THE HISTORY OF Henry the Fifth. AND THE TRAGEDY OF MUSTAPHA, Son of SOLYMAN the Magnificent. As they were Acted at his Highness the Duke of York's THEATER.  
Written by The Right Honourable the Earl of ORRERY.  
LONDON, Printed for H. Herringman, at the Sign of the Blue Anchor in the Lower Walk of the New Exchange. 1668.   

The Persons.  
King Henry the Fifth. 
Mr. Harris.  Duke of Bedford, his Brother. 
Mr. underhill.  Duke of Exeter, his Uncle. 
Mr. Cogan.  Earl of Warwick. 
Mr. Aingel.  Bishop of Canterbury. 
Mr. Lylinston.  Owen Tudor the King's Favourite. 
Mr. Betterton.  The Dauphin. 
Mr. Young.  Duke of Burgundy. 
Mr. Smith.  Earl of Chareloys, his Son. 
Mr. Cadiman.  Constable of France. 
Mr. james Noke  De Chastel, the Dauphin's Creature. 
Mr. Norris.  Bishop of Arras. 
Mr. Samford.  Count of Blamount. 
Mr. Medborne.  Monsieur Colemore. 
Mr. Floyd:  Queen of France. 
Mrs. Long.  Princess Katherine, her Daughter. 
Mrs. Betterton.  Princess Anne of Burgundy. 
Mrs. Davis.  The Countess of La Marr. 
Mrs. Norris.  French Ladies. 
 Heralds. 
 Guards. 
   

Henry the Fifth.  
THE FIRST ACT.  Enter King Henry the 5th, the Duke of Exeter, the Duke of Bedford, and Owen Tudor, with their Attendants. King. 
THis is the day in which our Valour must  
Prove to the French, our claim to France is just;  
Since 'twill no other way be understood,  
It must be writ in Characters of blood.  
By injuries they us to Battle call;  
Denying us our part, they forfeit all:  
'Tis fit in number they should us exceed;  
That odds the French against the English need;  
That odds which both obliges them and me,  
Brings them to Fight, and us to Victory.  Exeter. 
Heaven left us purposely but few for fight,  
To show the world, by your success, your right.  Bedford. 
They seem t'acknowledge Heaven is not their Friend,  
Since on their boasted numbers they depend;  
Which when their cause is reckoned, we should prize,  
As Heaven accounts them, for a Sacrifice.  Enter Earl of Warwick. Exeter. 
The Earl of Warwick in his looks does bring  
Some News of high importance to the King.  Warw. 
Arm! Arm! Great Sir, the Foe is in our view,  
And has a Herald sent to challenge you.  King. 
Tell him, I in this Field possess all France,  
From which I'll ne'er retire, but may advance.  
In vain they threaten War, or promise Peace,  
They boast their numbers, which we wish not less;  
They are enough both to destroy and save;  
But were they more, they here might find a Grave.  
Take care the Herald so rewarded be,  
That he may know his Message pleases me.  
Under their Standards, as I ordered you,  
Are all my Troops fixed in the form I drew?  Warw. 
They are, and like one face, all looks agree,  
Resolving and foretelling Victory.  King. 
Who ere a room to other thoughts affords,  
Injures our Quarrel, and mistakes our Swords.  Warw. 
How short a time and narrow space of ground  
Is't 'twixt your Conquest, and your being Crowned?  King. 
To make both shorter, I will straight advance,  
And by two Titles wear the Crown of France.  
Uncle, to your command with speed repair;  
The right wing, Brother, does expect your care;  
Both to the field of Battle lead the way,  
Whilst but a moment I with Tudor stay.  Exeunt Exeter, Bedford, Warwick. 
Oh my Best Friend! thy sadness I must blame,  [Tudor appears. 
Canst thou now think on any thing but Fame?  Tudor. 
When I reflect how many dangers still  
You must attempt, how many more you will—  King. 
Reflect on dangers which must glory win.  Tudor. 
Excuse me, if my duty makes me sin:  
Since I no other way can grateful prove,  
I'll rather show my fear, then hide my love.  King. 
That I to thee may proofs of mine dispense,  
I now stay here, though glory calls me hence:  
When Fame, when Life, and Empire are at stake,  
All thoughts of those for thee I can forsake;  
Banish thy grief by thinking on that praise,  
Which shall thy name so high in Battle raise,  
That all my future favours men may say,  
Are not what I bestow, but what I pay.  Tudor. 
What you have said and done brings me relief;  
This day I will deserve your love or grief.  King. 
Speak not of grief, but think on that applause  
Which Heaven doth still allow the juster cause.  Tudor. 
Why should he be by too much courage lost,  
Of whom alone this world has cause to boast?  [Exeunt. Enter Dauphin, and De Chastel. Dauph. 
Let me despise what I can ne'er obtain:  
I'll live retired since I'm denied to reign.  
My Mother, having got the Regency,  
Does either hate, or is afraid of me;  
But I perceive by my retirement here,  
I shun her malice, and suppress her fear;  
I shall (if I to Paris now return)  
Her hatred feel, or which is worse, her scorn.  De Chast. 
But shall our Dauphin, the undoubted Heir,  
Sit idly peaceful in an active War,  
And let his Enemy the Throne ascend?  Dauph. 
He who my wrongs revenges, is my Friend.  
De Chastel, you have often heard me plead,  
That in this War I might the Army lead;  
On me so high a trust she'll not bestow,  
And any other trust I think too low:  
A Prince whose Soul as well as Birth is great,  
If he in glory cannot shine, should set:  
From Courts I am condemned to Villages,  
From noble toils of War t'ignoble ease;  
Where undisturbed I'll for her hatred grieve,  
And honour makes me rather choose to live  
Equal with men not worth the Governing  
Then be at Court and there not be a King.  De Chast. 
Though I confess her usage, Sir, has been  
Such as not fits a Mother or a Queen;  
Yet, Sir, consider whilst from her you fly,  
You more exalt the Duke of Burgundy.  Dauph. 
That fatal name my fury doth advance:  
'Twas he who Murth'red Royal Orleans;  
And, though the Queen recover my esteem,  
No Palace can have space for me and him.  De Chast. 
Return the sooner to revenge that blood.  
No man has well his interest understood,  
Who to enjoy it scrupled at the way:  
He who builds high must low foundations lay.  
I by the Queen for your return am sent,  
Her harsh behaviour she does now repent:  
By kind submissions you may rule her heart,  
And what's denied by kindness, gain by Art;  
With small compliance you'll suppress her hate,  
When Nature's judge, and Duty advocate.  
Your absence, Sir, has cast your party down:  
Few follow those on whom the Prince does frown.  Dauph. 
Thou in all storms hast been my constant Friend,  
I'll on thy wisdom and thy care depend;  
'Tis just I should to thy advice submit,  
For he who makes my fate, should govern it.  De Chast. 
With this glad news I will outride the Post,  
And e'er you come to Court, I'll clear the Coast.  [Exeunt. Enter the Queen of France, Princess Katherine, Princess Anne of Burgundy, Duke of Burgundy, and their Train. Queen. 
This is the day Alencon sent us word,  
He would our Fate determine by the Sword;  
Which he has hastened, hearing by his Spies  
The Plague had so impaired our Enemies,  
That more delay would make our Prince's dream  
They should not come to kill, but bury them;  
And France would be obliged for her defence,  
Not to their Swords, but to that Pestilence.  Burgun. 
Since from th' Eternal Power that rod is sent,  
Why from his hand take we the punishment?  
And this insulting, Madam, makes me fear  
Our ruin rather than our triumph near:  
Those English Swords on which he sets no price,  
Lately cut down our Flower de Luce's twice;  
And to King Edward's Piety we owe  
The miracle that now again they grow.  Queen. 
France justly might the English Valour dread,  
Were it again by that Great Monarch led;  
We fear him less who now that Crown does wear,  
His wildness, not his courage, brings him here.  Burgun. 
Whilst his prodigious Father was alive,  
Some youthful signs of wildness he did give;  
But when he early on his Throne was placed,  
A Kingly Soul his Royal Title graced;  
And than whatever mis-becoming thing  
Lived in the Prince, was buried in the King;  
Nought should in us low thoughts of him persuade,  
Who does himself subdue, and France invade.  Enter a French Lady. Lady. 
The Count of Blamount from the Camp with news  
Does wait without, and for admittance sues.  Queen. 
Blamount so soon returned? let him appear.  
Ill news is swifter than the wings of fear.  
His looks to me a sad account have given.  Enter Blamount. 
Where is Alencon?  Blame. 
Madam, he's in Heaven:  
That glory cannot be to him denied,  
Who for his Country lived, and for it died.  Queen. 
The brave Alencon Dead! by what mischance?  Blame. 
By the most signal that e'er fell on France.  Queen. 
Without disguise the naked truth declare,  
Before my grief be turned into despair.  Blame. 
Last night both Camps so near each other lay,  
As we not more for triumph longed then day;  
The mighty Martel led not braver men,  
When he at Tours subdued the Syracen,  
And with the blood washed France, than did resort  
To the unhappy fields of Agincourt;  
Where many then with joyful shouts did greet  
The rising Sun, who ne'er should see him set:  
A while both Armies on each other gazed,  
Both at th' intended slaughter seem amazed.  Queen. 
Could those who oft have bloody Battles won,  
Stand long amazed at ills which must be done?  Blame. 
Wars cheerful Music now fills every Ear,  
Whilst death more gaudy did than life appear.  
For various Ensigns did unfold such Pride,  
That all seemed Bridegrooms there, and Death the Bride;  
The noble order in each squadron seen;  
The many Warriors of a haughty mien;  
The prouder horses chafing to be rid,  
Who breathed the Combat as their Riders did;  
Made all confess that War gave Death a grace,  
And has its charms as well as beauty has.  
After a little pause they both advance,  
One to preserve, th' other to conquer France:  
Those who did proudly think the Foe would yield,  
Saw him draw up with order in the Field;  
And by a King advanced, whose hand and head,  
All the defects supplied of those he lead.  Queen. 
How! did young Henry dare to meet you then?  
We heard diseases had consumed his men.  Blame. 
The courages of all the English dead,  
Were to those few then living newly fled:  
So thin, so harassed all his Squadrons were,  
As we did pity them we used to fear;  
For it is equally as strange to say,  
That they durst fight, as that they won the day:  
But Fame can want no theme when she does sing  
Of English Swords led by an English King;  
Nor was he only in the Battle known  
By his bright Armour, which like lightning shone;  
But did with nobler marks his Valour grace,  
Still being seen where foremost danger was.  
Alanson, who observed this wondrous King,  
Courage to his, and fear to ours did bring;  
Made fighting single with him his high aim,  
And in a Battle to a Duel came.  Queen. 
By an attempt so noble and sublime,  
He showed as much as I believed of him.  Blame. 
Both Nations at a sight so great and rare,  
Their bloody Swords suspended in the Air,  
And by a general silence made it known,  
They in their Leaders fate would see their own:  
But though Alencon did stupendious things,  
A Subjects Sword could not resist a Kings;  
Angels are Guardians of that Sacred name.  Burgun. 
Yet by his death he got a deathless fame.  Blame. 
That loss invaded all to that degree,  
As we more fought for Death then Victory;  
For many Worthies waited on his fall,  
The Constable of France, the Admiral,  
The Duke of Brabant, and the Duke of Bar;  
Promiscuous killing now disgraced the War:  
So glutted was the thirsty Victor's Sword,  
As now the spacious world cannot afford,  
After so many Heroes drowned in gore,  
Unless of English, one brave Worthy more.  Queen. 
That Nation still too highly you esteem.  Burg. 
Ourselves we best excuse in praising them.  Blame. 
Now only horror, death, confusion reigns,  
And covers Agincourts unhappy plains;  
Here Corpses lie, where Squadrons lately stood;  
Standards and Ensigns there lie rolled in blood;  
Here woods of Lances o'er the Fields are spread,  
And dying men lie groaning o'er the dead.  Queen. 
If truth consents to what you now relate,  
From this black day France may her ruin date.  Blame. 
This is not all the destiny of France;  
The Dukes of Bourbon and of Orleans,  
The Lords of Domcourt, Humiere, Harcourt, Salt-Roy,  
Fauconbridge, Noel, and Beausiquault,  
And many more of signal worth and race,  
The Conquerors Triumphal Chariot grace.  
But Boudile, who this day first turned his back,  
In hopes to wash away a stain so black,  
Assaulted with a loud and furious cry  
Th'unguarded baggage of the Enemy.  
The King supposed new Troops had took the field,  
And ordered straight all Prisoners to be killed:  
What Bondile thus at first and last did do,  
Made Henry happy, and yet cruel too;  
But 'twas a cruelty ourselves did cause,  
And which his judgement took from safeties laws;  
For shameful was our Fate, the Prisoners there  
Surpassed in number those who Victors were.  Queen. 
Could nothing, less than this, heavens' wrath abate?  
It made us Agents to our own dire Fate.  Burg. 
