KING HENRY VIntroductory matter[unresolved image link]
Title page
KING HENRY V. By SHAKESPEARE. AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE-ROYAL, COVENT-GARDEN.
Regulated by Mr. YOUNGER, Prompter of that Theatre.
An INTRODUCTION, and NOTES Critical and Illustrative, ARE ADDED BY THE AUTHORS of the DRAMATIC CENSOR.
LONDON:
Printed for JOHN BELL, near Exeter-Exchange, in the Strand; and C. ETHERINGTON, at York.MDCCLXXIII.
-- 3 --
INTRODUCTION.
KING HENRY V.
Our Fifth Henry, notwithstanding his unpardonable levity
and dissipation, while a prince, shone with such resplendant
lustre and dignity, when a monarch, that Shakespeare,
who had shewn his foibles, was under a kind
of necessity to produce him in an improved state, and if
we judge by the outset of his prologue, he summoned all
his powers, to do the hero justice; nor has he failed;
the character is faithfully and ably drawn; it is furnished
with language and sentiments suitable; being
placed also in the most advantageous point of view.
'Tis true, the plot is irregular, and tainted with some
low quibbling comedy, which, as we think, contrary to
some idolators of Shakespeare, greatly disgrace the serious
part; however, upon the whole, we may safely
and cordially admit, that there are several passages in
this piece, equal to any other the author ever wrote;
it would be exceedingly painful to find fault, but that
we have many more agreeable opportunities to praise.
-- 4 --
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
Covent-Garden.
King Henry [King Henry the Fifth],
Mr. Smith.
Gloucester [Duke of Gloucester],
Mr. Harris.
Bedford [Duke of Bedford],
Mr. Wild.
Exeter [Duke of Exeter],
Mr. Hull.
Salisbury [Earl of Salisbury],
Mr. Cushing.
Westmoreland [Earl of Westmoreland],
Mr. R. Smith.
Abp. of Canterbury [Archbishop of Canterbury],
Mr. Gardner.
Cambridge [Earl of Cambridge],
Mr. Wignell.
Scroop [Lord Scroop],
Mr. Fox.
Grey [Sir Thomas Grey],
Mr. Redman.
Gower,
Mr. Du-Bellamy.
Fluellin [Fluellen],
Mr. Shuter.
Jamy,
Mr. Dunstall.
Nym,
Mr. Stoppelaer.
Bardolph,
Mr. Wignell.
Pistol,
Mr. Dyer.
Boy,
Miss Valois.
Williams,
Mr. Morris.
King of France [Charles the Sixth],
Mr. Kniveton.
Dauphin [Lewis],
Mr. Davis,
Constable [Constable of France],
Mr. Clarke.
Burgundy [Duke of Burgundy],
Mr. Perry.
Governor,
Mr. Bates.
Montjoy,
Mr. Baker.
Queen of France [Isabel],
Mrs. Vincent.
Catherine [Katherine],
Mrs. Mattocks.
Hostess [Mrs Quickly],
Mrs. Pitt.
Lords, Messengers, French and English Soldiers, with other Attendants.
[Chorus], [Bishop of Ely], [Ambassador], [Messenger], [Macmorris], [Montjoy], [Duke of Orleans], [Rambures], [Sir Thomas Erpingham], [Bates], [French Soldier], [Bourbon], [Herald], [Lady], [Messenger], [Doorkeper]
The Scene, at the beginning of the Play, lies in England, but afterwards, wholly in France.
PROLOGUE.* [Footnote:
O For a muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention;
A kingdom for a stage, princes to act,
And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!
Then should the warlike Harry, like himself,
Assume the port of Mars, and at his heels,
Lasht in like hounds, should famine, sword, and fire
Couch for employment. Pardon, gentles all,
The flat, unraised spirit, that hath dar'd,
On this unworthy scaffold, to bring forth
So great an object. Can this cock-pit hold
The vasty field of France? or may we cram,
Within this wooden O, the very caskes
That did affright the air at Agincourt?
O pardon, since a crooked figure may
Attest, in little place, a million;
And let us, cyphers to this great accompt,
On your imaginary forces work.
Suppose within the girdle of these walls,
Are now confin'd two mighty monarchies;
Whose high up-reared, and abutting fronts,
The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder.
Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts,
Into a thousand parts divide one man,
And make imaginary puissance:
Think, when we talk of horses, that you see them
Printing their proud hoofs i'th' receiving earth.
For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings,
Carry them here and there, jumping o'er times,
Turning th' accomplishment of many years,
Into an hour glass; for the which supply,
Admit me Chorus to this history;
Who prologue like, your humble patience pray,
Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our play.
-- 7 --
ACT I.SceneSCENE, London.Enter the Archbishop of Canterbury, and Bishop of Ely.* note
Archbishop of Canterbury.
My lord, I tell you—That self bill is urg'd,
Which, in the eleventh year o'th' last king's reign,
Was like, and had indeed against us past,
But that the scrambling and unquiet time
Did put it out of farther question.
Ely.
But how, my lord, shall we resist it now?
Cant.
It must be thought on: if it pass against us,
We lose the better part of our possession;
For all the temporal lands, which men devout
By testament have given to the church,
Would they strip from us;
Thus runs the bill.
Ely.
But what prevention?
Cant.
The king is full of grace and fair regard.
Ely.
And a true lover of the holy church.
-- 8 --
Cant.
The courses of his youth promis'd it not:
The breath no sooner left his father's body,
But that his wildness, mortify'd in him,
Seem'd to die too; yea, at that very moment,
Consideration, like an angel, came,
And whipt th' offending Adam out of him,* note
Leaving his body, as a paradise,
T'invellope and contain celestial spirits.
Never was such a sudden scholar made:
Never came a reformation in a flood,
With such a heady current, scow'ring faults;
Nor ever hydra-headed wilfulness
So soon did lose his seat, and all at once,
As in this king.
Ely.
We're blessed in the change.
Cant.
Hear him but reason in divinity,
And all admiring, with an inward wish,
You would desire the king were made a prelate.
Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs,
You'd say, it hath been all in all his study.
List his discourse of war, and you shall hear
A fearful battle render'd you in musick.
Turn him to any cause of policy,
The gordian knot of it he will unloose,
Familiar as his garter. When he speaks,
The air, a charter'd libertine, is still,† note
And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears,
To steal his sweet and honied sentences:
So that the art and practic part of life
Must be the mistress to this theoric.
Which is a wonder how his grace should glean it,
Since his addiction was to courses vain,
His companies unletter'd, rude and shallow,
His hours fill'd up with riots, banquets, sports;
And never noted in him any study,
-- 9 --
Any retirement, any sequestration,
From open haunts and popularity.‡ note
Ely.
But, my good lord,
How now, for mitigation of this bill,
Urg'd by the commons? Doth his majesty
Incline to it, or no?
Cant.
He seems indifferent;
Or rather swaying more upon our part,
Than cherishing th' exhibiters against us;
For I have made an offer to his majesty,
Upon our spiritual convocation,
And in regard of causes now in hand,
Which I have open'd to his grace at large,
As touching France, to give a greater sum,
Than ever at one time the clergy yet,
Did to his predecessors part withal.
Ely.
How did this offer seem receiv'd, my lord?
Cant.
With good acceptance of his majesty;
Save that there was not time to hear,
(As I perceiv'd his grace would fain have done)
The several and unhidden passages,
Of his true titles to some certain dukedoms,
And generally to the crown of France,
Deriv'd from Edward, his great grandfather.
Ely.
What was the impediment that broke this off?
Cant.
The French ambassador, upon that instant,
Crav'd audience; and the hour I think is come
To give him hearing. Is it four o'clock?
Ely.
It is.
Cant.
Then go we in, to know his embassy.
Ely.
I'll wait upon you, and I long to hear it. [Exeunt.Enter King Henry, Gloucester, Bedford, Westmoreland, and Exeter.
K. Henry.
Where is my gracious lord of Canterbury?
-- 10 --
Exe.
Not here, in presence.
K. Henry.
Send for him, good uncle.
West.
Shall we call in the ambassador, my liege?
K. Henry.
Not yet, my cousin; we would be resolv'd,
Before we hear him, of some things of weight,
That task our thoughts, concerning us and France.* noteEnter the Archbishop of Canterbury, and Bishop of Ely.
