Hung be the heavens with black , yield day to night ! Comets , importing change of times and states , Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky And with them scourge the bad revolting stars That have consented unto Henry 's death ! King Henry the Fifth , too famous to live long ! England ne'er lost a king of so much worth . Cease , cease these jars and rest your minds in peace ; Let 's to the altar . Heralds , wait on us . Instead of gold , we 'll offer up our arms , Since arms avail not , now that Henry 's dead . Posterity , await for wretched years , When at their mothers ’ moist'ned eyes babes shall suck , Our isle be made a nourish of salt tears , And none but women left to wail the dead . Henry the Fifth , thy ghost I invocate : Prosper this realm , keep it from civil broils , Combat with adverse planets in the heavens . A far more glorious star thy soul will make Than Julius Caesar or bright What say'st thou , man , before dead Henry 's corse ? Speak softly , or the loss of those great towns Will make him burst his lead and rise from death . Me they concern ; Regent I am of France . Give me my steeled coat ; I 'll fight for France . Away with these disgraceful wailing robes ! Wounds will I lend the French instead of eyes , To weep their intermissive miseries . Gloucester , why doubt'st thou of my forwardness ? An army have I muster 'd in my thoughts , Wherewith already France is overrun . Is Talbot slain ? Then I will slay myself , For living idly here in pomp and ease , Whilst such a worthy leader , wanting aid , Unto his dastard foemen is betray 'd . His ransom there is none but I shall pay . I 'll hale the Dauphin headlong from his throne ; His crown shall be the ransom of my friend ; Four of their lords I 'll change for one of ours . Farewell , my masters ; to my task will I ; Bonfires in France forthwith I am to make To keep our great Saint George 's feast withal . Ten thousand soldiers with me I will take , Whose bloody deeds shall make an Europe quake . I do remember it , and here take my leave To go about my preparation . Exit Coward of France , how much he wrongs his fame , Despairing of his own arm 's fortitude , To join with witches and the help of hell ! A maid ! and be so martial ! Ascend , brave Talbot ; we will follow thee . Agreed ; I 'll to yond corner . The day begins to break , and night is fled Whose pitchy mantle over-veil 'd the earth . Here sound retreat and cease our hot pursuit . ‘ Tis thought , Lord Talbot , when the fight began , Rous 'd on the sudden from their drowsy beds , They did amongst the troops of armed men Leap o'er the walls for refuge in the field . No , truly ; ‘ tis more than manners will ; And I have heard it said unbidden guests Are often welcomest when they are gone . O , let no words , but deeds , revenge this treason ! Lord Talbot , do not so dishonour me ; Here will I sit before the walls of Rouen , And will be partner of your weal or woe . Not to be gone from hence ; for once I read That stout Pendragon in his litter sick Came to the field , and vanquished his foes . Methinks I should revive the soldiers ’ hearts , Because I ever found them as myself . Now , quiet soul , depart when heaven please , For I have seen our enemies ’ overthrow . What is the trust or strength of foolish man ? They that of late were daring with their scoffs Are glad and fain by flight to save themselves .