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K. Hen. What is that wrong whereof you both complain?
First let me know, and then I'll answer you.
Bus. 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,
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,
Though ne'er so cunningly you smother it.
K. Hen. 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 dissension first be tried 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. Hen. 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 dissension 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 certified,
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,
(3) 'Tis strange, or wonderful.
My tender years; and let us not forego
That for a trifle, that 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 traitorous rout.
[Flourish. Exeunt King Henry, Glo. Som.
Win. Suf. and Basset.
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. And, if I wist, he did,-But let it rest; Other affairs must now be managed.
[Exeunt York, Warwick, and Vernon. Exe. Well didst thou, Richard, to suppress thy voice:
For, had the passions of thy heart burst out,
I fear, we should have seen decipher'd there
More rancorous spite, 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 it doth presage some ill event.
'Tis much,' when sceptres are in children's hands:
But more, when envy4 breeds unkind' division;
There comes the ruin, there begins confusion. [Ex.
SCENE II.-France. Before Bourdeaux. En-
ter Talbot, with his forces.
Summon their general unto the wall.
Tal. Go to the gates of Bourdeaux, trumpeter
Trumpet sounds a parley. Enter, on the walls
the General of the French forces, and others.
English John Talbot, captains, calls you forth,
Servant in arms to Harry king of England;
And thus he would,-Open your city gates,
Be humble to us; 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 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 fortified,
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
To rive their dangerous artillery
Upon no Christian soul but English Talbot.
Lo! there thou stand'st, a breathing valiant man,
Of an invincible unconquer'd spirit:
This is the latest glory of thy praise,
That I, thy enemy, due' thee withal;
For ere the glass, that now begins to run,
Finish the process of his sandy hour,
These eyes, that see thee now well coloured,
Shall see thee wither'd, bloody, pale, and dead.
[Drum afar off.
Hark! hark! the dauphin's drum, a warning bell,
Sings heavy music to thy timorous soul;
And mine shall ring thy dire departure out.
[Exeunt General, &c. from the walls.
Tal. He fables not, I hear the enemy ;-
Out, some light horsemen, and peruse their wings.
O, negligent and heedless discipline!
How are we park'd and bounded in a pale;
A little herd of England's timorous deer,
Maz'd with a yelping kennel of French curs!
If we be English deer, be then in blood;2
Not rascal-like,' to fall down with a pinch;
But rather moody-mad, and desperate stags,
Turn on the bloody hounds with heads of steel,
And make the cowards stand aloof at bay:
Sell every man his life as dear as mine,
And they shall find dear deer of us, my friends.-
God, and Saint George! Talbot, and England's
Prosper our colours in this dangerous fight! [Exe.
SCENE III.-Plains in Gascony. Enter York,
with forces; to him a Messenger.
York. Are not the speedy scouts return'd again,
That dogg'd the mighty army of the dauphin?
Mess. They are return'd, my lord; and give it out,
That he is march'd to Bourdeaux with his power,
To fight with Talbot: As he march'd along,
By your espials were discovered
Two mightier troops than that the dauphin led;
Which join'd with him, and made their march for
York. A plague upon that villain Somerset ;
That thus delays my promised supply
Of horsemen, that were levied for this siege !
Renowned Talbot doth expect my afd;
And I am lowted' by a traitor villain,
And cannot help the noble chevalier:
God comfort him in this necessity!
If he miscarry, farewell wars in France.
Enter Sir William Lucy.
Never so needful on the earth of France,
Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot;
Who now is girdled with a waist of iron,
And hemm'd about with grim destruction:
¡To Bourdeaux, warlike duke. to Bourdeaux, York!
Else, farewell Talbot, France, and England's
York. O God! that Somerset-who in proud heart
Doth stop my cornets-were in Talbot's place!
So should we save a valiant gentleman,
By forfeiting a traitor and a coward.
Mad ire, and wrathful fury, makes me weep,
That thus we die, while remiss traitors sleep.
Lucy. O, send some succour to the distress'd lord!
York. He dies, we lose; I break my warlike word:
We mourn, France smiles; we lose, they daily get;
All 'long of this vile traitor Somerset.
Lucy. Then, God take mercy on brave Talbot's soul!