The Destinies were never so severe,  
The fault, as well as loss, they make us bear;  
And by so strange a ruin make us know,  
This Empire to one field her fall may owe.  
Were those Renowned Commanders now alive,  
They might the Fortune of lost France revive,  
And by their Swords restore her dying Fame.  Blame. 
All those are living which I last did name:  
The King did rather hazard a gained field,  
Then suffer Chiefs so noble to be killed;  
And but with half his Army did advance,  
Twice in one day, to act the Fate of France,  
Leaving the rest to guard them where they stood.  Burgun. 
His Valour sheds, his Mercy spares our blood.  Blame. 
Young Tudor, Madam, much renowned you know,  
To whom all France her gratitude does owe;  
For he, when all did dangers face decline,  
Met it to serve the Princess Katherine;  
He 'gainst my will this hated life did save,  
And when he heard those orders Henry gave,  
Fearing their rigour might extend to me,  
Above my hope, or wish, did set me free;  
He told me as we parted that he knew,  
I had the honour to belong to you.  Bowing to Princess Katherine. Queen. 
'Tis Heaven has strucken us; and when we know  
That hand, who dares want patience for the blow?  
My Lord, 'tis needful I resolve with speed  
Who shall the fatal Constable succeed.  Burg. 
And counsel needful is how far 'tis fit,  
After defeat to struggle or submit.  Queen. 
Assemble straight. Heaven does occasion give  
Of Mourning, yet allows no time to grieve.  Exeunt Queen, Burgundy, Blamount, Lady. Prin. An. 
Madam, methought when tudor's name you heard,  
A new Vermilion in your face appeared;  
That word did raise a trouble there as great,  
As you discovered hearing our defeat:  
Though these are signs that Love does for him sue,  
Yet to your friendship there is so much due,  
That from my height of faith I'll not descend,  
I'll rather blame my eyes then doubt my Friend,  
And think I saw not that which I did see,  
Rather than fear you hide yourself from me.  Prin. Kat. 
Ah, how this soft concernment shows you just!  
For what can be too precious for your trust?  
I must confess I blushed when he was named,  
But it was scorn, not love, my face inflamed,  
That any but a King, and Crowned with Bays,  
Presumed so high as me his thoughts to raise;  
That secret now shall be to you revealed,  
Which only through your absence was concealed:  
With so much grief I did your absence mourn,  
When to your Father's Court you did return,  
That the same day I to St. german went  
To give in that retreat my sorrows vent;  
A storm o'ertook us as we thither past,  
Rain made the rising Flood to swell so fast,  
That of the bridge it did the mastery get,  
An Arch was born away, and we with it.  Prin. An. 
Madam, I heard that even that sad mischance  
Did frighten you, less than it frighted France.  Prin. Kath. 
Tudor, whom fortune led that way, descried  
What many more with vain compassion spied;  
They at the horror of my danger wept,  
He from the bridge into the River leapt,  
And stemmed the raging Current, till he bore  
My breathless body to the neighbouring shore;  
Him to the Court this timely service brought,  
In whom so many Charms concurring wrought,  
As I can scarce without some blushes own,  
That I did grieve he sat not on a Throne;  
For to a Princess, who like me would do,  
He who a Throne does want, wants all things too.  Prin. An. 
Ah Madam! Love, if it be strong and true,  
Levels the powerful down to those that sue;  
And, when by inclination we are steered,  
Only what that does speak is fully heard.  Prin. Kath. 
Tudor soon changed his cheerful brow at Court;  
To unfrequented Groves he did resort;  
Whilst others did rejoice, he sighing mourned,  
And all his freedom into bondage turned:  
This new distemper to a habit grew,  
His mirth was ever feigned, his sorrows true:  
The cause of this when I desired to know,  
He made no answer, but did sigh and bow;  
By no reply he would his silence break.  Prin. An. 
In such a silence he did more than speak.  Prin. Kath. 
Ah! so he did; but yet I must confess  
I knew not Love could speak, yet hold its peace:  
I urged to be informed; he sighed and then  
Looked often on me, and looked down again;  
Then said, you force me, Madam, to a straight  
To disobey you, or deserve your hate:  
One of these evils does engage me now;  
Silence the first, speaking the last will do;  
But I implore you will not think it fit  
To force me unto speech, then punish it.  Prin. An. 
Against your justice, Madam, 'twas a crime  
To punish what you did constrain from him.  Prin. Kath. 
Then he his passion for me did declare  
With words and gestures, which so mournful were,  
As straight I did, by my experience, prove,  
That pity was no way to bring in Love:  
A hundred things he said, but I was so  
Offended with myself, and with him too;  
First, that his words I had constrained from him,  
Then that he could be guilty of that crime;  
As I forgot even all he did relate  
But these few words, which I shall ne'er forget;  
Love, of a wondrous birth, cannot expire,  
Which strangely in the water first took fire.  Prin. An. 
None, Madam, but a Lover will believe  
That flames in water can their birth receive.  Prin. Kath. 
'Tis true, but those bold words which then he spoke,  
Did soon my indignation so provoke,  
That never any crime can raise it higher;  
I bid him instantly from Court retire:  
'Twould grieve your patience if I should declare  
All that he said, his trespass to repair;  
Let it suffice that after that black night  
I never did admit him to my sight;  
Nor will I tell you how he sought relief,  
And vainly since hath almost died with grief.  Prin. An. 
Did you not give him then some sighs by stealth,  
And wish his sickly mind a little health?  Prin. Kath. 
All that't had been injustice to deny.  Prin. An. 
Sure that was Love?  Prin. Kath. 
Oh! no, 'twas Charity.  
Love is a flame which nothing can control;  
As souls to bodies are, Love's to the soul;  
A power which does all other powers overturn,  
And cannot be concealed when it does burn.  
Had that been Love, which is mistook by you,  
Tudor had seen, and I had felt it too;  
But term it what you please, it cannot be,  
Whilst I have power to rule it, Love in me.  Prin. An. 
Love to his height oft by degrees does rise,  
Sometimes it storms a bosom by surprise;  
Love moves not ever in one constant road,  
Oft, like a Child, he acts, then like a God;  
And, by your easy ruling him, you may  
Mistake his power for what is but his play.  Prin. Kath. 
I doubt you'd have me think I am in Love.  Prin. An. 
I rather would my fear of it remove.  Prin. Kath. 
No, though I were, so much I owe my fame  
That to my birth I would resign my flame.  Prin. An. 
May I, with safety, build on what you say?  Prin. Kath. 
If my own heart deceive me not, you may.  Prin. An. 
Then I will tell you something which, perhaps,  
If you are cured, will hinder your relapse.  
When dreadful Henry to this War was bent,  
The Royal Bedford to my Father sent  
Offers of power and treasure, with design  
To make him in this last Invasion join:  
My Father to his Burgundy retired,  
Having rejected what the Duke desired;  
But said, since here unjustly we retain  
Anjou, Rich Normandy, and Aquitane,  
He would, if rendering these might Peace advance,  
Persuade in England, and prevail in France.  Prin. Kath. 
We then have done th' injurious Henry wrong:  
Do all these Provinces to him belong?  Prin. An. 
France can no other Title there pretend,  
But what, force having got, Arms must defend.  Prin. Kath. 
My grief for our defeat shall then grow less;  
Since we want justice we should want success.  Prin. An. 
But since to me your secrets you declare,  
'Tis equal you in mine should have a share.  
An Madam! do not wonder if my heart,  
Which was entirely yours when we did part,  
Is from that high and blessed condition flown,  
I, blushing, say, 'tis now no more my own.  
The Duke of Bedford, by the noblest force  
That e'er subdued a heart into remorse,  
Did with such joint success act his design,  
That I took his, and then resigned him mine.  Prin. Kath. 
Dear Princes, I shall now admire no more  
What you have mentioned of Love's art and power;  
Nor that so high in that discourse you went,  
Since you but spoke your own experiment.  Prin. An. 
If, Madam, you had present been to see  
The softness of those Charms which conquered me;  
You'd wonder more that long I held the field,  
Then that at last I willingly did yield.  Prin. Kath. 
The English Archers may victorious grow,  
Where Love begins the conquest with his bow.  Prin. An. 
After we had this sacred friendship made,  
He told me, though his brother would invade  
This Kingdom, to regain what was his due,  
Yet the chief conquest he designed, was you:  
He told me too, though England still affords  
Beauty's resistless as the English Swords,  
Yet none of them prevailed, though ne'er so bright,  
Like your victorious picture at first sight.  
Then he implored that when to you I came,  
I would prepare you to receive his flame;  
A flame which all things else must needs outdo,  
Since by him cherished and inspired by you:  
This, Madam, was the cause why I have pressed  
To find if e'er your heart were prepossessed;  
Let France, by you, be freed from her distress:  
This happy union will procure her peace.  Prin. Kath. 
If me he loved, her blood he then would spare;  
Loves gentle voice is never heard in War.  Prin. An. 
Yet, like a King to you he does pretend,  
Glory he makes his way, and Love his end.  Prin. Kath. 
Where blood does cry, can I a Lover hear?  Prin. An. 
When glory pleads, what then can stop your Ear?  Enter a Lady. Lady. 
Madam, the Council is assembled now,  
And e'er it sits, the Queen would speak with you.  Prin. Kath. 
I come: too long by Love we have been stayed;  
I will consider all that you have said.  Prin. An. 
Madam, be pleased to think upon it so,  
That France to you may her redemption owe.  [Exeunt.  

THE SECOND ACT.  Enter the King, Duke of Exeter, Duke of Bedford, Earl of Warwick, and Tudor. King. 
MY Lord of Warwick, you may give to all  
The French of note the rites of Funeral;  
It is a debt which to the dead we pay,  
Rewarding Courage even in those we slay.  Warwick. 
It shall be done.  King. 
Brother it will be fit  
The Prisoners you to stronger Guards commit;  
They shall a Court within our Army see;  
And in it nothing want but liberty.  Bed. 
They shall be safe, yet have some freedom too.  King. 
Uncle, the great request I make to you,  
Is to preserve our wounded men with care;  
'Tis by their courage we victorious are.  Exeter. 
They shall be served with all they can desire;  
We must that valour serve which you admire.  Exeunt Exeter, Bedford, Warwick. Tudor. 
Though this great day, th'expecting world may see  
Your Title both to France and Victory;  
And though no Conqueror alive, or dead,  
With nobler wreaths did ever crown his head;  
Yet pardon me if I presume to say,  
I see a sadness misbecomes this day;  
This day, in which your friends and foes confess,  
Nothing can make you greater, nothing less;  
So fixed are Fortunes Wheels they cannot turn,  
Then, Sir, permit only the French to mourn;  
The loss of York and Suffolk, though too great,  
Should not outweigh your Enemies defeat:  
If, Sir, your Wars cost not some lives, like these,  
You would not Conquests make, but miracles;  
Who in his Prince's service finds a Grave,  
Rather our envy than our grief should have,  
And fighting in your sight, who for you dies,  
Is blessed enough without such Obsequies:  
If to their death such envied grief you give,  
You'll make us then repent that we do live:  
Sir, for the livings sake your grief decline,  
And let your looks clear as your glories shine.  King. 
So great a loss as is above relief,  
Even on this day might justify my grief:  
He who of friendship knows the sacred ties,  
Will value more his Friends than Victories;  
But that just sorrow, which thou wouldst remove,  
Is not a tribute paid to Death but Love;  
If Fame, or Power, only in me did sway,  
I could not have been seen in Clouds to day;  
'Tis Love's fierce Fire which does my heart devour;  
Lesle to be quenched than heats of Fame or Power.  Tudor. 
She must do more than Woman e'er could do,  
Resisting such a King and Conqueror too;  
You, though her eyes should brightest beams emit,  
May safe in shades under your Laurels sit.  King. 
My Laurels might a safe refreshment prove  
To any other heat but that of Love;  
Their sacred force 'gainst Thunder only lies,  
Not against lightning shot from conquering eyes;  
Whose power, like that of lightning, I have felt;  
My breast they wound not, yet my heart they melt.  Tudor. 
May I not know who does my King subdue?  King. 
Saying I love, I need not tell thee who:  
Who of the Planets speaks of brightest beams,  
Need not say after, 'tis the Sun he means.  Tudor. 
The Sun by all is mentioned at one rate,  
But Fancy altars beauty's estimate;  
Were it not Fancy which that value gave,  
All Lovers than would but one Mistress have.  King. 
Such adoration Fancy cannot raise,  
As to this beauty sight and reason pays;  
For he whose heart Love can to ashes turn,  
Must feel her eyes alone have right to burn:  
But that this ignorance thou may'st decline,  
Know I adore the Princess Katherine:  
Loves Rebels by her eyes are kept in awe,  
She reigns in France spite of the Salic Law.  Tudor. 
Will not Love's heat make Glories flame expire?  King. 
No, Tudor, it will rather raise it higher;  
For none should aim at this exalted state  
Who makes not glory first his Advocate.  