Cant.
Heav'n and his angels guard your sacred throne,
And make you long become it.
K. Henry.
We thank you.
My learned lord, we pray you to proceed,
And justly, and religiously unfold,
Why, the law Salic, that they have in France,
Or should, or should not, bar us in our claim.
And, Heav'n forbid, my dear and faithful lord,
That you should fashion, wrest, or bow your reading,
Or nicely charge your understanding soul,
With opening titles, miscreate,‡ note whose right
Suits not in native colours with the truth.† note
For Heav'n doth know, how many now in health
Shall drop their blood, in approbation
Of what your reverence shall incite us to.
-- 11 --
Therefore, take heed how you impawn our person,
How you awake nor sleeping sword of war,
We charge you, in the name of Heav'n, take heed.
Under which conjuration, speak, my lord.
Cant.
Then hear me, gracious sovereign, and you peers,* note
That owe your lives, your faith, and services,
To this imperial throne. There is no bar
To make against your highness' claim to France,
But this, which they produce from Pharamond,
No woman shall succeed in Salic land:
Which Salic land the French unjustly gloze
To be the realm of France; and Pharamond,
The founder of this law, and female bar.
Yet their own authors faithfully affirm,
That the land Salic, lies in Germany,
Between the floods of Sala and of Elve;
Where Charles the great, having subdu'd the Saxons,
There left behind, and settled certain French;
Who holding in disdain the German women,
For some dishonest manners of their life,
Establisht then this law; to wit, no female
Should be inheretrix in Salic land,
Nor did the French possess the Salic land,
Until four hundred one and twenty years,
After defunction of king Pharamond,
(Idly suppos'd the founder of this law.)
Besides, their writers say,
King Pepin, who deposed Childerick,
Did hold in right and title of the female.
So do the kings of France unto this day.
-- 12 --
Howbeit, they would hold up this Salic law,
To bar your highness claiming from the female.
K. Henry.
May I, with right and conscience, make this claim?
Cant.
The sin upon my head, dread sovereign:
For in the book of Numbers, it is writ,
When the son dies, let the inheritance
Descend unto the daughter. Gracious lord,
Stand for your own, unwind your bloody flag,
Look back into your mighty ancestors.
Go, my dread lord, to your great grandsire's tomb,
From whom you claim; invoke his warlike spirit,
And your great uncle, Edward, the Black Prince,
Who, on the French ground play'd a tragedy,
Making defeat on the full pow'r of France:
Whilst his most mighty father, on a hill,
Stood smiling, to behold his lion's whelp
Forage in blood of French nobility.
O, noble English, that could entertain
With half their forces, the full pow'r of France,
And let another half stand laughing by,
All out of work and cold for action!
Ely.
Awake remembrance of these valiant dead,
And with your puissant arm renew their feats!
You are their heir, you sit upon their throne;
The blood and courage that renowned them,
Runs in your veins; and my thrice puissant liege
Is in the very May-morn of his youth,
Ripe for exploits and mighty enterprises.* note
Exe.
Your brother kings, and monarchs of the earth,
Do all expect that you shall rouze yourself,
As did the former lions of your blood.
West.
They know your grace hath cause, and means, and might
-- 13 --
So hath you highness; never king of England
Had nobles richer, and more loyal subjects,
Whose hearts have left their bodies here in England,
And lie pavilion'd in the field of France.
K. Henry.
We must not only arm t'invade the French,
But lay down our proportions to defend
Against the Scot.
For you shall read, that my great grandfather
Never went with his forces into France,
But that the Scot on his unfurnisht kingdom
Came pouring, like a tide into a breach;
That England, being empty of defence,
Hath shook and trembled at th' ill neighbourhood.
Cant.
She hath been then more fear'd than harm'd, my liege;
For hear her but exampled by myself,
When all her chivalry hath been in France,
And she a mourning widow of her nobles,
She hath herself, not only well defended,
But taken and impounded as a stray,
The king of Scots; whom she did send to France,
To fill king Edward's fame with prisoner kings;
And make his chronicle as rich with praise,
As is the ouzy bottom of the sea
With sunken wreck, and sumless treasuries.
Exe.
While that the armed hand doth fight abroad,
Th' advised head defends itself at home.
For government, though high and low, and lower,
Put into parts, doth keep in one consent,
Congreeing in a full and natural close,
Like music.* note
-- 14 --
Cant.
Therefore, to France, my liege, without delay.
Divide your happy England into four;
Whereof take you one quarter into France,
And you with that shall make all Gallia shake.
If we, with thrice such powers left at home,
Cannot defend our own doors from the dog,
Let us be worried, and our nation lose
The name of hardiness, and policy.
K. Henry.
Call in the messengers sent from the Dauphin.
Now are we well resolv'd, and by Heav'n's help
And yours, the noble sinews of our power,
France being ours, we'll bend it to our awe,
Or break it all to pieces.
-- 15 --
Enter Ambassadors of France.
Now are we well prepar'd to know the pleasure
Of our fair cousin Dauphin; for we hear
Your greeting is from him, not from the king.
Amb.
May't please your majesty to give us leave
ely to render what we have in charge;
Or, shall we sparingly shew you far off,
The Dauphin's meaning, and our embassy?
K. Henry.
We are no tyrant, but a christian king:* note
Therefore, with frank, and with uncurbed plainness,
Tell us the Dauphin's mind.
Amb.
Thus, then, in few.
Your highness lately sending into France,
Did claim some certain dukedoms, in the right
Of your great predecessor, Edward the Third.
In answer of which claim, the prince, our master,
Says, that you savour too much of your youth,
And bids you be advis'd. There's nought in France,
That can be with a nimble galliard won:
You cannot revel into dukedoms there.
He therefore sends you (meeter for your spirit)
A tun of treasure; and in lieu of this,
Desires you let the dukedoms, that you claim,
Hear no more of you. This the Dauphin speaks.
K. Henry.
What treasure, uncle?
Exe.
Tennis-balls, my liege.
K. Henry.
We're glad the Dauphin is so pleasant with us.
His present, and your pains, we thank you for.
When we have match'd our rackets to these balls,
-- 16 --
We will, in France, by Heav'n's grace, play a set
Shall strike his father's crown into the hazard.
Tell him, h'ath made a match with such a wrangler,
That all the courts of France will be disturb'd
With chaces.* note And we understand him well,
How he comes o'er us with our wilder days,
Not measuring what use we made of them.
But tell the Dauphin, I will keep my state,
Be like a king, and shew my sail of greatness,
When I do rouze me in my throne of France.
And I will rise there, with so full a glory,
That I will dazzle all the eyes of France,
Yea, strike the Dauphin blind to look on us.† note
Tell you the Dauphin, I am coming on,
To venge me as I may, and to put forth
My rightful hand, in a well-hallow'd cause.
So get you hence in peace, and fare ye well.
[Exeunt Ambassadors.
Exe.
This was a merry message.
K. Henry.
We hope to make the sender blush at it,
Therefore, my lords, omit no happy hour,
That may give furth'rance to our expedition;
For we have now no thoughts in us but France,
Save those to Heav'n, that run before our business.
And now, my lords, for France, and Heav'n before,
We'll chide this Dauphin at his father's door. [Exeunt.Enter Corporal Nim and Lieutenant Bardolph.‡ note
Bard.
Well met, Corporal Nim.
Nim.
Good-morrow, Lieutenant Bardolph.
-- 17 --
Bard.
What, are ancient Pistol and you friends yet?
Nim.
For my part, I care not. I say little; but
when time shall serve, there shall be—[smiles.] But that
shall be as it may. I dare not fight, but I will wink,
and hold out my iron; it is a simple one, but what
though? it will toast cheese, and it will endure cold,
as another man's sword will; and there's an end.
Bard.
I will bestow a breakfast to make you friends,
and we'll be all three sworn brothers to France. Let
it be so, good corporal Nim.
Nim.
Faith I will live so long as I may, that's the
certain of it; and when I cannot live any longer, I
will do as I may: that is my rest, that is the rendezvous
of it.
Bard.
It is certain, corporal, that he is married to
Nel Quickly, and certainly she did you wrong, for you
were troth-plight to her.
Nim.