And on his son, young John; whom, two hours
I met in travel toward his warlike father!
This seven years did not Talbot see his son;
And now they meet where both their lives are done.
York. Alas! what joy shall noble Talbot have,
To bid his young son welcome to his grave?
Away! vexation almost stops my breath,
That sunder'd friends greet in the hour of death.-
Lucy, farewell: no more my fortune can,
But curse the cause I cannot aid the man.—
Maine, Blois, Poictiers, and Tours, are won away,
'Long all of Somerset, and his delay.
Lucy. Thus, while the vulture" of sedition
Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders,
Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss
The conquest of our scarce-cold conqueror,
That ever-living man of memory,
Henry the Fifth:-Whiles they each other cross,
Lives, honours, lands, and all, hurry to loss. [Exit.
SCENE IV.-Other plains of Gascony. Enter
Somerset, with his forces; an Officer of Tal-
bot's with him.
Som. It is too late; I cannot send them now:
Too rashly plotted; all our general force
This expedition was by York, and Talbot,
Might with a sally of the very town
Be buckled with: the over-daring Talbot'
Hath sullied all his gloss of former honour,
By this unheedful, desperate, wild adventure:
York set him on to fight, and die in shame,
That, Talbot dead, great York might bear the name.
Offi. Here is sir William Lucy, who with me
Set from our o'er-match'd forces forth for aid.
Enter Sir William Lucy.
Som. How now, sir William? whither were you
Lucy. Whither, my lord? from bought and sold
Who, ring'd about with bold adversity,
Cries out for noble York and Somerset,
To beat assailing death from his weak legions,
And whiles the honourable captain there
Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied imbs,
And, in advantage ling'ring, looks for rescue,
Lucy. Thou princely leader of our English You, his false hopes, the trust of England's honour, strength,
Keep off aloof with worthless emulation.
Let not your private discord keep away
(7) Alluding to the tale of Prometheus.
(8) i. e. From one utterly ruined by the treache
rous practices of others.
Swearing that you withhold his levied host,
Collected for this expedition.
Som. York lies; he might have sent and had the My age was never tainted with such shame.
I owe him little duty, and less love:
And take foul scorn, to fawn on him by sending.
Lucy. The fraud of England, not the force of
Hath now entrapp'd the noble-minded Talbot:
Never to England shall he bear his life;
But dies, betray'd to fortune by your strife.
Som. Come, go; I will despatch the horsemen
Within six hours they will be at his aid.
Lucy. Too late comes rescue; he is ta'en or slain:
For fly he could not, if he would have fled;
And fly would Talbot never, though he might.
Som. If he be dead, brave Talbot then adieu!
Lucy. His fame lives in the world, his shame in
SCENE V.-The English camp, near Bourdeaux.
Enter Talbot and John his son.
Tal. O young John Talbot! I did send for thee,
To tutor thee in stratagems of war;
That Talbot's name might be in thee reviv'd,
When sapless age, and weak unable limbs,
Should bring thy father to his drooping chair.
But,-O malignant and ill-boding stars!
Now thou art come unto a feast of death,1
A terrible and unavoided danger:
Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest horse;
And I'll direct thee how thou shalt escape
By sudden flight: come, dally not, begone.
John. And shall my youth be guilty of such blame?
No more can I be sever'd from your side,
Than can yourself yourself in twain divide:
Stay, go, do what you will, the like do I ;
For live I will not, if my father die.
Tal. Then here I take my leave of thee, fair son,
Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon.
Come, side by side together live and die;
And soul with soul from France to heaven fly.
SCENE VI.-A field of battle. Alarum: Ex-
cursions, wherein Talbot's Son is hemmed aboul,
and Talbot rescues him.
Tal. Saint George and victory! fight, soldiers,
The regent hath with Talbot broke his word,
And left us to the rage of France's sword.
Where is John Talbot?-pause, and take thy breath;
gave thee life, and rescued thee from death.
John. O twice my father! twice am I thy son:
The life thou gav'st me first, was lost and done;
Till with thy warlike sword, despite of fate,
To my determin'd' time thou gav'st new date.