This was the cause when Charles, her father, sent  
Ambassadors, my conquest to prevent;  
And this bright beauty offered for my Bride,  
But with her, as her Dowry, France denied;  
I shunned the match, knowing her beauties were  
No price for Peace, but the reward of War;  
My vows and passion she might justly scorn,  
Did I not Crown her Queen where she was born;  
And raise her boundless beauties to supply  
What a rude Law does to her Sex deny.  Tudor. 
Perhaps your flame had with more lustre shone,  
Had you for it declined the gallic Throne:  
For love of her to quit in France your right  
Is more than 'tis to conquer it in fight;  
Nor can you hope her passions flame to raise  
When with her Country's blood you stain your Bays.  King. 
Dear Tudor, I perceive because thou art  
A Subject thou mistak'st a Monarch's heart.  
Those, who from Royal veins derive their blood,  
Find only in a Throne what's great and good;  
Sure Nature in her would much rather see  
Her Son then Brother rule this Monarchy.  Tudor. 
A Love like this was never known before,  
The Father you'll depose, the Child adore.  
Your Love will be in proofs of hatred shown;  
You on her Country's ruins build her Throne;  
This strange design, Sir, does my wonder raise.  King. 
A Love like mine moves not in common ways:  
Such unexampled things I'll strive to do,  
That when I reach to what I now pursue,  
When men name one who loved to a degree  
ne'er known before, they'll say he loved like me.  
Prepare thyself to go within an hour  
To the French Court as my Ambassador;  
And let them know if they resign up France,  
(Mine both by Conquest and Inheritance)  
They shun such force as cannot be withstood,  
They show their justice, and they spare their blood.  
Success now asks but what I asked before.  Tudor. 
He that at first asked all can ask no more.  
Much is not in the proffer I shall make.  King. 
Yes, it is much to ask what I can take,  
And to accept from them that Crown which I  
Have given me from the hand of Victory.  
Tudor, in this they cannot but confess,  
I make my mercy hinder my success.  Tudor. 
It might be then convenient that I tried  
T'obtain with France the Princess for your Bride:  
Since you as well for her as France contend,  
Without her you'll not reach your noblest end.  King. 
She justly, Tudor, might my passion hate  
If Love's high interest I should mix with state.  
If I this great concern by Treaty move  
'Twill be below her Beauty and my Love.  
That blessing must in nobler ways be sought:  
Though Heaven may be bestowed, 'tis never bought.  
But that which chiefly makes me send thee now  
Is that my Friend should let my Princess know  
My flames are such as Martyred Saints sustain;  
The glory of them takes away the pain.  [Exeunt. Tudor. 
Was ever such a Curse imposed by Fate?  
His favour wounds much deeper than his hate.  
I must unworthy or else wretched prove,  
Be false to Honour or else false to Love:  
To which of both shall I precedence give?  
I'm killed by this, by that unfit to live;  
But stay! why should not I, even I alone,  
Raise Love and Honour to a height unknown?  
If, for his sake, my passion I forego,  
In that great Act I pay him all I owe:  
Who for his King against his Love does act  
Pays Debts much greater than he can contract.  
Nor are these all th' advantages will flow  
From that great action I intent to do.  
If I her right above my Love prefer  
In that, by losing, I shall merit her.  
And to obtain, not merit her, will prove  
Less than to lose her and deserve her Love.  
'Tis worthy of my flame, and of her eyes,  
To make love be to love a sacrifice.  [Exeunt. Enter Queen, Duke of Burgundy, the Constable, Earl of Charaloys, and Count de Chastel. Queen. 
The fatal cause why we assemble now  
We by the worst of sad experience know.  
Heaven does, at once, on this our Empire shower  
All the fierce marks of anger and of power.  
The King, my Lord, whose head, and heart, and hand,  
Should be employed our ruin to withstand,  
Under his old disease still worser grows;  
Yields to his pain as France does to his Foes:  
Yet is he not unhappy in that state  
Which makes him not to feel the wounds of Fate.  
The Dauphin, whose green years make him unfit  
In such a storm at Empire's helm to sit,  
Yet for that great and dangerous place does press;  
And, missing it, forsake us in distress.  
As these two miseries assault us here,  
So th' English late success fills all with fear.  
Yet, France, surviving such destructive blows,  
Even in her ruin still her greatness shows.  
By your wise help she hopes yet to be freed;  
And on your breasts she leans her weary head.  
Shall we again by Battle try our Fate,  
Or with the English King Capitulate?  Const. 
Our shoulders but attend for heavier weight,  
If in the Field we shun to try our Fate.  
For doubtless, Madam, he less Virtue shows  
Who yields to, than who falls by fortunes blows.  
Rome, though she lost four Fields to Hannibal,  
Her valour raised even in her Fortune's fall.  
Her steady virtue did all storms suppress,  
And made her Empress of the Universe:  
I would not doubt but we at length should find  
A Roman Fate, had we a Roman mind.  De Chast. 
Those who too hastily with Victors treat,  
Make them too proud who were before too great.  
Such condescension would to fear dispose  
Your Subjects hearts, and elevate your Foes.  
Let not Posterity have cause to say,  
That you lost France, and lost her in one day.  Const. 
The chance of Arms are still alternative;  
Fortune one day does take, next day does give:  
And all the English fame will be o'erthrown  
If we of twenty Fields can win but one.  
All thoughts of Treaties, Madam, then despise,  
Which but excuses fear whilst we seem wise.  Burg. 
Madam, what the great Constable does say  
Becomes that place you raised him to this day:  
He, who the head of all your Armies is,  
Safe Counsels should obey but not advise.  
If to my judgement you will please to trust,  
Choose not what great appears, but what is just.  
Madam, it is alone by Arms you reign  
O'er Anjou, Normandy, and Aquitane.  
Those three, the noblest Provinces of France,  
Are th' English King's confessed Inheritance.  
whatever of prescription Gownsmen write,  
Yet length of time changes not wrong to right:  
Why should you not, ere things are desperate grown,  
By giving what is his, preserve your own?  
Keeping those Country's will at last be found  
A Gangreen; the corrupt will eat the sound.  Ear. of Char. 
Justice is more than but an empty word:  
Therefore, whilst that assists the English Sword,  
Success will always to their side resort;  
And every Field will be an Agin-Court.  Burg. 
Can Councils prosperous be or Armies strong,  
Both aiming to perpetuate a wrong?  
If after this fair offer he pursue  
The War, our Swords will act what his does now.  
If he accepts it (as no doubt he must)  
You will be safe as soon as you are just.  
Pursue the Acts of Justice; those alone  
Have power to save and to exalt a Throne.  Enter Blamount. Blame. 
Young Tudor is arrived, and craves to be  
With speed admitted to your Majesty.  
By those few words which have between us past  
I find his message does require some haste.  Queen. 
Know you what 'tis which does him hither bring?  Blame. 
Some overtures of peace from th' English King.  Blamount whispers in the Queens Ear. Queen. 
Yes, I consent; and give her notice I  
Expect she should receive him civilly.  [Exit Blamount. 
My Lords, I find your judgements various are;  
Two are for Treaty, th' other two for War.  
Such reasons you for both opinions give,  
That I, with reason, either may receive.  
But Tudor being come does surely bring  
Something important from the English King.  
'Tis fit our resolutions we defer  
Till I his business in his message hear.  [Exeunt. Enter Princess Katherine, and Blamount. Blame. 
Madam, what I have said the Queen will own.  Prin. Kath. 
What? That with Tudor I should speak alone?  Blame. 
He for that honour, Madam, now does stay.  Prin. Kath. 
Since by the Queen commanded, I obey.  [Exit Blamount. Enter Tudor. Tudor. 
Though, Madam, this high honour does excel  
What deeds can merit, or what words can tell,  
It shall no cause of new presumption be;  
I'll not repeat what you condemned in me.  
I than presumed to tell you of a Fire  
Your Eyes did ina Subjects heart inspire;  
But, Madam, now th'assurance which I bring,  
Is that your beauties have subdued a King;  
A King renowned by all the voice of Fame;  
The lest he has of Monarch is the name.  
He only Love and Glory does pursue;  
Which makes him Conquer France and yield to you.  
And by th'unhappi'st of his Subjects says,  
He at your feet his Heart and Laurel lays.  
Judge what his Virtues are, and what my Fate,  
Which makes his Rival turn his Advocate.  Prin. Kath. 
Tudor what first you spoke made me not fear  
That Rival was a word I e'er should hear.  
For you in that repeat the past offence,  
Which made me lately banish you from hence.  
If, by his worth, your King claims my esteem,  
Why grieve you that you plead to gain it him?  Tudor. 
Ah, Madam, may I not your pardon crave  
For grieving when I part from all I have?  
A Father, when he sees his only Son  
Condemned to death for what he could not shun  
(Though to the right of justice he submit)  
May well be pardoned if he mourns for it.  
By double Dictates, Madam, I am led;  
My loss makes me lament, my justice plead.  
But all my sorrows soon will lose their name  
If you raise him for whom I ruined am.  
A Prince who only does, as his just due,  
Deserve to love you, and be loved by you.  Prin. Kath. 
Has yet the Queen ought of this business known?  Tudor. 
I had but leave to wait on you alone.  
Those common paths of King's mine will not tread,  
To see by Picture and by proxy wed.  
He'll make his Court at an unusual rate;  
His is a love of liking, not of state.  
And says, he does not for a Mistress sue  
To France, but humbly begs yourself of you.  Prin. Kath. 
I but by Picture did to him appear.  Tudor. 
Yes, he has seen you in my Character.  
'Tis far above the laboured art of man  
To draw a Mistress as a Lover can.  
Your Picture took his sight; but you will find  
My words alone did Captivate his mind.  
Though you may think the pencils power is great;  
It aims to paint a fire, but not a heat;  
Much less a heat which does from Love arise,  
And which is kindled by his Mistress eyes.  
The Pencil to my words resigned the place;  
Those drew your Soul, that painted but your face.  
Madam, 'twas I who told him how your mind  
With greater lustre than your beauty shined;  
That from the Charms of your discourse and shape  
Men could no more then from your eyes escape.  
And I may justly, Madam, be afraid  
He saw, in me, you acted all I said;  
And to revenge that which you called a crime  
I on this Embassy am sent by him.  Prin. Kath. 
Tudor, into a new relapse you fall;  
You seemed to mourn at your love's Funeral:  
And I on that assurance pardoned you.  Tudor. 
I told you what was then, not what is now.  
If other words have wandered in my talk,  
The Ghost then of my murdered love did walk:  
And like a Ghost to none it shall appear,  
But before you, who are the Murderer.  Prin. Kath. 
If you'll to my esteem yourself restore,  
Let me, by it, be visited no more.  Tudor. 
Madam, I'll strive t'obey you from this hour.  
But, since the dead have o'er their Ghosts no power,  
If mine again the trespass should commit,  
My last request is that you'll pardon it;  
And to so sad a love some sorrow give,  
Which troubles you when dead, as when alive.  
But for my King I must my suit renew;  
And beg to know what I must say from you.  
If to accept his passion you incline,  
You'll make his happiness your own and mine.  
Since you deny what for myself I move,  
Let me, against myself, successful prove.  Prin. Kath. 
You may acquaint the King all you have said  
Have in my thoughts a fit impression made:  
That I (as all who have but heard his name)  
Believe his merit has acquired his fame;  
Though I with passion wish that he had chose  
To raise his glory on remoter Foes.  
I never more can his address receive  
Till from the Queen he has procured me leave.  Tudor. 
Why do you, Madam, words so cruel speak?  
Make him not for you to another seek;  
Since, in that way, should he successful prove  
'Twill rather show you can obey then love.  
Only to you let him his blessings own.  Prin. Kath. 
I have declared my resolution.  Tudor. 
To what then must the wretched Tudor trust?  Prin. Kath. 
To find his ever in what he grants is just.  Tudor. 
How can that heal him which does make his wound?  
Yet to obey you, Madam, he is bound.  
But if hereafter you should chance to hear  
Some dying sighs which may offend your Ear;  
Forced from him by the fiercest griefs assault,  
Be pleased to pity, not condemn the fault.  [Exit Tudor. Prin. Kath. 
Oh! why is Love called Nature's highest Law,  
When Title, Man's invention, does it awe?  
But 'tis the strength which reason does impart  
That makes my blood give rules thus to my heart.  
If Nature reason on us did bestow,  
Love, Natures dictate, 'twould not overthrow.  
But reason is a bright resistless fire  
Which Heaven, not Nature, does in us inspire.  
It is not Nature's Child, but Nature's King;  
And o'er love's height does us to glory bring.  
As bodies are below, and Souls above  
So much should reason be preferred to Love:  
Since Glory is the Souls most proper Sphere,  
It does but wander when it moves not there.  
This makes that King, who Courts me, France subdue;  
And makes me fly what else I would pursue.   

THE third ACT.  Enter King Henry, Tudor▪ Tudor. 
WHat I have said shows all that I have done;  
The Daughter by the Mother must be won.  
Those, Sir, who, serving Heaven, to Heaven pretend,  
By others mediation reach that end.  King. 
