Page 185 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1
P. 185
Prosper this realm, keep it from civil broils,
Combat with adverse planets in the heavens.
A far more glorious star thy soul will make [55]
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:
Guyenne, Compiègne, Rheims, Rouen, Orléans, [60]
Paris, Gisors, Poitiers, 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.
GLOUCEST ER
Is Paris lost? Is Rouen yielded up? [65]
If Henry were recalled to life again
These news would cause him once more yield the ghost.
EXET ER
How were they lost? What treachery was used?
MESSENGER
No treachery, but want of men and money.
Amongst the soldiers this is mutterèd: [70]
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, [75]
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: [80]