Tal. When from the dauphin's crest thy sword
It warm'd thy father's heart with proud desire
Of bold-fac'd victory. Then leaden age,
Quicken'd with youthful spleen, and warlike rage,
Beat down Alençon, Orleans, Burgundy,
And from the pride of Gallia rescu'd thee.
John. Is my name Talbot? and am I your son? The ireful bastard Orleans-that drew blood
And shall I fly? O, if you love my mother,
Dishonour not her honourable name,
To make a bastard, and a slave of me:
The world will say-He is not Talbot's blood,
That basely fled, when noble Talbot stood.
Tal. Fly, to revenge my death, if I be slain.
John. He, that flies so, will ne'er return again.
Tal. If we both stay, we both are sure to die.
John. Then let me stay; and, father, do you fly:
Your loss is great, so your regard' should be;
My worth unknown, no loss is known in me."
Upon my death the French can little boast;
In yours they will, in you all hopes are lost.
Flight cannot stain the honour you have won;
But mine it will, that no exploit have done :
You fled for vantage, every one will swear;
But, if I bow, they'll say it was for fear.
There is no hope that ever I will stay,
If, the first hour, I shrink, and run away.
Here, on my knee, I beg mortality,
Rather than life preserv'd with infamy.
Tal. Shall all thy mother's hopes lie in one tomb?
John. Ay, rather than I'll shame my mother's
Tal. Upon my blessing I command thee go.
John. To fight I will, but not to fly the foe.
(1) To a field where death will be feasted with slaughter.
From thee, my boy; and had the maidenhood
Of thy first fight-I soon encountered;
And, interchanging blows, I quickly shed
Some of his bastard-blood; and, in disgrace,
Bespoke him thus: Contaminated, base,
And misbegotten blood I spill of thine,
Mean and right poor; for that pure blood of mine,
Which thou didst force from Talbot, my brave
Here, purposing the Bastard to destroy,
Came in strong rescue. Speak, thy father's care;
Art not thou weary, John? How dost thou fare?
Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly,
Now thou art seal'd the son of chivalry?
Fly, to revenge my death, when I am dead;
The help of one stands me in little stead.
O, too much folly is it, well I wot,
To hazard all our lives in one small boat.
If I to-day die not with Frenchmen's rage,
To-morrow I shall die with mickle age:
By me they nothing gain, an if I stay,
'Tis but the short'ning of my life one day:
In thee thy mother dies, our household's name,
My death's revenge, thy youth and England's fame:
All these, and more, we hazard by thy stay;
All these are sav'd, if thou wilt fly away.
John. The sword of Orleans hath not made me | Thou maiden youth, be vanquish'd by a maid:
These words of yours draw life-blood from my heart:
On that advantage, bought with such a shame
(To save a paltry life, and slay bright fame,)
Before young Taluot from old Talbot fly,
The coward horse, that bears me, fall and die :
And like' me to the peasant boys of France;
To be shame's scorn, and subject of mischance!
Surely, by all the glory you have won,
An if I fly, I am not Talbot's son:
Then talk no more of flight, it is no boot:
If son to Talbot, die at Talbot's foot.
Tal. Then follow thou thy desperate sire of Crete,
Thou Icarus; thy life to me is sweet:
If thou wilt fight, fight by thy father's side;
And, commendable prov'd, let's die in pride.
[Exeunt. SCENE VII-Another part of the same.. Alarum: Excursions. Enter Talbot wounded, supported by a Servant.
Tel. Where is my other life?-mine own is gone :
But-with a proud, majestical high scorn,-
He answered thus; Young Talbot was not born
To be the pillage of a giglot wench:
So, rushing in the bowels of the French,
He left me proudly, as unworthy fight.
Bur. Doubtless he would have made a noble
See, where he lies inhersed in the arms
Of the most bloody nurser of his harms.
Bast. Hew them to pieces, hack their bones
Whose life was England's glory, Gallia's wonder.
Char. O, no; forbear: for that which we have fled
During the life, let us not wrong it dead.
Enter Sir William Lucy, attended; a French
Who hath obtain'd the glory of the day.
Conduct me to the dauphin's tent; to know
Char. On what submissive message art thou sent?
Lucy. Submission, dauphin? 'tis a mere French
English warriors wot not what it means.