That obligation, Tudor, I'll decline.  
She shall be all her own that must be mine.  
'Tis for her glory she herself should give  
The greatest gift that I can e'er receive.  
If from her will I differ, can she hate  
My being for her interest obstinate?  [Tudor offers to speak. 
Go! what I told thee Tudor, must be done:  
He ne'er meets Honour who does danger shun.  Tudor. 
A Subject must not with his King contend.  King. 
Subject? thou art more; thou art my Friend!  
Make haste! for I will only stay behind  
Till I have orders for the Treaty signed.  [Exeunt several ways. Enter Duke of Burgundy, and Charaloys. Burg. 
No, Son, the Treaty must not so proceed,  
Lest of my help the Queen should have no need:  
That envied power which makes me useful here  
Is the effect not of her Love, but fear;  
Whilst things continue in their present state  
I can dispose of France and England's Fate.  
The greatest skill that I would wish from Heaven,  
Is in a War to keep the Scale so even  
As neither Party ever may prevail  
But by his help whose hand does hold the Scale.  
Whilst these two mighty Kingdoms disagree  
I keep in safety my own Burgundy.  Char. 
Have you forgot that vow, Sir, which you made  
To th' English King when France he did invade?  
That vow is to your Honour still a debt.  Burg. 
A Statesman all but interest may forget,  
And only ought in his own strength to trust:  
'Tis not a Statesman Virtue to be just.  Char. 
Those words which lately you in Council said,  
Have on my Breast a deep impression made.  
You urged that Acts of justice are alone  
What can preserve or must exalt a Throne.  
Is your own counsel by yourself despised?  Burg. 
I then for others, not myself, advised.  
Reason should still appoint us what to do.  Char. 
You'll find that Reason has Religion too,  
Which is by interchange of justice shown,  
Doing to all what to yourself is done.  Burg. 
You measure Reason with a crooked line.  Char. 
High Reason to Religion does incline.  Burg. 
ay, Son, reason of Cloisters, not of State:  
Power seldom is Religious to that height.  
Religion too not Reason is, but Faith.  Char. 
I fear, Sir, if such dangerous ways you choose,  
Instead of ruling both, you both will lose.  Burg. 
A harder game than this I twice have played;  
And though, by fortune, I was still betrayed;  
Yet still to greater power I reached at length:  
Antaeus-like, by falling, I got strength.  
Besides, De Chastel, by much art and pain,  
Has brought the Dauphin back to Court again;  
Who offers, if I'll urge the Queen for War,  
We equally betwixt us two shall share  
All Armies and all Governments in France,  
And he'll forget the death of Orleans.  Charl. 
O Sir, from such an offered Friendship fly;  
What only interest ties it will untie.  
And I presume though you restored him France  
He'll ne'er forget the death of Orleans.  
I wish Heaven sooner may forgive it you.  Burg. 
Alas young man, if you but truly knew  
What powerful Charms on sweet revenge do wait  
You would have acted what you think you hate.  Charl. 
Beware, Sir, I beseech you then in time  
Lest his revenge may seem as sweet to him.  Burg. 
These tender thoughts are graceful in a Son!  
I have your interest, you, your duty shown.  
I'll hear their offers, though I them refuse:  
When all is offered I the best will choose.  [Exeunt. Enter Dauphin, De Chastel. De Chast. 
Sir, I believe you now no longer fear  
That on vain hopes I begged your presence here.  
The Queen, while you retired, had by her Arts  
So robbed you of your future Subjects hearts,  
That 'twas your presence only could restore  
Them to that duty which they owe to Power.  
Sir, Fortune too begins to pay her debts;  
For the Burgundian with your Servant treats;  
And such an Ear to my discourse he lent  
As makes me more than hope a good event.  
And, as a proof, he liked what I did speak:  
He vowed he would the English Treaty break.  
Nor is this all; the Countess of La Marr  
(To whom your Sister grows particular)  
I have entirely wrought to favour you:  
She told me, and th' Intelligence is new,  
That Blamount from the Queen has gained free leave  
Your Sister shall a single audience give  
To one whom Henry sent with privacy.  Dauph. 
His Love for her will fatal be to me,  
Unless th' effects of it I soon prevent.  De Chast. 
I therefore have obtained La Marrs consent  
That you, concealed, shall in that room remain  
Where she this messenger will entertain.  
By that concealment you may clearly know  
The roots of their designs, and how they grow.  Dauph. 
Heaven for my Mother's faults makes me amends  
In sending me a Friend who gets me Friends.  
I feared my Sister's pride, my Mother's hate,  
The English Kings great Love, and greater Fate,  
Helped by the subtle head of Burgundy,  
Might by a fatal Marriage ruin me.  
But this permission thou for me hast got  
May teach me both to know and break the Plot.  
When does this Love-Embassadour appear?  De Chast. 
They every moment, Sir, expect him here.  Dauph. 
Then it is fit I instantly repair  
To that concealment promised by La Marr.  [Exeunt. Enter Queen, and Great Constable. Queen. 
Yes, I have seen the Dauphin, but methought  
Though he has humbler gestures with him brought,  
Shaping his looks to what he gently said,  
Yet old resentments clearly he betrayed.  
But yet, perhaps, those Charms which Courts attend  
May to some mildness his fierce nature bend.  
I will apply all that is taught by Art  
Or wiser Nature to reclaim his heart.  
'Tis fit you know, ere you begin to Treat,  
The King of England's passion is so great  
For my unmarried Daughter, that I hear  
He'll quit all he does claim, to marry her.  
That this is true the Duke does undertake;  
And you great use may of that passion make.  Const. 
Madam! 'tis strange, for she was then as fair  
When offered to him to prevent a War.  Queen. 
He that by rules can judge a Lover's heart,  
Has brought into the world an unknown Art.  
But, having heard me, you must now be gone:  
Should the Duke know we two had been alone  
(You having both ta'en solemn leave of me)  
It might in him create a jealousy.  [Exeunt. Enter Princess Katherine, and King Henry Incognito. King. 
Madam, when first my King from Tudor heard  
That you your person to the Queen referred,  
He sent me hither humbly to desire  
You'd to your eyes be just and to his fire;  
And would believe this right to both is due,  
That he his Fate should only learn from you.  
He'll but from you receive his destiny,  
Whether you'll make him live, or have him die.  Prin. Kath. 
That answer, which by Tudor you have known,  
Is, Sir, my final resolution.  
Nothing can e'er persuade me to forsake  
Results which duty and my reason make.  King. 
Let him not be a double Sacrifice;  
You killed him with your Words, and with your Eyes.  
Heaven meant that Beauty, Nature's greatest force,  
Having exceeding power, should have remorse.  
Valour, and it, the world should so enjoy  
As both might overcome, but not destroy.  Prin. Kath. 
He who in Fight has all the French overthrown  
Cannot be killed by words spoke but by one.  King. 
Let he who has in France a Conquering power  
With joy does own you as his Conqueror.  
And that you may not doubt that this is true  
He is in person come to tell it you!  The King takes off his Disguise. 
I was Love's Heretic till you I saw,  
In that which Tudor said, and Art did draw;  
Now, like an Heretic, I treated am  
By Love, who has condemned me to the flame.  
Your Picture to resist I wanted skill;  
T' oppose th' Original I want the will:  
Believe what of myself is told by me.  Prin. Kath. 
The King of England! sure it cannot be!  King. 
Madam! by doubting add not to his pain;  
You cannot but know him in whom you reign.  Prin. Kath. 
Since he 'twixt France and all her safety stands,  
How dares he trust his person in her hands?  King. 
He who adores you, and dares tell you so,  
What is there after which he dare not do?  Prin. Kath. 
To what a straight, Sir, have you brought me too?  
I must be false to France, or false to you.  The Dauphin discovers himself. Dauph. 
I will enlarge you though you wicked grow  
In calling that a straight which was not so:  
For she who doubts if evil she should act  
Does, in that very doubt, a guilt contract.  
No wonder now that France is fallen so low  
The Daughter of it treating thus our Foe.  Prin. Kath. 
Brother! I nothing of his coming knew;  
His being here surprised me more than you.  Dauph. 
Sister, when he revealed himself, your eyes  
Showed greater signs of liking then surprise:  
And, to convince me clearly of your crime,  
You doubted if you should discover him.  King. 
I shall want patience to attend this storm!  Prin. Kath. 
The only fault you should in me reform  
Is that I doubted whether I should do  
As it became the Sister, Sir, of you.  
But to the King Heaven will this truth aver,  
I ne'er would have revealed his being here.  
My Father's virtue to the world is known;  
Who to my falsehood would not owe his Throne.  
If acts of Treachery he does not hate,  
What he now suffers he deserves from Fate.  
Since, by fair War, France now assaulted is,  
Let her sink lower, or by Virtue rise.  
To abject deeds I'll never condescend,  
Nor make the means unworthy of the end.  King. 
Virtue a higher pitch did never rise;  
It has a lustre which outshines her Eyes.  
Madam, in saying what you pleased to say,  
You broke that silence my respects did pay.  
And now, Sir, something I shall let you see  
To make you grant you injured her, and me.  Dauph. 
Have you a Passport then for coming here?  King. 
This is my Passport to go every where!  
Who ere a Passport such as this can show  Pointing to his Sword. 
Will find all places safe, or make 'em so.  
And, Sir, it is by this that you must swear  
Not to reveal what you discovered here:  
This must be sworn, and sworn without a pause.  Dauph. 
You should subdue me e'er you give me Laws.  
Yet, I will swear; but 'tis that to this chance  
I owe the power to pay my debts to France.  
Debts, which so weighty were as I did bow  
More under them then France does under you.  
Those debts which by a cruel Mother's sway  
Till now I to my Birth could never pay.  
Fortune! and Sister! here I pardon you,  
For all you did and all that you would do!  
Since through her Blindness, and your Treachery,  
Myself I single in condition see  
To make our France such a revenge receive  
As all her Swords in Battle could not give.  
I only grieve one false to France and me  
Should of that justice th' only witness be:  
But yet that cause of grief should disappear  
Since seeing of your death will punish her.  King. 
Oh could I justly think myself so blessed  
That what relates to me could touch her breast,  
Though I should perish in this present strife,  
My death would be more happy than my life.  
But since no service I have paid her yet  
Can make me hope a happiness so great,  
I'll strive to merit that which you but fear,  
By now revenging what you said to her!—  
But yet, we should not fight she being by.—  Dauph. 
That is the reason why you here must die.  [Draws his Sword.] King. 
Then, Madam, you'll forgive me, if I now  [King draws. 
Defend that life which does belong to you.—  Prin. Kath. 
Oh Heavens! whom shall I call? perhaps I may  
Saving my Brother's life the King betray.  [Exit, and enters again with La Marr. 
You broke your trust. Think on the King's high worth.  La Marr. 
Blamount's without and stays to lead him forth!  King closes with him and disarms him. Prin. Kath. 
Go open straight the Garden Gallery,  
Keep for the Kings escape the passage free.—  
First for my Brother in the Lobby stay.—  Lafoy Marr. 
When he is gone I'll shut it with this key.  [Exit La Marr. Prin. Kath. 
My Brother is disarmed! what shall I do?  King. 
Your life, young Prince, is at my mercy now.  Prin. Kath. 
Sir, for my Brother's life let me implore;  
Nature speaks now as Honour did before!  King. 
I to your pleasure ever will submit.—  
'Tis to your blood you owe my sparing it.—  
Your life I give you at the Princess word;  
And, for her sake, I here restore your Sword.  
But, Sir, remember you're obliged by me  
No more t'invade your Sister's privacy;  
Nor practise to obstruct that passions way  
Which is a debt so due as I must pay.  
These not observing my revenge shall prove  
As strong to you as she shall find my love.  
But if in both your courtesy be shown,  
What here has past shall vanish as unknown.  Dauph. 
Your Fortune, Sir, is great o'er France and me;  
Great is your promise too of secrecy.  
But if I can myself with silence please,  
You may thank that, and not your Menaces.  [Exit Dauphin. Prin. Kath. 
I'll follow him t'observe which way he takes,  
Whilst, for the King, she th'other passage makes.  
Sir, you should stay a while; I'll straight return!  [Exit. King. 
Oh Heavens! why have I given her cause to mourn?  
Blamount, whose conduct did me hither bring  
Will surely with a Friend, and with a King,  
His promise keep; which was to see me out.  
I cannot his unblemished honour doubt.  
But I will stay to speak with her though all  
The World were to be buried in my fall.  [Enter Princess: 
Madam, Can you the cause in me forgive  
Which gave you terrors here and make you grieve?  
When you he injures not, much more than me,  
Your presence will his Sanctuary be.  Prin. Kath. 
I will forgive you, Sir, all terrors here,  
If by your quick return you'll end my fear.  
To all your longer stay Alarms will give;  
My Brother's Nature is Vindicative:  
I fear from his revenge all that is ill,  
Here, where he wants no power to act his will.  King. 