I cannot tell, things must be as they may;
men may sleep, and they may have their throats
about them at that time; and some say, knives have
edges. It must be as it may; though patience be a
tir'd mare, yet she will plod. There must be conclusions.
Well, I cannot tell.
Enter Pistol and Quickly.
Bard.
Here comes ancient Pistol and his wife;
good corporal, be patient here. How now, mine host
Pistol?
Pist.
Base tyke, call'st thou me host? Now by
this hand, I swear I scorn the term; nor shall my Nellkeep lodgers.
Quick.
No, by my troth, not long; for we cannot
lodge and board a dozen or fourteen gentlewomen,
that live honestly by the prick of their needles, but it
will be thought we keep a bawdy-house straight. O,
welliday lady, if he be not drawn! Now, we shall see
wilful adultery, and murder committed.
-- 18 --
Bard.
Good lieutenant, good corporal, offer nothing
here.
Nim.
Pish.
Pist.
Pish for thee, Island dog; thou prick-ear'd
cur of Island.
Quick.
Good corporal Nim, shew thy valour, and
put up thy sword.
Nim.
Will you shogg off? I would have you solus.
Pist. Solus, egregious dog! O viper vile!
The solus in thy most marvellous face,
The solus in thy teeth, and in thy throat,
And in thy hateful lungs, yea in thy maw perdy;
And which is worse, within thy nasty mouth,
I do retort the solus in thy bowels;
For I can take, and Pistol's cock is up,
And flashing fire will follow.
Nim.
I am not Barbason, you cannot conjure me. I
have an humour to knock you indifferently well; if
you grow foul with me, Pistol, I will scour you with
my rapier, as I may, in fair terms. If you wou'd walk
off, I would prick your guts a little in good terms, as
I may, and that's the humour of it.
Pist.
O, braggard vile, and damned furious wight.
The grave doth gape, and groaning death is near,
Therefore exhale.
Bard.
Hear me, hear me what I say. He that strikes
the first stroke, I'll run him up to the hilts, as I am a
soldier.
Pist.
An oath of mickle might; and fury shall abate.
Give me thy fist, thy fore-foot to me give:
Thy spirits are most tall.
Nim.
I will cut thy throat, one time or other, in fair
terms; that is the humour of it.
Pist. Coupe à gorge, that is the word, I defy thee, again.
O hound of Crete, thinkst thou my spouse to get?
No, to the spittle go,
And from the powd'ring tub of infamy,
-- 19 --
Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid's kind,
Dol Tear-sheet, she by name, and her espouse.
I have, and I will hold, the Quondam Quickly,
For th' only she; and pauca, there's enough; go to.
Enter the Boy.
Boy.
Mine host, Pistol, you must come to my master,
and your hostess: he is very sick, and would to
bed. Good Bardolph, put thy nose between his
sheets, and do the office of a warming-pan. Faith,
he's very ill.
Bard.
Away you rogue.
Quick.
By my troth, he'll yield the crow a pudding,
one of these days: the king has kill'd his heart. Good
husband, come home, presently.
[Exit Quick.
Bard.
Come, shall I make you two friends? We
must to France together. Why the devil should we
keep knives to cut one another's throats?
Pist.
Let floods o'erswell, and fiends for food howl
on.
Nim.
You'll pay me the eight shillings I won of
you, at betting?
Pist.
Base is the slave that pays.
Nim.
That now I will have: that's the humour of it.
Pist.
As manhood shall compound, push home.
[Draws.
Bard.
By this sword, he that makes the first thurst,
I'll kill him; by this sword, I will.
Pist.
Sword is an oath, and oaths must have their course.
Bard.
Corporal Nim, an thou wilt be friends, be
friends; an thou wilt not, why then be enemies with
me, too; pr'ythee put up.
Pist.
A noble shalt thou have, and present pay,
And liquor likewise will I give to thee,
And friendship shall combine and brotherhood.
I'll live by Nim, and Nim shall live by me.
Is not this just? for I shall sutler be,
-- 20 --
Unto the camp, and profits will accrue.
Give me thy hand.
Nim.
I shall have my noble?
Pist.
In cash most justly paid.
Nim.
Well then, that's the humour of't.
Enter Hostess.
Host.
As ever you came of women, come in quickly
to Sir John: Ah, poor heart, he is so shak'd of a burning
quotidian tertian, that it is most lamentable to behold.
Sweet men, come to him.
Nim.
The king hath run bad humours on the knight,
that's the even of it.
Pist.
Nim, thou hast spoke the right, his heart is
fracted and corroborate.
Nim.
The king is a good king, but it must be as it
may; he passes some humours and careers
Pist.
Let us condole the knight; for, lambkins! we
will live.
Bedford. 'Fore heav'n, his grace is bold to trust these traitors.
Exe.
They shall be apprehended, by and by.
-- 22 --
West.
How smooth and even they do bear themselves,
As if allegiance in their bosoms sate,
Crowned with faith and constant loyalty.
Bed.
The king hath note of all that they intend,
By interception, which they dream not of.
Exe.
Nay but the man that was his bed-fellow,
Whom he hath lull'd and cloy'd with gracious favours;
That he should, for a foreign purse, so sell
His sovereign's life to death and treachery. [Trumpets sound.Enter the King, Scroop, Cambridge, and Grey.
K. Henry.
Now sits the wind fair, and we will aboard.
My lord of Cambridge, and my lord of Masham,
And you, my gentle knight, give me your thoughts:
Think you not that the pow'rs we bear with us,
Will cut their passage through the force of France?
Scroop.
No doubt, my liege; if each man do his best.
K. Henry.
I doubt not that, since we are well persuaded,
-- 23 --
We carry not a heart with us from hence,
That grows not in a fair consent with ours;
And leave not one behind, that doth not wish
Success and conquest to attend on us.
Camb.
Never was monarch better fear'd and lov'd,
Than is your majesty; there's not a subject,
That sits in heart-grief and uneasiness,
Under the sweet shade of your government.
Grey.
True; those that were your father's enemies,
Have steept their gauls in honey, and observe you,
With hearts create of duty and of zeal.* note
K. Henry.
We judge no less. Uncle of Exeter,
Inlarge the man, committed yesterday,
That rail'd against our person: we consider
It was excess of wine that set him on,
And on his more advice we pardon him.
Scroop.
That's mercy, but too much security:† note
Let him be punish'd, sovereign, lest example
Breed, by his suff'rance, more of such a kind.
K. Henry.
O let us yet be merciful.
Camb.
So may your highness, and yet punish too.
Grey.
You shew great mercy, if you give him life,
After the taste of much correction.
K. Henry.
Alas! your too much love and care of me
Are heavy orisons 'gainst this poor wretch.
If little faults, proceeding on distemper,
Shall not be wink'd at, how shall we stretch our eye,
When capital crimes, chew'd, swallow'd, and digested,
Appear before us? We'll enlarge that man,
Though Cambridge, Scroop, and Grey, in their dear care,
-- 24 --
And tender preservation of our person,
Would have him punish'd. Now to our French causes;
Who are the late commissionors?
Camb.
I one, my lord.
Your highness bade me ask for it to-day.
Scroop.
So did you me, my liege.
Grey.
And I, my sovereign.
K. Henry.
Then, Richard earl of Cambridge, there is yours:
There yours, lord Scroop of Masham; and sir knight,
Grey of Northumberland, this same is yours;
Read them, and know, I know your worthiness.
My lord of Westmoreland, and uncle Exeter,
We will aboard, to-night. Why, how now, gentlemen?
What see you in those papers, that you lose
So much complexion? Look ye, how they change!
Their cheeks are paper! Why, what read you there,
That hath so cowarded and chas'd your blood,
Out of appearance?
Camb.
I confess my fault,
And do submit me to your highness' mercy.
Grey. Scroop.
To which we all appeal.
K. Henry.
The mercy that was quick in us but late,* note
By your own counsel, is suppress'd and kill'd:
You must not dare for shame to talk of mercy,
For your own reasons turn upon your bosoms,
As dogs upon their masters, worrying you.
