_Dead March. Enter the Funeral of_ KING HENRY the Fifth, _attended on by the_ DUKE of BEDFORD, _Regent of France; the_ DUKE of GLOUCESTER, _Protector; the_ DUKE of EXETER, _the_ EARL of WARWICK, _the_ BISHOP of WINCHESTER, Heralds, _&c._ _Bed._ Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night!   [aaa001] Comets, importing change of times and states, Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky,   [aaa003] And with them scourge the bad revolting stars That have consented unto Henry’s death!   [aaa005] King Henry the Fifth, too famous to live long!   [aaa006] England ne’er lost a king of so much worth. _Glou_. England ne’er had a king until his time. Virtue he had, deserving to command: His brandish’d sword did blind men with his beams:   [aaa010] His arms spread wider than a dragon’s wings; His sparkling eyes, replete with wrathful fire,   [aaa012] More dazzled and drove back his enemies Than mid-day sun fierce bent against their faces. What should I say? his deeds exceed all speech:   ·aaa015· He ne’er lift up his hand but conquered.   [aaa016] _Exe._ We mourn in black: why mourn we not in blood? Henry is dead and never shall revive: Upon a wooden coffin we attend, And death’s dishonourable victory   ·aaa020· We with our stately presence glorify, Like captives bound to a triumphant car. What! shall we curse the planets of mishap That plotted thus our glory’s overthrow? Or shall we think the subtle-witted French   ·aaa025· Conjurers and sorcerers, that afraid of him By magic verses have contrived his end?   [aaa027] _Win._ He was a king bless’d of the King of kings. Unto the French the dreadful judgement-day So dreadful will not be as was his sight.   ·aaa030· The battles of the Lord of hosts he fought: The church’s prayers made him so prosperous.   [aaa032] _Glou._ The church! where is it? Had not churchmen pray’d,   [aaa033] His thread of life had not so soon decay’d: None do you like but an effeminate prince,   ·aaa035· Whom, like a school-boy, you may over-awe. _Win._ Gloucester, whate’er we like, thou art Protector And lookest to command the prince and realm. Thy wife is proud; she holdeth thee in awe, More than God or religious churchmen may.   ·aaa040· _Glou._ Name not religion, for thou lovest the flesh, And ne’er throughout the year to church thou go’st Except it be to pray against thy foes.