A greater ruin, Madam, I foresee  
Then he, though in this place, can cast on me;  
If I from hence should to my Camp remove  
Before I know how you receive my love.  Prin. Kath. 
The first day, Sir, you'll think it were unfit  
I should do more then only know of it.  
Nor have you any reason to despair  
When for your safety I express my care.  King. 
Virtue may make you be my safety's friend;  
But to what's dearer to me I pretend.  
My safety lies not in my going hence  
But in that blessing you may here dispense.  
I would not safety without that enjoy;  
And with it, nought my safety can destroy.  Prin. Kath. 
I will say any thing you'll have me say  
Rather than keep you here in ruins way.  
But yet, that what I speak may not a appear  
To be the dictates only of my fear,  
If you were gone I'll to myself confess  
Such virtue and respect you did express,  
That what I thought an Age had not the power  
To act in me, you acted in one hour.  
Now, Sir, you should retire, and give a Maid  
The ease to blush alone for what she said.  King. 
Madam, I go: but go so charmed from hence,  
Both by your eyes, and virtue's influence,  
That 'tis impossible for me to know  
To which I most of Adoration owe.  
But if the humblest duty, highest fire,  
Which man ere showed, or love did ere inspire,  
Can be oblations fitting to be paid,  
You'll ne'er need blush for what you now have said.  Enter La Marr. La Marr. 
Sir, Blamount stays for you. This is your way!  Prin. Kath. 
She is your Guide, take heed Sir of delay!  [Exeunt La Marr, King 
Who can or Love or Reason's Power express?  
One oft does more than th'other, often less.  
Reason makes me a Subjects passion fly;  
Love o'er a King gains such a Victory  
As makes him venture life, and, what is far  
More great, his growing Glories of the War,  
That he his passion only might relate  
And from my lips might hear his doubtful Fate.  
Sure, to return some love for love so great,  
Is not to give a gift but pay a debt.  [Exeunt. Enter Dauphin, and de Chastel. Dauph. 
Oh Friend, if I had killed him in that fight,  
My Glory I had raised to such a height  
That, maugre all my Mother's arts and hate,  
I had restored, and I had ruled the State.  
All their successes had with him been dead;  
For he's his Army's Soul as well as head.  
Why did my Stars so fair a hope afford  
(Leaving, O France! thy Fortune to my Sword)  
Yet not to kill or perish by my Foe;  
But both my Life and Sword I to him owe?  De Chast. 
Your mind, Sir, is too great to feel despair  
For one ill chance in Duel, or in War.  Dauph. 
To be o'ercome would be the greatest curse  
If to outlive that Fate were not a worse.  
The first, perhaps, was Fortune's fault alone;  
But, Friend, the last too clearly is my own.  De Chast. 
If of that stain your heart has such a sense  
Let's wash it off in's blood, ere he go hence.  Dauph. 
Should the first act of life which he did give  
Meanly the Giver of his life deprive?  
Because blind Fortune guilty is to me  
Shall I, to my own self, more guilty be?  
No, my De Chastel; though he be my Foe,  
Yet he hath still most generously been so;  
And by no Acts of mine he ne'er shall die  
Unless by such as raised him up so high.  De Chast. 
Let me then, single, your revenge pursue.  Dauph. 
Who to a Crime consents does act it too.  
If it were fit, the act itself I'd do:  
And what's unfit, shall not be done by you.  De Chast. 
I hope, Sir, than the Treaty I begun  
Will put you in so high a posture soon  
That the disgrace, which but a few now sees,  
Shall in the Eyes of crowds of Witnesses  
Be so washed off as shall your sorrow cure.  Dauph. 
Thy hope's uncertain, my disgrace is sure.  
But what of good is meant for me by Fate  
Thou ought'st to hasten or 'twill come too late.  [Exeunt. Enter Warwick, and Tudor Disguised. Warw. 
Blamount desired us to expect him here.  Tudor. 
The King did never show us how to fear,  
Else we should tremble now at Blamount's stay.  Warw. 
Would Love had led the King a safer way.  
Kings, in whose chances Nations fall or rise,  
Hazard too much in private Gallantries;  
The odds against them checks their luck and skill.  Tudor. 
'Tis true, but Loves great Gamesters reckon still  
(Whilst boldly they the stake that's fairest choose)  
What they may win, and not what they may lose.  Enter Blamount. Blame. 
The King hath sent for you. I'll bring you straight  
Where he is safe out of the reach of Fate.  
You must to horse. I'll tell you what has past.  Tudor. 
You free us from a pain too great to last.  [Exeunt. Enter Princess Katherine, and Princess Arm. Prin. Kath. 
My fear did then my reason overthrow;  
I could scarce think, much less know what to do.  Prin. An. 
Why did you not by positive commands  
Restrain at least the King of England's hands?  Prin. Kath. 
Should I so much my Brother's safety prize  
As to procure it by mean remedies?  
Ah! since 'twas only Love brought Henry here,  
Should I have made his Love his Murderer?  
The Dauphin to the King injurious was:  
Heaven would not let those wrongs unpunished pass.  Prin. An. 
His wrongs more than your own your anger move.  Prin. Kath. 
That's what I owe my Virtue, not his Love.  Prin. An. 
I doubt the Dauphin some rash thing will do.  Prin. Kath. 
La Marr was to attend our interview;  
Who did, corrupted by De Chastel, bring  
The Dauphin to observe me with the King.  
I from the terror of their Fight did fly  
And met her, who, to salve her Treachery,  
(Having a full command of all the keys)  
Disposed their passage forth by several ways.  
Blamount with all the Friends that he could get  
I have engaged to second his Retreat.  
I hope my care in that will happy prove.  Prin. An. 
Where there is so much care there is some love.  Prin. Kath. 
I know not whether it be love or no,  
But such great things he did both say and do  
That I, dear friend, insensibly am led  
To think that may be true which now you said.  
Who can, when such a Victor will advance,  
Resist that virtue which does conquer France?  Prin. An. 
The proof he lately gave you of his flame,  
Madam, is such as is above a name.  
All trodden ways in Love he does despise  
As things below his passion and your Eyes.  Prin. Kath. 
Condemn not then my being in some pain  
Till I assurance of his safety gain:  
Which blessing that I may the sooner know  
This proof of Friendship mine does beg of you,  
That we dividedly ourselves concern  
Which of us first the welcome news shall learn.  Prin. An. 
I'll still obey whatever you command,  
And, what I hear, you straight shall understand.  Prin. Kath. 
May Heaven so guide the King that I may hear  
He is beyond the prospect of my fear!  [Exeunt.  

THE FOURTH ACT.  The Curtain being drawn up, The Duke of Burgundy, the Constable, Earl of Charaloys, and the Bishop of Arras are seen sitting at one side of a Table, attended by the French Officers of State; on the other side, are seated the Duke of Exeter, Duke of Bedford, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and the Earl of Warwick, attended by the English. Burg. 
SInce all, my Lords, is done by us and you  
Which is, as previous to a Treaty, due;  
Delays in the affair should be abhorred;  
Those impious are when peace may be restored:  
Therefore, my Lords, 'twere fit you would express  
On what conditions you will grant a peace.  Exet. 
Those who our right and strength well understand  
Need not be told, that we all France demand.  Const. 
You would by mere demand a question make;  
No Treaty gives all that success can take.  
This high resolve does more become the Field:  
'Tis nobler all to lose then all to yield.  Bedf. 
And you'll confess it is more nobly done,  
By Arms then Treaty to regain a Throne;  
But yet my Brother thought a Treaty good  
That his French Subjects might preserve their blood.  Archbish. 
That King proves well the justice of his claim  
Who, for his Subjects sakes, is deaf to Fame.  E. of Char. 
Had we no Plea but what prescription gives  
That were enough whilst any Frenchman lives.  Warw. 
In pleading so, my Lord, yourselves you wrong;  
That can no Title be but to the strong.  
For what can a protective aid afford  
Against the clearest Right, and sharpest Sword?  Bish. of Ar. 
From what pretence soe'er a claim you draw  
France knows no right above her Salic Law:  
A Law which is both rational, and old;  
It never was by time or force controlled.  Exet. 
You but imperfectly your story know;  
Or speaking thus, you hope that we do so.  
That Law (if made) was passed on Sala's banks;  
And was not made for France but for the Francs;  
A german people who in Camps were bred,  
And therefore still renounced a Female head.  Bedf. 
A Law, which only from armed Tumults rose,  
And which Heaven's Law and Nature's does oppose.  
My Lord of Canterbury 'tis in you  
To speak how France we challenge as our due.  Archbish. 
Philip the Fourth, as your own stories tell,  
Had Lewis, Philip, Charles, and Isabel;  
Edward the Second did his Daughter wed;  
His Sons did all to the French Crown succeed.  
Who, no Sons leaving, Philip, the Uncle's Son,  
Did from the Father's Daughter take the Crown;  
And kept it during injured Edward's life;  
To whom 'twas due, in justice, by his Wife.  
That Edward, dead, Edward the Third, his Son,  
Did, in his Mother's right, demand his Crown.  
Cressy and Poitiers to the World declare  
How Heaven esteemed his Sword in that just War.  
Death, Nature's Conqueror, did him subdue;  
And his great Son, the greater of the two.  
Soon after, Civil Wars our Isle destroyed:  
Our Swords against ourselves were long employed.  
Whilst sick with Civil War, Pride's worst disease,  
We bled in France, and lost three Provinces.  
But, now when those Intestine Wars are done,  
We come here to receive, or take our own.  Bedf. 
You boast your Salic Law so just, and old,  
That it by time or force was ne'er controlled.  
But tell, I pray, what part of it decreed  
That Martel should King Childerick succeed?  
Or how it could, if not by wrested shift,  
Make Capet Successor to Lew'is the Fifth,  
When Charles of Lorraine should have filled the place;  
The first Heir-male left of your Royal Race?  Exet. 
'Tis true, the States of France, by their decree,  
Did call King Capet to the Monarchy.  
Who wisely then did Royal In'trest save,  
Making them think that what they paid, they gave:  
For so to his just right he joined their power,  
By which he vanquished his Competitor.  
Thus when by Arms the Salic Law was tried  
Heaven judged the Title to the Female side:  
For the chief right which Capet had to plead  
Was that he did King Lewis Sister wed.  Archbish. 
From this great Capet, who that Law repealed,  
All your succeeding Kings their Crowns have held.  
By which, my Lords, we think we clearly show,  
If then his claim was good, ours now is so.  Warw. 
Or, if you grant the States by their decree  
Can give to whom they will this Monarchy,  
If you their power so highly will advance,  
We need but conquer to have right to France.  Burg. 
Since you, my Lords, so pry into our right,  
How comes your Red-rose now to rule your White?  
Blame not what France to that Duke Charles has done  
When a Lancastrian head does wear your Crown.  
What by both sides may equally be said  
That neither, as his proper right, can plead.  
But if your Roses Heaven should e'er unite  
Then you may challenge France with better right.  
None of the present Line we will admit;  
The house of York can only plead for it.  Exet. 
All of that house allow my Nephew's right;  
And, under him, they for this Empire fight.  
If Fate should them to England's Throne advance  
They shall possess, with it, the Throne of France:  
By them as Subjects he is served and feared.  Burg. 
When they are Kings again they shall be heard.  
My Lords, that all this vain discourse may cease,  
What say you, if, t'advance you to a peace,  
We give your King the Princes Katherine,  
And with her such vast Treasure we assign,  
As may for ever all your Title buy  
To Anjou, Aquitain, and Normandy.  Bedf. 
How came such abject offers in your thought?  
One ought not to be sold, nor th' other bought.  Burg. 
Then know, my Lords, the War you must pursue;  
The Sword must end what Treaty could not do.  He riseth, and the rest after him. Exet. 
'Tis to the Sword we must have our recourse!  
Where right's denied 'tis justice to use force.  Bedf. 
Pippin and Capet such sharp Swords did draw  
As twice repealed this Pagan-Salique-Law.  
My Brother then may charge it as your crime  
If he presume to do it the third time.  
His Sword you'll quickly feel as sharp as theirs;  
Since force must plead the right of Femal-heirs.  
My Lords, farewell! we cannot here agree!  Salutes the English Lords. 
But they'll begin th' eusuing War at Sea.  
Their Fleet's prepared; and, by this morning Post,  
Our Navy too does call me to the Coast.  [Exeunt. Enter the Queen, and Countess of La Marr. La Marr. 
So far this Treaty has already gone  
That the Burgundian did assure your Son  
The English Treaty never should succeed;  
Which with the Dauphin's passion so agreed  
As he has offered him to share all France  
And to forget the Death of Orleans.  
This, Madam, but too clearly let's you see  
They mean to force you from the Regency:  
Which the false Duke soon after will enjoy:  
First he'll divide, and then your house destroy.  Queen. 
This service, my La Marr, is far above  
All Presents I can make you, but my Love.  
I thought De Chastel had so fierce a mind  
As he to Love could never have inclined;  
But in that thought I find I injure you:  
This conquest only to your Eyes is due.  La Marr. 