See you, my princes, and my noble peers,
These English monsters! my Lord Cambridge here,
You know how apt our love was to accord,
To furnish him with all appertinents,
Belonging to his honour; and this man
Hath, for a few light crowns, conspir'd,
And sworn into the practices of France,
-- 25 --
To kill us, here in Hampton. To the which,
This knight, no less for bounty bound to us,
Than Cambridge is, hath likewise sworn. But O!
What shall I say to thee, Lord Scroop, thou cruel,
Ingrateful, savage, and inhuman creature!
Thou, that didst bear the key of all my counsels,
That almost might'st have coin'd me into gold,
Would'st thou have practis'd on me for thy use?
May it be possible that foreign hire
Could out of thee extract one spark of evil,
That might annoy my finger? 'Tis so strange,
That though the truth of it stand off as gross,
As black and white, my eye will scarcely see it.* note
Arrest them to the answer of the law,
And Heav'n acquit them of their practices.
Exe.
I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Richard Earl of Cambridge.
I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Thomas
Lord Scroop of Masham.
I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Thomas Grey, Knight of Northumberland.
Scroop.
Our purposes Heav'n justly hath discover'd,
And I repent my fault, more than my death;
Which I beseech your highness to forgive,
Although my body pay the price of it.
Cam.
For me, the gold of France did not seduce,
Although I did admit it as a motive,
-- 26 --
The soone to effect what I intended;
But Heaven be thanked for prevention,
Which I in sufferance heartily rejoice for,
Beseeching Heav'n and you to pardon me.
Grey.
Never did faithful subject more rejoice
At the discovery of most dangerous treason,
Than I do at this hour joy o'er myself,
Prevented from a damned enterprise:
My fault, but not my body, pardon, sovereign.
K. Henry.
Heav'n quit you in its mercy; hear your sentence;
Touching our person, seek we no revenge,
But we our kingdom's safety must so tender,
Whose ruin you three sought, that to her laws
We do deliver you. Go therefore hence,
Poor miserable wretches, to your death.
The taste whereof God of his mercy give
You patience to endure; and true repentance
Of all your dear offences! Bear them hence.
[Exeunt.
Now, lords, for France, the enterprize whereof
Shall be to you, as us, like glorious.
Then forth, dear countrymen; let us deliver
Our puissance into the hand of Heav'n,
Putting it strait in expedition.
Chearly to sea the signs of war advance,
No King of England, if not King of France. [Exeunt.SceneSCENE changes again to London.
Enter Pistol, Nim, Bardolph, Boy and Hostess.
Host.
Pr'ythee honey-sweet husband, let me bring
thee to Staines.
Pist.
No, for my manly heart doth yern.
Bardolph, be blith: Nym, rouze thy vaunting vein:
Boy, bristle thy courage up; for Falstaff he is dead,
And we must yern, therefore.
Bard.
Would I were with him, wheresome'er he is,
either in heaven or in hell.
Host.
Nay, sure he's not in hell; he's in Arthur's
bosom, if ever man went to Arthur's bosom. He made
a finer end, and went away an it had been any christom
child; a parted even just between twelve and one, even
-- 27 --
at the turning o'th' tide: for after I saw him fumble
with the sheets, and play with flowers, and smile upon
his finger's end, I knew there was but one way; for
his nose was as sharp as a pen. How now, Sir John?
quoth I: what man? be of good cheer: so a cried out,
Heav'n, Heav'n, Heav'n, three or four times. Now
I, to comfort him, bid him a should not think of Heaven:
I hop'd there was no need to trouble himself
with any such thoughts, yet: so a bade me lay more
clothes on his feet: I put my hand into the bed and
felt them, and they were as cold as a stone: then I felt
to his knees, and so upward, and upward, and all was as
cold as any stone.* note
Nym.
They say he cried out of sack.
Host.
Ay, that a did.
Bard.
And of women.
Host.
Nay, that a did not.
Boy.
Yes that he did, and said they were devils incarnate.
Host.
A could never abide carnation, 'twas a colour
he never lik'd.
Boy.
He said once the deule would have him about
women.
Host.
He did, in some sort, indeed, handle women;
but then he was rheumatick, and talk'd of the whore
of Babylon.
Boy.
Do you not remember he saw a flea stick upon
Bardolph's nose, and said it was a black soul burning in
hell.
Bard.
Well, the fuel is gone that maintain'd that
fire: that's all the riches I got in his service.
Nym.
Shall we shogg?† note the king will be gone from
Southampton.
Pist.
Come, let's away. My love, give me thy lips:
-- 28 --
Look to my chattels, and my moveables;
Let senses rule; the word is pitch and pay;
Trust none, for oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer-cakes,
And hold-fast is the only dog, my duck,
Therefore Caveto be thy counsel;
Go, clear thy chrystals. Yoke fellows in arms,
Let us to France, like horse-leeches, my boys,
To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck.
Boy.
And that's but unwholsome food, they say.
Pist.
Touch her soft mouth, and march.
Bard.
Farewel, hostess.
Nym.
I cannot kiss, that's the humour of it; but adieu.
Pist.
Let housewifry appear; keep close, I thee
command.
Host.
Farewel; adieu.
[Exeunt.SceneSCENE changes to France.
Enter the French King, the Dauphin, the Duke of Burgundy, and the Constable.* note
Fr. King.
Thus come the English with full power upon us;
And more than carefully it us concerns
To answer royally in our defences.
Therefore the Dukes of Berry and of Britain,
Of Brabant, and of Orleans, shall make forth,
And you, Prince Dauphin, with all swift dispatch;
To line and new repair our towns of war,
With men of courage and with means defendant:
For England his approaches makes as fierce,
As waters to the sucking of a gulf.
It fits us then to be as provident,
As fear may teach us out of late examples,
Left by the fatal and neglected English,
Upon our fields.
Daup.
My most redoubted father,
It is most meet we arm us 'gainst the foe:
-- 29 --
For peace itself should not so dull a kingdom
But that defences, musters, preparations,
Should be maintain'd, assembled and collected,
As were a war in expectation.
Therefore, I say, 'tis meet we all go forth,
To view the sick and feeble parts of France:
And let us do it with no shew of fear;
No, with no more than if we heard that England
Were busied with a Whitsun morrice-dance.
For, my good liege, she is so idly king'd,
Her scepter so fantastically born.
By a vain, giddy, shallow, humorous youth,
That fear attends her not.
Con.
O peace, prince Dauphin,
You are too much mistaken in this king.
Question your grace the late ambassadors,
With what great state he heard their embassy,
How well supply'd with noble counsellors,
How modest in exception, and withal,
How terrible in constant resolution.
And you shall find his vanities, fore-spent,
Were but the outside of the Roman Brutus,
Covering discretion with a coat of folly.
Daup.
Well, 'tis not so, my lord high constable;
But tho' we think it so, it is no matter.
In causes of defence, 'tis best to weigh
The enemy more mighty than he seems,
So the proportions of defence are fill'd.
Fr. King.
Think we king Harry strong;
And, princes, look you strongly arm to meet him.
The kindred of him hath been flesh'd upon us;
And he is bred out of that bloody strain,
That haunted us, in our familiar paths.
Witness our too much memorable shame,
When Cressy battle fatally was struck,
And all our princes captiv'd, by the hand
Of that black name, Edward, the prince of Wales:
-- 30 --
While that his mountain fire, on mountain standing,* note
Up in the air, crown'd with the golden sun,
Saw his heroic seed, and smil'd to see him,
Mangle the work of nature, and deface
The patterns, that by Heav'n and by French fathers,
Had twenty years been made. This is a stem,
Of that victorious stock; and let us fear
The native mightiness and fate of him.† note
Enter Messenger.
Mess.
Ambassadors from Harry, king of England,
Do crave admittance to your majesty.
Fr. King.
We'll give them present audience. Go, and bring them.
You see this chace is hotly follow'd, friends.
Daup.
Turn head, and stop pursuit; for coward dogs
Most spend their mouths, when what they seem to threaten,
Runs far before them. Good, my sovereign,
Take up the English short, and let them know,
Of what a monarchy you are the head.
Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin,‡ note
As self-neglecting. Enter Exeter.
Fr. King.
From our brother England?
Exe.
From him; and thus he greets your majesty.