I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta'en,
And to survey the bodies of the dead,
Char. For prisoners ask'st thou ? hell our prison is.
But tell me whom thou seek'st.
Lucy. Where is the great Alcides of the field, Valiant lord Talbot, earl of Shrewsbury; Created, for his rare success in arms,
O, where's young Talbot? where is valiant John?-We
Triumphant death, smear'd with captivity !2
Young Talbot's valour makes me smile at thee:-
When he perceiv'd me shrink, and on my knee,
His bloody sword he brandish'd over me,
And, like a hungry lion, did commence
Rough deeds of rage, and stern impatience;
But when my angry guardant stood alone,
Tend'ring my ruin, and assail'd of none,
Dizzy-ey'd fury, and great rage of heart,
-Suddenly made him from my side to start
Into the clust'ring battle of the French:
And in that sea of blood my boy did drench
His overmounting spirit; and there died
My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride.
Enter Soldiers, bearing the body of John Talbot.
Serv. O my dear lord! lo, where your son is
Tal. Thou antic death, which laugh'st us here
Anon, from thy insulting tyranny,
Coupled in bonds of perpetuity,
Two Talbots, winged through the lither sky,
In thy despite, shall 'scape mortality.-
O thou, whose wounds become hard-favour'd death,
Speak to thy father, ere thou yield thy breath:
Brave death by speaking, whether he will, or no;
Imagine him a Frenchman, and thy foe.-
Poor boy! he smiles, methinks; as who should say
Had death been French, then death had died to-day.
Come, come, and lay him in his father's arms;
My spirit can no longer bear these harms.
Soldiers, adieu! I have what I would have,
Now my old arms are young John Talbot's grave.
Alarums. Exeunt Soldiers and Servant, leaving
the two bodies. Enter Charles, Alençon, Bur-
gundy, Bastard, La Pucelle, and forces.
Char. Had York and Somerset brought rescue in,
We should have found a bloody day of this.
Bast. How the young whelp of Talbot's, raging-
Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood!
Puc. Once I encounter'd him, and thus I said,
(1) Liken me, reduce me to a level with.
(2) Death stained and dishonoured with captivity.
(3) Watching me with tenderness in my fall."
Great earl of Washford, Waterford, and Valence;
Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield,
Lord Strange of Blackmere, lord Verdun of Alton,
Lord Cromwell of Wingfield, lord Furnival of
The thrice victorious lord of Falconbridge;
Knight of the noble order of Saint George,
Worthy Saint Michael, and the golden fleece;
Great mareshal to Henry the Sixth,
Of all his wars within the realm of France?
Puc. Here is a silly stately style indeed!
The Turk, that two and fifty kingdoms hath,
Writes not so tedious a style as this.-
Him, that thou magnifiest with all these titles,
Stinking, and fly-blown, lies here at our feet.
Lucy. Is Talbot slain; the Frenchmen's only
Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis?
O, were mine eye-balls into bullets turn'd,
That I, in rage, might shoot them at your faces!
O, that I could but call these dead to life!
It were enough to fright the realm of France:
Were but his picture left among you here,
It would amaze the proudest of you all.
Give me their bodies; that I may bear them hence,
And give them burial as beseems their worth.
Puc. I think, this upstart is old Talbot's ghost,
He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit.
They would but stink, and putrefy the air.
For God's sake, let him have 'em; to keep them here,
Char. Go, take their bodies hence.
I'll bear them hence:
But from their ashes shall be rear'd
A phoenix that shall make all France afeard.
Char. So we be rid of them, do with 'em what
And now to Paris, in this conquering vein;
All will be ours, now bloody Talbot's slain. [Exe.
SCENE I.-London. A room in the palace. Enter King Henry, Gloster, and Exeter.
K. Hen. Have you perus'd the letters from the
The emperor, and the earl of Armagnac ?
Glo. I have, my lord; and their intent is this,They humbly sue unto your excellence, To have a godly peace concluded of, Between the realms of England and of France. K. Hen. How doth your grace affect their motion?
Glo. Well, my good lord; and as the only means To stop effusion of our Christian blood, And 'stablish quietness on every side.
K. Hen. Ay, marry, uncle, for I always thought, It was both impious and unnatural, That such immanity1 and bloody strife Should reign among professors of one faith.