Madam, 'twas only Love which could have pressed  
This fatal secret from De Chastel's breast.  
Nor would I e'er to him have faithless been,  
But to save France, and to preserve my Queen.  Queen. 
Thy Queen, half lost, thy Friendship does restore;  
And yet thy Friendship must oblige her more.—  Enter Burgundy, and Constable. The Queen casts her eyes on Burgundy. 
That haughty Burgundy shall shortly Mourn.—  
Kind Cousin! you have made a quick return.—  Burg. 
The Dukes of Bedford and of Exeter,  
Joined with their talking Bishop, did appear  
So much averse to all that we could speak  
As we in Duty did the Treaty break;  
Duty to you. We offered all you sent,  
But only France can give their pride content.  Queen. 
Since these bold Foes take pleasure to make War  
(Proud that they dare do worse than others dare,  
And prouder with success) let us provide  
T' advance our merit and debase their pride.  Burg. 
Madam, in this just cause I shall afford  
Th' assistance of my Counsel and my Sword.  Queen. 
It is on those my chief dependence lies:  
For you, my Lord, both powerful are and wise.  
Prepare for Action, and let Treaties cease:  
The wise may lose by War, fools lose by Peace.  Burg. 
The better to obey what you desire  
Excuse me, Madam, if I now retire.  [Exit. Queen. 
He being gone, my Lord, I'll let you know  
What France, and I, do to this Lady owe.  
The Duke has broke the English Treaty now  
That to the Dauphin he may keep his Vow.  
And false De Chastel made 'em both agree  
Out of my hands to force the regency.  
And then between themselves they are to share  
The high employments both of Peace and War.  Const. 
This Duke does all my faculties amaze:  
Yet still he loved to walk in crooked ways.  Queen. 
They all shall sink and their own ruin find  
Within that depth which they for me designed.  
My Secretary Perrot understands  
The Art of counterfeiting Seals and hands:  
I'll make him straight write to the English King,  
As from the Duke, proposing every thing  
Which false De Chastel offered from my Son;  
Yet when all promised by the King is done,  
Though less than what my Son did ere propose  
Him he'll forsake, and with the English close.  
La Marr shall entertain De Chastel so  
As of the Duke he may suspicious grow.  La Marr. 
Some doubts which seem perplexed I will unfold;  
I'll say, he with the King does Treaty hold.  Queen. 
Which can no other way be brought to light  
But by those Letters ta'en which he may write:  
These Letters shall, though forged, authentic seem;  
And must be intercepted too by him.  La Marr. 
This will between them raise a jealousy.  Const. 
And when that seed is sown 'twill never die.  
The Dauphin's Soul I never understood  
If he revenge not this affront with blood.  Queen. 
My Lord, withdraw, and write with instant care  Exit Constable. 
The Letter for Du Perrot: you, La Marr,  
Shall soothe De Chastel with your former Art,  
And subtly play yourself in all your part.  [Exit La Marr. 
Great troubles to a Throne the way prepare;  
And greater troubles must preserve us there.  
Yet the Ambitious envy those who reign:  
They know the Pomp of Crowns, but not the pain.  [Exit. The Princess Katherine, meeting Princess Arm. Prin. Kath. 
Madam, What News?  Prin. An. 
The worst that I could bring:  
They have dissolved the Treaty with the King.  
Peace is quite fled, which did before but hide  
Her cheerful face. The Sword must all decide.  
Thou forward hope, Wars voice has called thee back!  Prin. Kath. 
I ne'er could think suspense was such a rack.  Prin. An. 
Suspense, in any thing, a pain does prove;  
But turns a torment when 'tis mixed with love.  Enter La Marr in haste. La Marr. 
Madam, I doubt the Queen and Duke have heard  
Of that disguise in which the King appeared.  
The busy Whisp'rers run from place to place;  
And fear, or news, is seen in every Face.  
Small Parties meet; then to a throng they grow,  
As Clouds unite before a storm does blow.  Enter Blamount. Blame. 
Madam, I left the Dauphin with the Queen;  
They have this morning in a Tempest been:  
Their meeting was both violent and short:  
Your Brother instantly will leave the Court.  
He said he would no longer vainly strive,  
But boldly take what some deny to give.  
Safely the Duke th' event of this attends,  
And his apartment fills with Guards and Friends.  Enter Earl Charelloys. E. of Char. 
Madam, just now I from the Dauphin came:  
His Friends are kindled with his anger's flame.  
He is to sudden Execution bent;  
To Deeds so swift as he'll too late repent.  
He puts on wings for what he will pursue;  
And says my Father does usurp his due:  
And fierce De Chastel too (which all admire)  
Against his Nature strives to quench this fire.  Enter French Lady. Lady. 
Madam, you are expected by the Queen.  Prin. Kath. 
This storm will fall as soon as it is seen.  
My Lord, I'll strive to make the Queen apply  
To this distemper a quick remedy.  Charl. 
I'll still near my suspicious Father stay;  
Too much suspicion does itself betray.  Prin. An. 
Brother, I'll follow! Madam, we in vain  
In storms of Love of other storms complain.  
Love's Queen did rise from the Tempestuous Sea;  
Which shows that Love in storms must ever be.  [Exeunt. Enter Tudor. Tudor. 
By what the King related I may see  
The Princess is for ever lost to me.  
'Tis evident she has her Love resigned  
To his great Title and his greater mind.  
Why should I thus, what she has done deplore?  
She did but that which I had done before.  
But, Fate, thou art unjust in making me  
To quit the Love yet keep the jealousy:  
Which is of Love's fair tree the foulest fruit;  
A Branch whose nourishment offends the root.  
Shall jealousy a power o'er judgement gain  
Though it does only in the fancy reign?  
With knowledge thou art inconsistent still;  
The minds foul Monster whom fair truth does kill.  
Thy tyranny subverts even Nature's Laws;  
For oft thou hast effects without a cause.  
And, which thy strength or weakness does detect,  
Thou often hast a cause without effect.  
In all thou dost, thou ever dost amiss,  
Seest what is not, or seest not that which is.  
Whilst thou dost live sickness does thee pursue;  
And he who cures thee needs must kill thee too.  Enter King. King. 
Tudor! you must not think my Friendship rude  
Though it pursue you to your solitude.  
Some fatal sorrow has your heart oppressed:  
Divide it, and send half into my Breast.  Tudor. 
What is it can invade me in excess,  
But joy, whilst I your favour, Sir, possess?  King. 
If my warm favour has your blessing made  
Why leave you then that Sun to seek this shade?  Tudor. 
Sir, from your bounties I retire to show  
I would prevent th'increase of what I owe.  
I study here to pay my former score;  
And I avoid your making of it more.  King. 
Tudor, I no such answer will admit;  
I must be paid with truth and not with wit.  
The truth of Friendship has forsook the Earth:  
Thou dost dissemble thy accustomed mirth.  
A sudden sigh does thy feigned smiles detect:  
Nature betrays more Art than I suspect.  Tudor. 
Let me not, Sir, be for that shape despised  
In which I am even to myself, disguised.  King. 
Friendship above all ties does bind the heart;  
And faith in Friendship is the noblest part.  
'Tis ill, unasked, not to have told your pain;  
But worse, when asked, if your excuses feign.  
Farewell, frail man; our Friendship here must end.  
You wrong your Honour, when you wrong a Friend.  King offers to go out. Tudor. 
Stay, Sir, and to your virtue I'll unfold  
The saddest story that was ever told.  King. 
Why with thy King should there such trifling be;  
With Friendship too, which sacred is as he?  Tudor. 
My grief is yet close prisoner in my Breast;  
Whilst there confined, 'twill only me molest;  
But may disquiet you when got from home;  
Complaints, when past relief grow troublesome.  King. 
That grief does far all other griefs transcend  
Which greater grows when trusted to a Friend.  
Friendship in noble hearts would never reign  
If friendship's duty should be friendship's pain.  
For ease of sorrow Friends from Heaven were sent.  
Tudor, dispatch, and try th' experiment.  Tudor. 
Why should you press me Sir? it will not out.—  King. 
Those fear their Cure who their Physicians doubt.  Tudor. 
Force me not, Sir, to tell you what can be  
No ease to you, and yet a rack to me.  King. 
Tell it I say!  Tudor. 
I'll tell it though I die—  
I am in Love.  King. 
In Love? and so am I.  
Is this the strangest story e'er was known?  Tudor. 
Pray Heaven you think not so ere it be done.  King. 
Proceed.  Tudor. 
She Sir, who does my heart subdue  
Is by my Friend adored with passion too:  
And, which is worse, his passion he did tell  
To me, ere mine I durst to him reveal.  
And, worser yet, that Friend does me employ  
T' assist his Love whilst I my own destroy.  
I lose my Mistress if I condescend  
To this, not doing it I lose my Friend.  
But, which is worst of all, I'll not deny  
He does deserve her so much more than I  
That should she, for my sake, make him despair  
She must be more unjust than she is fair.  
And, whilst she does admit of my address,  
The wrong I do destroys my happiness.  King. 
'Tis difficult. What hast thou fixed upon?  Tudor. 
What I thought just I have already done.  King. 
Why then is so much time in sorrow spent?  
For what is justly done canst thou repent?  Tudor. 
In what I did such justice I have shown  
That I would do't again, were it undone.  
But, Sir, I cannot yet that grief remove  
Which springs from Friendship that contests with Love.  
As after storms the Sea does troubled show  
Though the fierce Winds, which moved it, cease to blow.  King. 
No wonder griefs wild Sea so high is wrought  
Since in your Breast Friendship and Love have fought.  
But tell me now thy Friends and Mistress name  
For whom yourself you nobly overcame.  
He who you think deserves much more than you  
I must conclude deserves my Friendship too.  Tudor. 
Oh, Sir! in that your pardon I implore:  
Too much is said; force me to say no more.  King. 
Tudor, that man must high in merit be  
For whom you'll do, more than you'll trust with me,  Tudor kneels. Tudor. 
Forgive me, Sir, if more I dare not say:  
Let me in silence mourn my Life away.  King. 
Rise, but no more I thee my Friend will call:  
For he's no Friend, if not a Friend in all.  
In part thou show'st me what I whole would see;  
A half Friend's worse than a whole Enemy.  
Thy silence by a stricter way I'll break.  
By thy Allegiance I command thee speak!  Tudor. 
Oh do not think my Soul is sunk so low  
That aught can act what Friendship could not do.  King. 
Thy want of it, this passion from me draws:  
Excuse th'effects of which thou art the cause.  
No longer, Tudor, at this rate contend  
With him who is thy King, and more, thy Friend.  [Embraces him. Tudor. 
The charming name of Friend will make me speak  
When, even my King, could not my silence break.  
You are that Friend whose name I would conceal;  
Who is the Mistress than I need not tell.  
She too did this revealment, Sir, constrain:  
What but my pain could have disclosed my pain?  King. 
Oh why so late dost thou this truth avow?  Tudor. 
I fear too early I have told it now.  King. 
Thus to have used thy Friendship breeds a pain  
Which nothing can transcend but her disdain.  Tudor. 
But had I told it sooner, Sir, to you  
Could you have then done more than you can now?  
Since all I ask, for what you make me say,  
Is but your pardon that I durst obey.  King. 
My ignorance alone has made me do  
What Love itself could not have forced me to.  Tudor. 
Though, Sir, the Charms of Lovers hopes are sweet,  
Yet mine I freely prostrate at your feet.  King. 
My Rival thus in Love thou shun'st to be  
Yet thus in honour dost outrival me.  
I to no Monarch ere that glory gave;  
Much less my Subject shall that glory have.  
If, Tudor, you would now suppress your flame,  
To show your Friendship, or exalt your fame,  
That act on neither score I will allow;  
For I'm in both, as much concerned as you.  
So greatly, Tudor, thou hast done for me  
As nought can pay it but the same for thee.  Tudor. 
I cannot, Sir, imagine your design.  King. 
To be your Advocate as you were mine,  
And give you leave your passion to pursue.  
And, which is more, I do command you too.  Tudor. 
Forgive me if this offer I refuse.  King. 
Resolve to take it or thy King to lose.  Tudor. 
Then I'll embrace it, and dispute no more.  
And give me leave a pardon to implore  
From all the better World who Lovers are,  
From all who shall be so, and all that were,  
That I against them did so guilty prove  
As to consider aught in Love, but Love.  King. 
Tudor, this gallantry obliges more  
Than all thy pleading for me did before.  
But, if I ever can attend again  
That sovereign Beauty which does o'er us reign,  
I'll give her then such Characters of thee  
As shall out-speak what thou hast said of me.  
We then will be each other's Advocate;  
And from her sentence each receive his Fate.  Tudor. 
Though this is more than I could hope; yet still  
That which revives my hopes my hopes does kill.  
For when describing me, you please to add  
All that you think is likely to persuade,  
Even that a surer way will rather prove  
To show your Virtue then advance my Love.  King. 
Fear not, you may succeed; though drawing you  
I shall but Copy what for me you drew.  Tudor. 