He wills you, in the awful name of Heav'n,
-- 31 --
That you divest yourself, and lay apart
The borrow'd glories, that by gift of heaven,
By law of nature, and of nations, 'long
To him, and to his heirs; namely, the crown,
And all the wide-stretch'd honours that pertain,
By custom, and the ordinance of times,
Unto the crown of France. That you may know
'Tis no sinister, nor no aukward claim,
Pick'd from the worm-holes of long vanish'd days,
Nor from the dust of old oblivion rak'd,
He sends you this most memorable line,
Willing you overlook his pedigree;
And when you find him evenly deriv'd
From his most fam'd of famous ancestors,
Edward the Third: he bids you then resign
Your crown and kingdom, indirectly held
From him, the native, and true challenger.
Fr. King.
Or else, what follows?
Exe.
Bloody constraint; for if you hide the crown* note
Ev'n in your hearts, there will he rake for it.
And therefore, in fierce tempest is he coming,
In thunder, and in earthquake, like a Jove:
That if requiring fail, he may compell.
He bids you, in compassion to your subjects,
Deliver up the crown, and to take mercy
On the poor souls, for whom this hungry war
Opens his vasty jaws; upon your head,
Turning the widows' tears, the orphans' cries,
The dead men's blood, the pining maiden's groans,
For husbands, fathers, and betrothed lovers,
That shall be swallow'd in this controversy.
This is his claim, his threatning, and my message;
Unless the Dauphin be in presence here,
To whom, expresly I bring greeting, too.
Fr. King.
For us, we will consider of this, further.
-- 32 --
To-morrow, shall you bear our full intent
Back to our brother England.
Daup.
For the Dauphin,
I stand here for him. What to him, from England?
Exe.
Scorn and defiance, slight regard, contempt,
And any thing, that may not misbecome
The mighty sender, doth he prize you at.
Thus, says my king; and if your father's highness
Do not, in grant of all demands at large,
Sweeten the bitter mock you sent his majesty;
He'll call you to so hot an answer for it,
That caves and womby vaultages of France,
Shall chide your trespass, and return your mock,
In second accent to his ordinance.
Daup.
Say, if my father render fair reply,
It is against my will; for I desire
Nothing but odds with England. To that end,
As matching to his youth and vanity,
I did present him with those Paris balls.
Exe.
He'll make your Paris Louvre shake for it.
Were it the mistress court of mighty Europe.
And be assur'd, you'll find a difference,
Between the promise of his greener days,
And these he masters, now. Now he weighs time
Even to the utmost grain, which you shall read
In your own losses, if he stay in France.
Fr. King.
To-morrow, you shall know our mind at
full.
Exe.
Dispatch us with all speed, lest that our king
Come here himself, to question our delay,
For he is footed in this land, already.
Fr. King.
You shall be soon dispatch'd with fair conditions:
A night is but small breath, and little pause,
To answer matters of this consequence. [Exeunt.* noteEnd of the Second Act.
Enter King Henry, Exeter, Bedford, and Gloucester, before Harfleur.
King Henry. Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or, close the wall up with our English dead.
-- 34 --
In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man,* note
As modest stillness, and humility;
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tyger.
Now on, you noblest English,
Whose blood is fetcht from fathers of war-proof;
Fathers, that like so many Alexanders,
Have, in these parts, from morn till even fought.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,† note
Straining upon the start. The game's a-foot:
Follow your spirit; and, upon this charge,
Cry, Heav'n for Harry, England, and St. George.
[Alarm, and Cannon go off.Enter Nim, Bardolph, Pistol, and Boy.
Bard.
On, on, on, on, on, to the breach, to the
breach.
-- 35 --
Nim.
Pray thee, corporal, stay, the knocks are too
hot; and for mine own part, I have not a case of lives.
The humour of it is too hot, that is the very plain
song of it.
Pist.
The plain song is most just: for humours do abound.
Knocks go and come: Heav'n's vassals drop and die;
And sword and shield, in bloody field, doth win immortal fame.
Boy.
Would I were in an ale-house, in London, I
would give all my fame, for a pot of ale and safety
Pist.
And I; if wishes would prevail,
I would not stay, but thither would I hye. Enter Fluellen.* note
Flu.
Up to the breach, you dogs. Avaunt, you
cullions.
Enter Gower.
Gower.
Captain Fluellen, you must come presently
to the mines; the Duke of Gloucester would speak with
you.
Flu.
To the mines? Tell you the duke, it is not so
good to come to the mines; for look you, the mines
are not according to the disciplines of the war; the
concavities of it, is not sufficient; for look you, th'
athversary, (you may discuss unto the duke, look you)
is digt himself four yards under the countermines.
By Cheshu, I think, a will plow up all, if there is not
better directions.
Gower.
The Duke of Gloucester, to whom the order
of the siege is given, is altogether directed by an
Irishman, a very valiant gentleman, i'faith.
-- 36 --
Flu.
It is Captain Mackmorris, is it not?
Gower.
I think it be.
Flu.
By Cheshu, he is an ass, as is in the world: I will
verify as much in his beard. He has no more directions
in the true discipline of the wars, look you, of
the Roman disciplines, than is a puppy-dog.
Here he comes, and the Scots captain, captain
Jamy with him.
Flu.
Captain Jamy is a marvellous valorous gentleman,
that is certain, and of great expedition and knowledge
in the ancient wars, upon my particular knowledge
of his directions. By Cheshu, he will maintain
his argument, as well as any military man in the
world.
Jamy.
I say, gudday, Captain Fluellen.
Flu.
Godden to your worship, good captain James.
Gower.
How now, captain Mackmorris, have you
quitted the mines? Have the pioneers given o'er?
Mack.
By Chrish law, tish ill done; the work ish
give over, the trumpet sound the retreat. By my
hand, I swear, and by my father's soul, the work ish
ill done; it ish give over. I wou'd have blowed up
the town, so Chrish save me, law, in an hour. O,
tish ill done, tish ill done! by my hand, tish ill done.
Flu.
Captain Macmorris, I beseech you now, will
you vouchsafe me, look you, a few disputations with
you, as partly touching, or concerning the disciplines
of the war, the Roman wars, in the way of argument,
look you, and friendly communication; partly to
satisfy my opinion, and partly for the satisfaction, look
-- 37 --
you, of my mind, as touching the direction of the
military discipline; that is the point.
Jamy.
It sall be very gud, gud feith, gud captens
bath, and I sall quit you with gud leve, as I may pick
occasion; that sall I, marry.
Mack.
It is no time to discourse, so Chrish save me.* noteThe day is hot, and the weather, and the wars, and
the king, and the duke; it is not time to discourse,
the town is beseech'd, and the trumpet calls us to
the breach, and we talk, and by Chrish do nothing;
'tis shame for us all. So God sa' me, 'tis shame to stand
still, it is shame, by my hand; and there is throats to
be cut, and works to be done, and there ish nothing
done; so Chrish sa' me, law.
Jamy.
By the mess, ere theise eyes of mine take
themselves to slomber, aile do gud service, or
aile ligge i'th' ground for it; ay, or go to death; and
aile pay it as valourously as I may.
Flu.
Captain Mackmorris, I think, look you, under
your correction, there is not many of your nation—
Mack.
Of my nation! What ish my nation? ish a
villain, and a bastard, and a knave, and a rascal? What
ish my nation? Who talks of my nation?
Flu.
Look you, if you take the matter otherwise
than is meant, captain Mackmorris, peradventure, I
shall think you do not use me with that affability, as
in discretion you ought to use me, look you, being as
good a man as yourself, both in the disciplines of
wars, and in the derivation of my birth, and in other
particularities.
Mack.
I do not know you so good a man as myself;
so Chrish save me, I will cut off your head.
Gower.
Gentlemen both, you will mistake each
other.
Jamy.
Au, that's a foul fault.
[A parley sounded.
Gower.
The town sounds a parley.
Flu.
Captain Mackmorris, when there is more petter
opportunity to be requir'd, look you, I'll be so
-- 38 --
bold as to tell you, I know the disciplines of war; and
there's an end.
[Exeunt.Enter King Henry, and his train, before the gates; Governor and Citizens, on the Ramparts.
K. Henry.
How yet resolves the governor of the town?
As I am a soldier,
(A name, that in my thoughts, becomes me best)
If I begin the batt'ry once again,
I will not leave the half atchiev'd Harfleur,
Till in her ashes she lie buried.