Glos. Beside, my lord,-the sooner to effect,
And surer bind, this knot of amity,-
The earl of Armagnac-near knit to Charles,
A man of great authority in France,-
Proffers his only daughter to your grace
In marriage, with a large and sumptuous dowry.
K. Hen. Marriage, uncle! alas! my years are
And fitter is my study and my books,
Than wanton dalliance with a paramour.
Yet, call the ambassadors: and, as you please,
So let them have their answers every one;
I shall be well content with any choice,
Tends to God's glory, and my country's weal.
Enter a Legate, and two ambassadors, with Win-
chester, in a cardinal's habit.
Exe. What is my lord of Winchester install'd,
And call'd unto a cardinal's degree?
Then, I perceive, that will be verified,
Henry the Fifth did sometime prophesy,
If once he come to be a cardinal,
He'll make his cap co-equal with the crown.
Humphrey of Gloster, thou shalt well perceive,
The bishop will be overborne by thee:
That, neither in birth, or for authority,
I'll either make thee stoop, and bend thy knee,
Or sack this country with a mutiny. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.-France. Plains in Anjou. Enter
Charles, Burgundy, Alençon, La Pucelle, and
Char. These news, my lords, may cheer our drooping spirits:
'Tis said, the stout Parisians do revolt,
And turn again unto the warlike French.
Alen. Then march to Paris, royal Charles of
And keep not back your powers in dalliance.
Puc. Peace be amongst them, if they turn to us;
Else, ruin combat with their palaces!
Mess. Success unto our valiant general,
And happiness to his accomplices!
Char. What tidings send our scouts ? I pr'ythee,
Mess. The English army, that divided was
Into two parts, is now conjoin'd in one;
And means to give you battle presently.
Char. 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 world repine.
Char. Then on, my lords; and France be for[Exeunt.
SCENE III.-The same.
Before Angiers. Alarums: Excursions. Enter La Pucelle.
Puc. The regent conquers, and the Frenchmen
Now help, ye charming spells, and periapts;2
And ye choice spirits that admonish me,
K. Hen. My lords ambassadors, your several suits And give me signs of future accidents!
Have been consider'd and debated on.
Your purpose is both good and reasonable:
And, therefore, are we certainly resolv'd
To draw conditions of a friendly peace;
Which, by my lord of Winchester, we mean
Shall be transported presently to France.
Glo. And for the proffer of my lord your
I have informed his highness so at large,
As-liking of the lady's virtuous gifts,
Her beauty, and the value of her dower,-
He doth intend she shall be England's queen.
K. Hen. In argument and proof of which con-
You speedy helpers, that are substitutes
Under the lordly monarch of the north,3
Appear, and aid me in this enterprise !
master,-This speedy quick appearance argues proof
Of your accustom'd diligence to me.
Now, ye familiar spirits, that are cull'd
Out of the powerful regions under earth,
Help me this once, that France may get the field.
[They walk about, and speak not.
O, hold me not with silence over-long!
Where I was wont to feed you with my blood,
I'll lop a member off, and give it you,
In earnest of a further benefit;
So you do condescend to help me now.-
Bear her this jewel, [To the Amb.] pledge of my affection.
And so, my lord protector, see them guarded,
And safely brought to Dover; where, inshipp'd,
Commit them to the fortune of the sea.
[Exeunt King Henry and train; Gloster,
Exeter, and Ambassadors.
Win. Stay, my lord legate; you shall first receive
The sum of money, which I promised
Should be deliver'd to his holiness
For clothing me in these grave ornaments.
Leg. I will attend upon your lordship's leisure. Win. Now, Winchester will not submit, I trow, Or be inferior to the proudest peer.
(1) Barbarity, savageness.
(2) Charms sewed up.
No hope to have redress?-My body shall
[They hang their heads.
Pay recompense, if you will grant my suit.
[They shake their heads,
Cannot my body, nor blood-sacrifice,
Entreat you to your wonted furtherance?
Then take my soul; my body, soul, and ali,
Before that England give the French the foil.
[They depart. See! they forsake me. Now the time is come,
(3) The north was supposed to be the particular habitation of bad spirits.