Guyenne, Compiegne, Rouen, Rheims, Orléans,

Paris, Gisors, Poitiers are all quite lost.

BEDFORD

What sayst thou, man, before dead Henry’s corpse?

Speak softly, or the loss of those great towns

Will make him burst his lead and rise from death.

GLOUCESTER (to the Messenger)

Is Paris lost? Is Rouen yielded up?

If Henry were recalled to life again,

These news would cause him once more yield the ghost.

EXETER (to the Messenger)

How were they lost? What treachery was used?

MESSENGER

No treachery, but want of men and money.

Amongst the soldiers this is mutterèd:

That here you maintain several factions,

And whilst a field should be dispatched 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 obtained.

Awake, awake, English nobility!

Let not sloth dim your honours new-begot.

Cropped are the flower-de-luces in your arms;

Of England’s coat, one half is cut away. ⌈Exit⌉

EXETER

Were our tears wanting to this funeral,

These tidings would call forth her 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!

⌈He removes his mourning robe

Wounds will I lend the French, instead of eyes,

To weep their intermissive miseries.

Enter to them another Messenger with letters

SECOND MESSENGER

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 crowned king in Rheims;

The Bastard of Orléans with him is joined;

René, Duke of Anjou, doth take his part;

The Duke of Alençon flyeth to his side. Exit

EXETER

The Dauphin crowned King? All fly to him?

O whither shall we fly from this reproach?

GLOUCESTER

We will not fly, but to our enemies’ throats.

Bedford, if thou be slack, I’ll fight it out.

BEDFORD

Gloucester, why doubt’st thou of my forwardness?

An army have I mustered in my thoughts,

Wherewith already France is overrun.

Enter another Messenger

THIRD MESSENGER

My gracious lords, to add to your laments,

Wherewith you now bedew King Henry’s hearse,

I must inform you of a dismal fight

Betwixt the stout Lord Talbot and the French.

WINCHESTER

What, wherein Talbot overcame—is’t so?

THIRD MESSENGER

O no, wherein Lord Talbot was o’erthrown.

The circumstance I’ll tell you more at large.

The tenth of August last, this dreadful lord,

Retiring from the siege of Orléans,

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—

Instead whereof, sharp stakes plucked out of hedges

They pitched in the ground confusedly,

To keep the horsemen off from breaking in.

More than three hours the fight continued,

Where valiant Talbot above human thought

Enacted wonders with his sword and lance.

Hundreds he sent to hell, and none durst stand him;

Here, there, and everywhere, enraged he slew.

The French exclaimed the devil was in arms:

All the whole army stood agazed on him.

His soldiers, spying his undaunted spirit,

‘A Talbot! A Talbot!’ cried out amain,

And rushed into the bowels of the battle.

Here had the conquest fully been sealed up,

If Sir John Fastolf had not played the coward.

He, being in the vanguard placed behind,

With purpose to relieve and follow them,

Cowardly fled, not having struck one stroke.

Hence grew the general wrack and massacre.

Enclosèd 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.

BEDFORD

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 betrayed.

THIRD MESSENGER

O no, he lives, but is took prisoner,

And Lord Scales with him, and Lord Hungerford;

Most of the rest slaughtered, or took likewise.

BEDFORD

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.

THIRD MESSENGER

So you had need. Fore Orléans, besieged,