The gates of mercy shall be all shut up.
Therefore, you men of Harfleur,
Take pity of your town, and of your people,
While yet my soldiers are in my command.
If not; why in a moment look to see
The blind and bloody soldier, with foul hand,
Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters:
Your fathers taken by the silver beards,
And their most reverend heads dash'd to the walls.
What say you? Will you yield, and this prevent?
Or, guilty in defence, be thus destroy'd?
Gov.
Our expectation hath this day an end:
The Dauphin, of whom succours we entreated,
Returns us, that his pow'rs are not yet ready,
To raise so great a siege. Therefore, great king,
We yield our town and lives to thy soft mercy.
Enter our gates, dispose of us and ours,
For we no longer are defensible.
K. Henry.
Open your gates. Come, uncle Exeter,
Go you and enter Harfleur, there remain,
And fortify it strongly 'gainst the French:
Use mercy to them all. For us, dear uncle,
The winter coming on, and sickness growing
Upon our soldiers, we'll retire to Calais.
-- 39 --
To-night, in Harfleur we will be your guest,
To-morrow, for the march.* note
[Flourish, and enter into the town.Enter the King of France, the Dauphin, Duke of Burgundy, the Constable of France, and others.
Fr. King.
'Tis certain he hath pass'd the river Somme.
Con.
And if he be not fought withal, my lord,
Let us not live in France: let us quit all,
And give our vineyards to a barb'rous people.
Daup.
Shall a few sprays of us,
(The emptying of our father's luxury)
Our scions, put in wild and savage stock,
Sprout up so suddenly into the clouds,
And overlook their grafters?
Burg. Normans, but bastard Normans; Norman bastards.
Mort de ma vie, if thus they march along,
Unfought withal, but I will sell my dukedom,
To buy a foggy and a dirty farm,
In that nook shotten† note isle of Albion.
Const.
Why, whence have they this mettle?‡ note
Is not their climate foggy, raw, and dull?
On whom, as in despight, the sun looks pale,
Killing their fruit with frowns?
Oh! for the honour of our land,
Let us not hang, like frozen icicles,
Upon our house-tops, while more frosty people,
Sweat drops of gallant blood, in our rich fields.
-- 40 --
Daup.
By faith and honour,
Our maidens mock at us;
They bid us to the English dancing-schools,
And teach La Volta's high, and swift Coranto's;
Saying, our grace is only in our heels,
And that we are most lofty run-aways.
Fr. King.
Where is Mountjoy, the herald? Speed him hence,
Let him greet England with our sharp defiance.
Up, princes, and with spirit of honour edg'd,
Yet sharper than your swords, hie to the field.
For your great seats now quit you of great shames;
Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our land,
With pennons painted in the blood of Harfleur.
Go down upon him, you have pow'r enough,
And in a captive chariot into Roan,
Bring him, our prisoner.
Daup.
This becomes the great.
Sorry am I, his numbers are so few;
His soldiers sick, and famish'd in their march.
For I am sure, when he shall see our army,
He'll drop his heart into the sink of fear,
And for atchievement offer us his ransom.
Fr. King.
Therefore, lord constable, haste on Mountjoy,
And let him say to England, that we send
To know, what willing ransom he will give.
Prince Dauphin, you shall stay with us in Roan.
Daup.
Not so, I do beseech your majesty.
Fr. King.
Be patient, for you shall remain with us.
Now forth, lord constable, and princes all;
And quickly bring us word of victory. [Exeunt.Enter Gower and Fluellen.* note
Gower.
How now, Captain Fluellen, come you from the bridge?
-- 41 --
Flu.
I assure you, there is very excellent services
committed at the pridge.
Gower.
Is the Duke of Exeter safe?
Flu.
The Duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as
Agamemnon, and a man that I love and honour with
my soul, and my heart, and my duty, and my life, and
my living, and my uttermost power. He is not, Heav'n
be praised and plessed, any hurt in the world. He is
maintain the pridge most valiantly, with excellent discipline.
There is an ancient lieutenant there, I think
in my very conscience he is as valiant a man as MarkAntony; and he is a man of no estimation in the world;
but I did see him do gallant services.
Gower.
What do you call him?
Flu.
He is call'd ancient Pistol.
Gower.
I know him not.
Enter Pistol.
Flu.
Here is the man.
Pist.
Captain, I thee beseech to do me favours
The duke of Exeter doth love thee well.
Flu.
I, I praise Heav'n, and I have merited some
love at his hands.
Pist. Bardolph, a soldier firm, and sound of heart,
And buxom valour, hath, by cruel fate,
And giddy fortune's furious fickle wheel,
That goddess blind, that stands upon the rolling restless stone—
Flu.
By your patience, ancient Pistol. Fortune is
painted plind, with a muffler before her eyes, to signify
to you, that fortune is plind; and she is painted
also with a wheel, to signify to you, which is the moral
of it, that she is turning, and inconstant, and mutabilities
and variations; and her foot, look you, is
fixed upon a spherical stone, which rolls, and
rolls, and rolls. In good truth, the poet makes a
most excellent description of it. Fortune is an excellent
moral.
Pist.
Fortune is Bardolph's foe, and frowns on him;
-- 42 --
For he hath stoln a Pix,* note and hanged must a' be: damned death!
Let gallows gape for dog, let man go free,
And let not hemp his wind-pipe suffocate.
But Exeter, hath given the doom of death,
For Pix of little price. Therefore, go speak;
The duke will hear thy voice;
And let not Bardolph's vital thread be cut,
With edge of penny-cord, and vile reproach;
Speak, captain, for his life, and I will thee requite.
Flu.
Ancient Pistol, I do partly understand your meaning.
Pist.
Why then, rejoice, therefore.
Flu.
Certainly, ancient, it is not a thing to rejoice
at; for if, look you, he were my brother, I would desire
the duke to use his good pleasure, and put him to executions;
for disciplines ought to be used.
Pist.
Die and be damn'd, and figo for thy friendship.
Flu.
It is well.
Pist.
The fig of Spain—
[Exit Pist.
Flu.
Very good.
Gower.
Why this is an arrant counterfeit rascal, I
remember him, now; a bawd, a cut-purse.
Flu.
I'll assure you, he utter'd as prave words, at the
pridge, as you shall see in a summer's day. But, it is
very well; what he has spoke to me, that is well, I
warrant you, when time is serve.
Gower.
Why, 'tis a gull, a fool, a rogue, that now
and then goes to the wars, to grace himself at his return
to London, under the form of a soldier. Such
fellows are perfect in the great commanders' names, and
they will learn you by rote, where services were done;
at such and such a sconce, at such a breach, at such a
convoy. But you must learn to know such slanders† noteof the age, or else you may be marvellously mistook.
-- 43 --
Flu.
I tell you what, Captain Gower; I do perceive
he is not the man he would gladly make shew to the
world he is; if I find a hole in his coat, I will tell
him my mind. Hear you, the king is coming, and I
must speak with him.
Drum and Colours.Enter the King, and his poor soldiers.
Flu.
Cot pless your majesty.
K. Henry.
How now, Fluellen; cam'st thou from
the bridge?
Flu.
I, so please your majesty. The Duke of Exeterhas very gallantly maintain'd the pridge; the
French is gone off, look you, and there is gallant and
most prave passages; marry th' athversary was have
possession of the pridge, but he is inforced to retire,
and the Duke of Exeter is master of the pridge. I can
tell your majesty, the duke is a prave man.
K. Henry.
What men have you lost, Fluellen?
Flu.
The perdition of th' athversary, hath been very
great, very reasonable great. Marry, for my part, I
think the duke hath lost never a man, but one that is
like to be executed for robbing a church; one Bardolph,
if your majesty know the man; his face is all
bubukles, and whelks, and knobs, and flames of fire,
and his lips blows at his nose, and it is like a coal of
fire, sometimes plue, and sometimes red; but his nose
is executed, and his fire's out.
K. Henry.
We would have such offenders so cut off,
And give express charge, that in all our march,
There shall be nothing taken from the villages,
But shall be paid for, and no French upbraided,
Or yet abused in disdainful language.
When lenity and cruelty play for kingdoms,* note
The gentler gamester is the soonest winner.
