot is not there;
Now he is gone, my lord, you need not fear.

Puc.
Of all base passions, fear is most accurs'd:—
Command the conquest, Charles, it shall be thine;

Let Henry fret, and all the word repine.

Cha.
Then on, my lords; And France be fortunate! [Exeunt, marching.

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