Yet those will find, who justly balance things,  
I only Subjects taught, but you teach Kings!  [Exeunt.  

THE FIFTH ACT.  Enter the King, the Duke of Exeter, the Duke of Bedford, and Tudor. King. 
OUR good successes come together still;  
And, as the good concur, so do the ill.  
I have observed it, Uncle, have not you?  Feet. 
'Tis, Sir, as worthy notice as 'tis true.  King. 
This seems, methinks, t'accuse their ignorance  
Who attribute our great events to chance:  
For though it may, when slowly one event  
Follows another, look like accident;  
Yet when together many swiftly join  
It shows a power which rules us by design.  
Whilst we succeed at Land, to Heaven we owe  
The Triumph of a Naval overthrow.  
Brother, your tongue may claim the right alone  
To tell what Heaven by your brave hand has done.  Bedf. 
But little fame, where many Conqueror's were,  
Could justly fall to any single share.  
When we had sailed your Fleet in sight of France,  
From the Seins mouth the French did straight advance:  
Their number pleased us whom it meant to fright;  
We joyed at any thing that made them fight.  
But whilst to gain the Wind both Navies plied,  
Both, to the Southward, a third Fleet descried.  
Whose course, by bearing, to our Fleet was bent:  
We thought to them, they feared to us, 'twas sent.  
When drawing near us, 'twas perceived by all,  
Their Flags displayed the Arms of Portugal.  
That prosperous King, your Kinsman, and your Friend  
His Royal Navy to your aid did send,  
Hearing the French had rigged a numerous Fleet.  King. 
This shows his Friendship, like his virtue, great:  
I am obliged, and more I could not be  
Then by a Debt, great as your Victory.  Bedf. 
The Valiant Bourbon, Admiral of France,  
Shrunk not at this, but swiftli'er did advance.  
That shout with which we did their Navy greet,  
Th'affrighted shore did Echo to their Fleet.  
At the first shock, some ships we sunk and burned;  
Our order soon was to a Chaos turned.  
The Portugal's still like the English fought;  
Envying our Valour, or else by it taught.  
A thousand Deeds were worthy in that fight  
Though not, Sir, of your hands, yet of your fight.  
But what the French performed, worthy your praise,  
Served but the more your Glory, Sir, to raise.  
For your resistless Genius there did reign,  
And made us gather Laurels on the Main:  
As prosperous Stars, though absent to the sense,  
Bless those they shine for by their influence.  
Five hundred Ships were sunk or taken there  
Whose Flags seem Wreaths for you, the Conqueror.  King. 
This high success at Sea, which Heaven has sent,  
Has made me Master of that Element.  
When Monarchs have at Land a Battle lost  
It may, to raise new Troops, some Treasure cost.  
But to repair lost Fleets is not so cheap;  
Woods are a Crop which men but once can reap.  
That Prince, whose Flags are bowed to on the Seas,  
Of all King's shores keeps in his hand the Keys:  
No King can him, he may all Kings invade;  
And on his Will depends their Peace and Trade.  
Trade, which does Kings and Subjects wealth increase;  
Trade, which more necessary is then Peace.  Exet. 
If the World's trade may to our hand be brought  
Though purchased by a War 'tis cheaply bought.  Tudor. 
He who an Island rules and not the Sea,  
Is not a King, and may a Prisoner be.  Bedf. 
In this Victorious Fleet your Parliament  
Have such supplies of Men and Treasure sent  
That France will now in humble posture seek  
The Treaty which her former Pride did break.  King. 
Those Royal Limbs will not their head forsake;  
My Glory they their own kind Interest make.  
Their Love does with their Duty nobly strive;  
And giving thus, unasked, they doubly give—  
Oh Tudor! though my Sword at Land and Sea  
Does conquer others, Love does conquer me.  
Whilst under his resistless power I groan  
Fate cannot make me joyful with a Crown.  Tudor. 
May still the greatness of your fame increase;  
And, for your quiet, may your love grow less.  Enter Warwick. Warw. 
From the French Court Count Blamount, Sir, is sent  
And newly is alighted at your Tent.  King. 
Admit him, but he soon may hasten home  
If from the false Burgundian he is come.  [Exit Warwick: 
A Prince worthy of nothing but of hate;  
Early in promise, in performance late.  
He cheaply rates my Honour with his own▪  
And meanly thinks that I would sell a Crown.  
In wronging his high Birth he injures me  
And gives my Sword a right to Burgundy.  Enter Warwick, Blamount, Chareloys Disguised. Blame. 
If a surprising wonder may be news,  
Such as does joy and horror too infase,  
I bring it, Sir: for he, whose head and Sword  
Made War and Peace the Creatures of his word;  
The Great Burgundian who in France did reign,  
Is by appointment of the Dauphin slain.  King. 
Heaven's hand is sure, though it the stroke defer.  Blame. 
The face of France does full of change appear.  King. 
This Murder sudden was: but what late crime  
Could urge the Dauphin thus to Murder him?  Blame. 
The Duke (who said, Treaties would ne'er advance  
That Peace with you which was desired by France),  
Did therefore for the Dauphin's Friendship sue.  
jyon appointed was for interview;  
To which the Duke did instantly repair;  
There to resolve how to contrive the War.  
The Dauphin met at the appointed time;  
But, whilst the Duke humbly saluted him,  
De Chastel, unprovoked by deed or word,  
In the Duke's heart did sheathe his guilty Sword:  
And then the Dauphin publicly did own  
That this strange act by his command was done;  
And said it was a justice due to France  
Because the Duke had Murdered Orleans.  King. 
Through what false Optics do men's passions look?  
In this wild justice he out-sined the Duke:  Blame. 
De Chastel talked (though few did credit it)  
Of Letters taken which the Duke had writ,  
Th' express confessed that they to you were meant,  
In which he offered (if you would consent  
To what he there, Sir, did propose to you,)  
He would unthrone the King and Dauphin too.  King. 
I by the Duke have been so coarsely used  
That what he had proposed I had refused.  
Will not the Son revenge the Father's fall?  [Chareloys pulls off his Disguise. Charl. 
Yes, Sir, and does for your assistance call.  
The blood of sovereign Princes basely spilled  
Calls loud to Monarchs to revenge the Guilt.  
My reason, not my passion, makes me fly  
From a false Friend to a brave Enemy.  
If you'll revenge high blood, ignobly shed,  
The Crown of France I'll settle on your head.  
And, when you wed the Princess Katherine,  
The States shall then entail it on your Line.  
Of those most are my Friends and my Allies;  
And they are all so Noble and so Wise,  
That with one voice they will aloud disdain  
The proud injustice of a Murderers reign.  King. 
Your Father's faults I'll cast into his Grave;  
And will revenge that blood I could not save.  
And since you are so generous and just,  
That, without Treaty, you my honour trust,  
You shall, Sir, on a King's unblemished word,  
Enjoy my Friendship, and engage my Sword.  Char. 
Where faith is wanting this would satisfy;  
On which, as on Truth's Pillars, I rely.  King. 
Th' example of your worth will make a Friend.  
But what, Sir, does the Dauphin now intend?  Char. 
This fatal Murder, Sir, he did design  
Just when the Queen, the Princess Katherine,  
My Sister Anne, and I, (t'avoid the heat  
And noise of Paris) did to Meaux retreat:  
Some Troops to seize on us he thither sent:  
One of their Leaders (as to Meaux they went,  
Being my private Friend) did by a Post  
Tell me, unless we fled, we all were lost:  
And that we should not then towards Paris fly,  
For on that Road some other Troops did lie  
To intercept us if we thither fled.  King. 
This root of mischief soon will shoot and spread.  Charl. 
At this I found the Queen's amazement great:  
For being now cut off from her retreat,  
Her wisdom could not teach her what to do:  
I than proposed we all should fly to you,  
As the securest way to scape his rage;  
And so your Virtue by our trust engage;  
Virtue so known as would her fears control.  King. 
Trust is the strongest Bond upon the Soul:  
That sacred tie has Virtue oft begot;  
It binds where 'tis, and makes it where 'twas not.  Charl. 
I said she might, to break her Son's design,  
Give you for Bride the Princess Katherine:  
And urge th' Estates t' entail the Crown on you:  
This to your right, that to your love is due.  
This done, what could resist your Arms and mine?  
As she considered how she should incline  
Clermount came in, disguised; in whose known care  
Her Wealth and Jewels lay; who did declare  
Her Treasure was surprised, by some who said  
That they the Dauphin in that act obeyed;  
Who would employ that wealth, vilely procured,  
So as that France should have her peace assured.  King. 
The Dauphin, in his rage or want, has done  
What was below him as a Prince or Son.  Charl. 
Though she this wrong and loss did calmly bear,  
Yet the high Dictates of Revenge and Fear  
Made her resolve immediately to do  
What I with reason first advised her to.  
And now at Troy, the Queen and Princess are;  
To which the Dauphin will Transport the War.  
A Garrison of mine secures that Town,  
And since 'tis mine you know it is your own.  King. 
'Tis chiefly to your favour I must owe  
My being blessed in Love and Conquest too.  Charl. 
'T were fit, Sir, that you sent some Troops of Horse  
The Garrison of Troy to reinforce.  King. 
I'll lead them, Sir, myself: all that are mine  
In France, aae but the Guards of Katherine:  
My Duty else she might in question bring.  Charl. 
'Tis spoken like a Lover and a King.  
Blamount I'll send before that she may know  
What Honour to her you intent to do.  [Exit Blamount. 
When you to Troy are come it shall appear  
I will perform more than I promised here.  King. 
You may augment my debt, as you think fit,  
But nothing can increase my sense of it,  
Unless your favour, Sir, I could incline  
To make my Brother's joys keep time with mine:  
His Love to Princess Anne wants your consent.  Charl. 
She made me in their Loves her confident:  
And in your Brother I shall think her blessed.  King. 
This, Sir, unites our bloods and interest.  Bedf. 
This grant (great Prince) my happiness secures.  King. 
It makes my happiness as much as yours.  
Now, Tudor, if our prosperous Stars design  
That we shall both see beauteous Katherine,  
I will perform all that I promised thee:  
And when thy story she has heard from me  
(In which by all her truth I'll do thee right)  
We then our Supplications will unite,  
That she (our Judge) will only him prefer  
Whom she believes is least unworthy her:  
Without regarding in the cause we bring  
That thou my Subject art, or I thy King.  Tudor. 
In Virtue, Sir, so much you me outshine  
That you all other Motives may decline.  King. 
Brother, 'tis fit the Duke, with you and I,  
Should on the Princess wait immediately.  
Tudor's Brigade the Princess Guard shall be;  
And with the Army you must follow me.  [Exeunt. Enter Queen, Princess Katherine, Princess Arm, Countess La Marr. Queen. 
Our sins make us defenceless, and we fly  
For our protection to our Enemy.  
Thy Laws, Oh Heaven! have I offended so  
That thou hast made my Son my greatest Foe?  
Into the World I have the Monster brought;  
And now no sufferings can transcend that fault.  Prin. Kath. 
Madam, you make, whilst thus you bear his crime,  
Our grief more just for you then yours for him.  La Marr. 
If he should hear you grieve in this excess,  
The triumph of his malice would increase.  Prin. An. 
My Duty has th'assault of grief withstood;  
For since his fury shed my Father's blood,  
That wasted time which you employ to grieve  
I, to designed revenge, more justly give:  
Let all your sorrow in such thoughts expire.  Queen. 
Grief is the Fuel and Revenge the fire.  Prin. An. 
Think then on all the Crimes which he has done,  
And let those thoughts cancel the name of Son.  Queen. 
Since fallen so low from what is great or good  
I hate his Crimes more than I love his blood.  Enter Blamount. Blame. 
Madam, my Duty has provoked my speed.  
The King and Duke most strictly are agreed;  
And both this night will wait upon you here.  Queen. 
This happy news suppresses all my fear,  
And makes me hope, assisted by their Fate,  
That I shall live to punish what I hate.  Blame. 
Those Troops, now on their March, he does design  
As Guards t' attend the Princess Katherine:  
And therefore would not send, but leads them here,  
That his respect and love may both appear.  Queen. 
We were, when to this Monarch we did trust,  
Kind to ourselves and to his Virtue just.  
Blamount, for his reception straight prepare  
All that can joy and our respect declare.  
Daughter, you must a while retire with me;  
I have some Words which need your privacy.  [Exeunt. Enter Constable, and Bishop of Arras. Arras. 
Our Ecclesiastic States are all agreed:  
This day the Dauphin for his bloody deed  
Will summoned be to answer what was done.  Const. 
I have the Peers to that conclusion won;  
And those who represent the Commons too  
Will now not slowly yield to what we do.  
I'll lose my judgement if he dares appear.  Arras. 
He loses his, and life, in coming here;  
This murder has incensed them to the height.  Const. 
All hate a Prince who violates his Faith.  
The people's temper does occasion give  
T' obey those orders we did now receive.  
I find already that the most incline  
The King should marry Princess Katherine;  
And on their Issue would the Crown entail.  Arras. 