-- 44 --
Tucket sounds. Enter Mountjoy.
Mount.
You know me, by my habit.
K. Henry.
Well then, I know thee. What shall I
know of thee?
Mount.
My master's mind.
K. Henry.
Unfold it.
Mount.
Thus says my king; say thou to Harry England,
Although we seemed dead, we did but sleep:
Advantage is a better soldier than rashness.
Tell him we could at Harfleur have rebuk'd him,
But that we thought not good to bruise an injury,
Till it were ripe. Now speak we on our cue,
With voice imperial: England shall repent
His folly, his weakness, and admire
Our suff'rance. Bid him therefore to consider
What must the ransom be, which must proportion
The losses we have born, the subjects we
Have lost, and the disgrace we have digested;
To answer which his pettiness would bow under.
First, for our loss, too poor is his exchequer;
For the effusion of our blood, his army
Too faint a number; and for our disgrace,
Ev'n his own person, kneeling at our feet,
A weak and worthless satisfaction.
To this, defiance add; and for conclusion,
Tell him he hath betray'd his followers,
Whose condemnation is pronounc'd. So far
My king and master; and so much my office.
K. Henry.
Thou do'st thy office, fairly. Turn thee back,
And tell thy king, I do not seek him now,
But could be willing to march on to Calais,
Without impediment.
My people are with sickness much enfeebled,
My numbers lessen'd; and those few I have,
Almost no better than so many French;
Who, when they were in health, I tell thee, herald,
I thought, upon one pair of English legs,
-- 45 --
Did march three Frenchmen. Yet, forgive me, Heav'n,
That I do brag thus; this your air of France
Hath blown that vice in me; I must repent.
Go, therefore, tell thy master here I am;
My ransom is this frail and worthless trunk;
My army but a weak and sickly guard;
Yet, Heav'n before, tell him we will come on,
Though France himself, and such another neighbour,
Stand in our way.
Go bid thy master well advise himself;
If we may pass, we will; if we be hinder'd,
We shall your tawny ground with your red blood
Discolour.
The sum of all our answer is but this;
We would not seek a battle, as we are,
Yet as we are, we say we will not shun it:
So tell your master.
Mount.
I shall deliver so. [Exit.
Glou.
I hope they will not come upon us, now.
K. Henry.
We are in Heav'n's hand, brother, not in theirs:
March to the bridge, it now draws toward night;
Beyond the river we'll encamp ourselves,
And on the morrow bid them march away. [Exeunt.SceneSCENE, the French Camp.
Enter the Constable of France, the Lord Rambures, Orleans, and a Messenger.
Mess.
My lord high constable, the English lie within
fifteen hundred paces of your tents.
Con.
Who hath measur'd the ground?
Mess.
The Lord Grandpree.
Con.
A valiant and most expert gentleman. Would
it were day! Alas poor Harry of England, he longs
not for the dawning, as we do.
Orl.
What a wretched and peevish fellow is this king
of England, to mope with his fat-brain'd followers so
far out of his knowledge?
-- 46 --
Con.
If the English had any apprehension, they
would run away.
Orl.
That they lack; for if their heads had any intellectual
armour, they could never wear such heavy
headpieces.
Ram.
That island of England breeds very valiant
creatures; their mastifs are of unmatchable courage.
Orl.
Foolish curs, that run winking into the mouth
of a Russian bear, and have their heads crush'd like rotten
apples. You may as well say, that's a valiant flea
that dares eat his breakfast on the lip of a lion.
Con.
Just, just; and the men do sympathize with the
mastiffs, in robustious and rough coming on, leaving
their wits with their wives: and then give them great
meals of beef, and iron, and steel, they will eat like
wolves, and fight like devils.
Orl.
Ay; but these English are shrewdly out of beef.
Con.
Then shall we find, to-morrow, they have only
stomachs to eat, and none to fight. Now it is time to
arm; come, shall we about it?
Orl.
'Tis two o'clock; but (let me see) by ten,
We shall have each a hundred Englishmen.* note[Exeunt.† noteEnd of the Third Act.
-- 47 --
ACT IV.SceneSCENE, King Henry's Tent, at Agincourt.‡ note
Enter King Henry, Bedford and Gloucester.
K. Henry. Gloucester, 'tis true that we are in great danger;
The greater, therefore, should our courage be.
-- 48 --
Good-morrow, brother Bedford.
There is some soul of goodness in things evil,
Would men observingly distil it out.
For our bad neighbour make us early stirrers,
Which is both healthful, and good husbandry.
Enter Erpingham.
Good-morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpingham;
A good soft pillow, for that good white head,
Were better than a churlish turf of France.
Erp.
Not so, my liege, this lodging likes me better,
Since I may say, now lie I like a king.
K. Henry.
Lend me thy cloak, Sir Thomas: brothers both,
Commend me to the princes in our camp:
-- 49 --
And anon,
Desire them all to my pavilion.
Glou.
We shall, my liege.
Erp.
Shall I attend your grace?
K. Henry.
No, my good knight;
Go with my brothers to my lords of England:
I and my bosom must debate a while,
And then I would no other company.
Erp.
The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble Harry. [Exeunt.
K. Henry.
God a-mercy, old heart, thou speak'st chearfully. Enter Pistol.* note
Pist. Qui va là?
K. Henry.
A friend.
Pist.
Discuss unto me, art thou officer,
Or art thou base, common and popular?
K. Henry.
I am a gentleman of a company.
Pist.
Trail'st thou the puissant pike?
K. Henry.
Ev'n so; what are you?
Pist.
As good a gentleman as the emperor.
K. Henry.
Then you are better than the king.
Pist.
The king's a bawcock, and a heart of gold,
A lad of life, an imp of fame
Of parents good, of fist most valiant:
I kiss his dirty shoe, and from my heart-string,
I love the lovely bully. What's thy name?
K. Henry.
Harry le Roy.
Pist.
Le Roy! a Cornish name: art thou of Cornishcrew?
K. Henry.
No, I am a Welchman.
Pist.
Know'st thou Fluellin?
K. Henry.
Yes.
Pist.
Tell him I'll knock his leek about his pate,
Upon St. David's day.
-- 50 --
K. Henry.
Do not you wear your dagger in your
cap, that day; lest he knock that about yours.
Pist.
Art thou his friend?
K. Henry.
And his kinsman, too.
Pist.
The figo for thee, then.
My name is Pistol call'd. [Exit.
K. Henry.
It sorts well with your fierceness.
[Manet King Henry.
Enter Fluellen and Gower.
Gow.
Captain Fluellen.
Flu.
So: speak fewer, I pray you. It is the greatest
admiration in the universal orld, when the true and
ancient prerogatifes and laws of the wars is not kept:
if you would take the pains but to examine the wars of
Pompey the Great, you shall find, I warrant you, that
there is no tiddle taddle, nor pribble pabble in Pompey's
camp: I warrant you, you shall find the forms of it,
and the sobrieties of it, and the modesty of it, to be
otherwise.
Gow.
Why the enemy is loud, you hear him all
night.
Flu.
If the enemy is an ass and a fool, and a prating
coxcomb, is it meet, think you, that we should also,
look you, be an ass, and a fool, and a prating coxcomb,
in your own conscience, now?
Gower.
I will speak lower.
Flu.
I pray you, and beseech you, that you will.
[Exeunt.
K. Henry.
Tho' it appear a little out of fashion,
There is much care and valour in this Welchman. Enter two Soldiers, John Bates, and Michael Williams.
Williams.
Brother John Bates, is not that the morning,
which breaks yonder?
Bates.
I think it be, but we have no great cause to
desire the approach of day.
Williams.
We see yonder the beginning of the day,
-- 51 --
but I think we shall never see the end of it. Who goes
there?
K. Henry.
A friend.
Will.
Under what captain serve you?
K. Henry.
Under Sir Thomas Erpingham.
Will.
A good old commander, and a most kind gentleman:
I pray you what thinks he of our estate?
K. Henry.
Even as men wreck'd upon a sand, that
look to be wash'd off, the next tide.
Bates.
He hath not told his thought to the king!