The Dauphin's crime will make that King prevail.  Const. 
Rather than bow beneath a Murderers' power  
Let's to the Throne advance our Conqueror:  
The Queen and Duke expect it at your hands.  Arras. 
I never durst obey unjust commands.  Const. 
Do you then think that those commands are such?  Arras. 
If you think so, my Lord, you wrong me much.  
My judgement by a better guide was led  
When I our Annals and Records had read:  
For than I doubted that since Charles the Fair  
Our Kings insensibly Usurpers were.  
The Crown (if truth did dictate what I read)  
Belonged to the Victorious Edward's head:  
Which no prescription from his Line should take.  
I'll therefore to this change no scruple make.  
But if the Dauphin were the rightful Heir  
You might of my obedience then despair;  
For Reason's Maxim I must ever own;  
No King can make a forfeit of his Crown.  
Much less can I admit the State's Decree  
Has power to give away this Monarchy.  Const. 
My justice shall, now I am taught by you,  
Perform what I resolved revenge should do.  
My Lord, let's go where all our Friends are met;  
And jointly pay to Heaven this double debt.  [Exeunt. Enter King, Princess Katherine, Tudor. King. 
Madam, I have injurious been to him  
As far as ignorance could make a crime:  
I did employ him in my suit to you;  
But knew not then, that he adored you too:  
But I declare (which some amends may be)  
That he, at least, in all things equal me  
Unless in Title; but 'tis greater far  
A Crown to merit then a Crown to wear.  
Can Title in that Balance ere prevail  
Where Love is Merit, and you hold the Scale?  
I wave whatever may your favour move  
Except the Title of the highest Love.  
Speak for thyself if I have lessened thee.  Tudor. 
Only my silence, Sir, should plead for me.  King. 
Thy love, when I employed thee, was unknown:  
I minded no man's sorrows but mine own;  
Nor where so many shafts were shot in me  
Could think, any before had wounded thee.  Tudor. 
All, Sir, that in my cause is said by you  
At once is for me, and against me too.  
Howe'er, I'll rather speak then quite despair;  
Since she is just and you my Rival are:  
Yet, Sir, this difference to my case is due,  
You speak for me, but I resign for you.  Prin. Kath. 
He who resigns his Love, though for his King,  
Does, as he is a Lover, a low thing:  
But, as a Subject, a high Crime does do;  
Being at once, Subject and Rebel too:  
For, whilst to Regal power he does submit,  
He casts off Love, a greater power than it.  Tudor. 
I fear you now are glad of a pretence  
To punish what you cannot recompense.  
Else could you think Love's power I do not know  
Because my Love all others does outgo?  
If I by that seem guilty in your Eye,  
Oh happy guilt which raises Love so high!  
For I but show in what I now have done,  
That I your Interest prize above my own.  Prin. Kath. 
But justly I admire how you can prove  
So true to Friendship, and so false to Love;  
Since in effect they both are but the same,  
Only the Sex gives them a different name.  Tudor. 
You Friendship tax for being too sublime,  
And make its duty, even to Love a Crime.  Prin. Kath. 
Your King does give you a brave Rivals leave;  
But you seem loath that licence to receive:  
Of these, which for my wonder is more fit;  
The leave he gave, or your not using it?  Tudor. 
The Giver may such gifts as these esteem:  
I can, but by refusing, merit them:  
And, Madam, since 'tis evident that you  
Can never pay what to us both is due,  
Why will you call that act in me a crime  
By which we both may justice do to him?  
Nor blame me that my Friendship's debt I paid  
By thus resigning what I never had.  
Let me my death without reproaches crave.  Prin. Kath. 
At once you my disdain, and pardon have.  Tudor. 
But why should you disdain that which to you  
Obedience shows, to him my Duty too?  Prin. Kath. 
It is a Duty he will not receive.  Tudor. 
But you, to love you, have denied me leave.  Prin. Kath. 
He who makes love at a true Lover's height  
Does ne'er ask leave, but takes it as his right.  Tudor. 
Have you designed in what you'd have me do  
To make me lose my King and Mistress too?  
In losing of the last I'm so accursed  
As you'll in pity let me keep the first.  Prin. Kath. 
I'd have you, Sir, in that which I intent  
Express that you did merit such a Friend:  
I would have had you too, to let him see  
That you were not unworthy to love me.  
But, making such an ill Retreat, you seem  
No more to merit bravely me, or him.  
What greater thing or meaner could you do  
Then dare at once to love and quit me too?  
I would have had you like yourself appear,  
And not with friendship's name disguise your fear.  
Nor tell him he to your respect does owe  
That which alone my justice does bestow.  
I would have had you nobly fall by it,  
And not thus meanly, uncompelled, submit▪  Tudor. 
Madam, with you no longer I'll contend;  
Since in the way we differ, not the end.  
Sir, though she thinks my condemnation fit;  
Yet, without sighs, I to her doom submit:  
For one joys loss another joy secures:  
What loses me her favour, merits yours.  King. 
Whilst, Tudor, you for me your claim deny  
I gain the Field, and you the Victory:  
Yours is the Nobler, mine the happier share,  
I'm the obliged, but you th' obliger are.  Prin. Kath. 
In leaving me, as worthy of your Friend,  
You to the utmost rate my worth commend.  
Whilst with that value I to him am brought  
You show a Friendship worthy to be fought.  
Be but my Friend, as you to him have been,  
Letting out Love to keep your Friendship in,  
And make forsaken Love contented seem,  
Then I'll your Friendship, Sir, like Love esteem.  Enter Queen, Chareloys, Duke of Bedford, and Princess Arm. Queen. 
I'm come to tell you, Sir, that we have signed  
All that can France to your protection bind.  
The States have judged to banishment my Son:  
And, as we promised, have entailed the Crown.  Charl. 
And, Sir, in all their names, one from each State  
Attending both your Thrones, shall supplicate  
That they in public their Decree may give,  
Which only from their justice you receive.  Queen. 
That public form, Sir, may a little wait  
Till we our Nuptial Rites shall Celebrate;  
My thoughts are fully to my Daughter known.  King. 
But from herself would I might know her own.  Prin. Kath. 
I of your Love shall too unworthy be  
When I deny that it has conquered me.  King. 
He who the glory has to conquer you  
Does, without War, more than the World subdue.  Bedf. 
Heaven meant not you alone should happy be.  
Behold, Sir, what it has reserved for me.  
Confirmed by her, and by her Brother too.  Charl. 
The gift is perfect when allowed by you.  King. 
I can but add the Ceremonial part;  
You had the substance when you had the heart.  Prin. Ann. 
I cannot add to what I gave before,  
Unless in saying I could give no more.  Queen. 
Crowds of impatient Subjects wait within  
To see the Nuptials of their King and Queen:  
The Sacred Prelate in the Temple stays,  
And longs to mingle Myrtle with your Bays.  
It were offensive to admit delay—  
She, Sir, will follow when I lead the way.  [Exeunt. Enter the Dauphin. Dauph. 
Revenge and pride my reason have betrayed;  
And both have ruled, what both should have obeyed.  
This Duke did with his life his sins resign,  
Which, in his blood, are written down for mine.  
Revenge! of all thy Charms, Oh let me find  
But one t'appease the Tempest of my mind.  
Let none to the success of mischief trust;  
I'll rather be unhappy then unjust.  Enter De Chastel hastily. De Chast. 
You cannot your new Levies now employ  
To storm or to besiege the Queen in Troyé.  
Sir, to prevent our courage and her fear,  
The King of England is in person there.  
The Bride's prepared, the King and Duke agreed;  
The trembling States have treacherously decreed,  
During your Father's life the King shall be  
Admitted to a boundless Regency.  
And, after his decease their Law declares  
The Crown shall fall to Henry and his Heirs.  
The Queen (to whom they vast Revenues give)  
Will, quitting power, rich and obscurely live.  Dauph. 
Can her revenge alone incline her to  
What right and nature could not make her do?  De Chast. 
Spend not that time in blaming what she does  
Which fortune for a fair retreat allows.  
The Duke of Exeter with all his horse  
Directly to your Camp now bends his course.  
Th' Alarm of such a growing force so near  
Gave your new Troops a good excuse for fear.  
O'ertake your time before it runs too far.  
Sir, 'tis a granted principle in War  
That Chiefs, not strong enough t' engage in fight,  
Should still retire before the Foe's in sight.  
Of all Wars tasks the hardest is Retreat,  
Where fear does our worst Foe, Disorder, meet.  
Retire, Sir, lest men say, we proudly stayed  
Too long for those of whom we were afraid.  Dauph. 
Must the first Act which I designed to do  
Be foiled, and e'er it is attempted too?  De Chast. 
Let not one look of Fortune cast you down:  
She were not fortune if she still did frown.  
Such as do braveli'est bear her scorns a while  
Are those on whom, at last, she most will smile.  Dauph. 
Raise then the Camp! Fortune, that leads the way  
Of Time's whole progress, can give us a day.  [Exeunt. The Curtain Falls. Two Heralds appear opposite to each other in the Balconies near the Stage. 1. Her. 
Herald! What summons have you to proclaim?  
Whom would you summon now, and in whose name?  2. 
All that are English, all that are French appear!  1. 
I am to summon those Great Nations here.  2. 
And I must summon them to come before  
Henry the Fifth, both King and Conqueror.  
All that are English, all that are French appear!  1. 
Behold your King and Queen! behold! and hear!  
You Preiates of the Church are summoned all  
And every Member Ecclesiastical.  2. 
And every Noble too, and Commoner!  1. 
He that is French, or English, and not here,  
In person or in public Deputy,  
Shall, though alive, in Law not living be.  2. 
Henry the Fifth is now to take the Crown  
Of France, not as if given him, but his own.  1. 
That Crown shall still descend to all his Line  
As Heirs, or not as Heirs, of Katherine.  2. 
He that is French, or English, now attend!  1. 
Or else he is no Leigeman, nor no Friend.  The Curtain is drawn up. The Curtain being lifted up, there appear the King, Princess Katherine, Queen Mother, Princess Arm, Chareloys, and all the English, and the French Nobility and Officers of State; and others according to their places. Burg. 
The Deputies, sent by the three Estates,  
Wait for admittance at your Palace Gates.  King. 
My Lord with all the public forms of care  
Let all my Officers their way prepare.  [All the Officers designed for that purpose, then orderly go out. 
If ought this day my blessings could abate  
'Tis that they are ill husbanded by Fate.  
For, Madam, I am now too happy grown  
By gaining in one day, you and a Throne.  
The first felicity I found so vast  
As takes away my relish of the last.  Enter the Distinct Trains of the Deputies from the three Estates, the King's Officers, and last of all the three Deputies, the Bishop of Arras for the ecclesiastics, the Constable for the Peers, and Monsieur Colemore for the people. Bish. of Ar. 
Great King, th' Estates of France have sent us three  
To pay their Duties in this just Decree:  
Fixing the Crown on you, and on that Line,  
Which Heaven, in favour, shall to both design.  
Who knows what wonders such a Line may do  
As is from Beauties drawn and Conqueror's too?  
In which, Heaven all those Princes will unite  
Who to this Empire have, or claim a right.  
We by the Dauphin's bloody deed did see  
That he but falsely claimed what he would be.  
For we admired one born to fill his Throne  
Could act his crime, and then that crime could own.  
But, searching our Records, we found at last  
That a long error as a truth has past:  
For he who flies, now justice does advance,  
Is Charles of Valois, not the Son of France.  
From those Records the Learned clearly tell  
Your Ancient Title by Queen Isabel;  
By whom you to this Crown are lawful Heir:  
New rights we grant not, but the old declare.  
This just Decree, in which they pay that debt,  
We humbly prostrate at your Royal Feet.  
I from the Clergy come to whom is given  
The lasting power of Legates sent from Heaven,  
Their Prayers will make you conquer when you fight;  
And, in their voice, Heaven does allow you right.  Const. 
I from the Nobles come, who still are born  
To save their Monarchs, and their Courts adorn;  
And still are certain of th' incessant care  
Of Palaces and dangers of the War.  
They in their Sphere should still continue bright  
Since they from Kings derive their borrowed light.  Mouns. Cole. 
I from the people come, who always are  
The Hands, as Nobles are the heads of War.  
And when the glorious toils of War shall cease  
Their hands are no less useful, Sir, in Peace.  B. of Ar. 
And all the three do with one voice confess  
They in their Duty find their happiness.  [They give the Parchment. King. 
Th' Estates I hope, my Lords, shall ne'er repent  
What I receive, and they have freely sent.  
English and French now but one people are:  
And both shall have my equal love and care.  
But Charles of Valois we shall soon destroy;  
And, by his ruin, France shall Peace enjoy.  
Since now 'gainst so much guilt we are to fight  
We may depend on Conquest as our right.  
Our Swords should only Miracles produce  
Now we have joined the Cross and Fleur de Luce.  
'Twere sin the help of Fortune to implore  
To Crown that head your hands have Crowned before.  [Exeunt Omnes. 
FINIS.