K. Henry.
No; nor is it meet he should: for tho' I
speak it to you, I think the king is but a man, as I am;
the violet smells to him as it doth to me; the element
shews to him as it doth to me; all his senses have but
human conditions: therefore, when he sees reason of
fears, as we do, his fears, out of doubt, be of the same
relish as ours are; yet in reason no man should possess
him with any appearance of fear, lest he, by shewing
it, should dishearten his army.
Bates.
He may shew what outward courage he will:
but I believe, as cold a night as 'tis, he could wish
himself in the Thames, up to the neck; and so I would
he were, and I by him, at all adventures, so we were
quit here.
K. Henry.
By my troth I will speak my conscience
of the king; I think he would not wish himself any
where but where he is.
Bates.
Then would he were here alone; so should he
be sure to be ransomed, and many poor men's lives
saved.
K. Henry.
I dare say you love him not so ill, to
wish him here alone; howsoever you speak this, to feel
other mens mind's. Methinks I could not die any
where so contented, as in the king's company; his
cause being just, and his quarrel honourable.
Will.
That's more than we know.
Bates.
Ay, or more than we should seek after; for
we know enough, if we know we are the king's subjects;
if his cause be wrong, our obedience to the
king wipes the crime of it, out of us.
-- 52 --
Will.
But if his cause be not good, the king himself
hath a heavy reckoning to make; when all those legs
and arms and heads chop'd off in a battle, shall join all
together at the latter day, and cry all, We dy'd at such aplace; some swearing, some crying for a surgeon; some
upon their wives left poor behind them; some upon
the debts they owe; some upon their children rawly left.
I am afear'd there are few die well, that die in battle;
for how can they charitably dispose of any thing, when
blood is their argument? now if these men do not die
well, it will be a black matter for the king, that led them
to it, whom to disobey were against all proportion of
subjection.
K. Henry.
So if a son, that is sent by his father about
merchandize, do fall into some lewd action, and miscarry,
the imputation of his wickedness, by your rule,
should be imposed upon his father, that sent him; but
this is not so: the king is not bound to answer the particular
endings of his soldiers, nor the father of his son;
for they purpose not their death, when they crave
their services. Every subject's duty is the king's, but
every subject's soul is his own. Therefore should
every soldier, in the wars, do as every sick man in his
bed, wash every moth out of his conscience: and dying
so, death is to him advantage: or not dying, the
time was well spent, wherein such preparation was
gained.* note
Will.
'Tis certain every man that dies ill, the ill is
upon his own head; the king is not to answer for it.
Bates.
I do not desire he should answer for me, and
yet I determine to fight lustily for him.
K. Henry.
I myself heard the king say he would not
be ransom'd.
Will.
Ay, he said so, to make us fight chearfully:
but when our throats are cut, he may be ransom'd, and
we ne'er the wiser.
-- 53 --
K. Henry.
If I live to see it, I will never trust his
word, after.
Will.
That's a perilous shot out of an elder-gun, that
a poor and private displeasure can do against a monarch!
You'll never trust his word, after! Come, tis a foolish
saying.
K. Henry.
Your reproof is something too round; I
should be angry with you, if the time were convenient.
Will.
Let it be a quarrel between us, if we live.
K. Henry.
I embrace it.
Will.
How shall I know thee, again?
K. Henry.
Give me any gage of thine, and I will
wear it in my hat, and if ever thou dar'st acknowledge
it, I will make it my quarrel.
Will.
Here's my glove; give me another, of thine.
K. Henry.
There.
Will.
This will I also wear in my cap; if ever thou
come to me and say, after to-morrow, this is my glove;
by this hand I will give thee a box on the ear.
K. Henry.
If ever I live to see it, I will challenge it.
Will.
Thou dar'st as well be hang'd.
K. Henry.
Well, I will do it, though I take thee in
the king's company.
Will.
Keep thy word, and fare thee well.
Bates.
Be friends, you English fools, be friends; we
have French quarrels enow, if you could but tell how
to reckon.
[Exeunt Soldiers.
K. Henry.
Upon the king! let us our lives, our souls,
Our debts, our careful wives, our children, and† note
Our sins, lay on the king; he must bear all.
O hard condition, and twin-born with greatness.
What infinite heart-ease must kings neglect,
That private men enjoy? and what have kings,
That privates have not too, save ceremony?
-- 54 --
And what art thou, thou idol ceremony?
Art thou ought else but place, degree, and form,
Creating awe and fear, in other men?
Wherein thou art less happy, being fear'd,
Than they in fearing.
What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet,
But poison'd flatt'ry? O be sick, great greatness,
And bid thy ceremony give thee cure.
Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggar's knee,
Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream,
'Tis not the balm, the scepter and the ball,
The sword, the mace, the crown imperial,
No, not all these thrice-gorgeous ceremonies,* note
Not all these laid in bed majestical,
Can sleep so soundly, as the wretched slave,
Who, with a body fill'd, and vacant mind,
Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread,
Never sees horrid night, the child of hell;
But, like a lacquey, from the rise to set,
Sweats in the eye of Phœbus; and, all night,
Sleeps in Elysium; next day, after dawn,
Doth rise, and help Hyperion to his horse;
And follows so the ever-running year,
With profitable labour to his grave:
And (but for ceremony) such a wretch,
Winding up days with toil, and nights with sleep,
Hath the fore-hand, and vantage of a king† note
Enter Erpingham.
Erp.
My lord, your nobles, jealous of your absence,
Seek through your camp to find you.
-- 55 --
K. Henry.
Good old knight,
Collect them all together at my tent.
steel my soldiers hearts;
Possess them not with fear; take from them now,
The sense of reck'ning of th' opposed numbers,
Which stand before them. [Exit.SceneSCENE, the French Camp.
Enter the Dauphin, Orleans, and Constable.
Orl.
The sun doth gild our armour up, my lords.
Con.
To horse, you gallant princes, straight to horse,
Do but behold yon poor, and starved band,
And your fair shew shall suck away their souls,
Leaving them but the shells and husks of men.
Then let the trumpets sound,
The tucket sonance, and the note to mount:
For our approach shall so much dare the field,
That England shall crouch down in fear, and yield. Enter Burgundy.
Burg.
Why do you stay so long, my lords of France?† note
Yon island carrions, desp'rate of their bones,
Ill-favour'dly become the morning field;
-- 56 --
Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose,
And our air shakes them, passing scornfully.
Big Mars seems bankrupt, in their beggar'd host,
And faintly, through a rusty beaver peeps.
Their horsemen sit, like fixed candlesticks,
With torch-staves in their hand; and their poor jades
Lob down their heads, drooping the hide and hips:
And their executors, the knavish crows,
Fly o'er them, all impatient for their hour.
Description cannot suit itself in words,
To demonstrate the life of such a battle,
In life so liveless, as it shews itself.
Con.
They've said their prayers, and they stay for death.
Daup.
Shall we go send them dinners, and fresh suits,
And give their fasting horses provender,* note
And, after, fight with them?
Con.
I stay but for my guard. On, to the field;
Come, come away?
The sun is high, and we out-wear the day. [Exeunt.SceneSCENE, King Henry's Tent.
Enter Gloucester, Bedford, Exeter, Salisbury, and Westmoreland.
Glou.
Where is the king?
Bed.
The king himself is rode to view their battle.
West.
Of fighting men, they have full threescore thousand.
Exe.
That's five to one; besides, they are all fresh.
Sal.
Heav'n's arm strike with us, 'tis a fearful odds.
Heav'n be wi'you, princes all; I'll to my charge.
-- 57 --
If we no more meet, till we meet in Heav'n,
Then joyfully, my noble lord of Bedford,
My dear lord Glo'ster, and my good lord Exeter,
And my kind kinsman, warriors all, adieu!
Exe.
Farewel, kind lord: fight valiantly to-day.
And yet I do thee wrong, to mind thee of it,
For thou art made of the firm truth of valour. [Exit Salisbury.
Bed.
He is as full of valour as of kindness;
Princely in both. Enter King Henry.
West.
O, that we now had here,
But one ten thousand of those men in England,
That do no work, to-day.
K. Henry.
What's he, that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my good cousin,† note
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow,
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
I am not, cousin, covetous of gold;
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my lord, wish not a man from England;
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he who hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart, his passport shall be made,
And crowns, for convoy, put into his purse.
We would not die in that man's company,
Who fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is call'd the feast of Crispian.
He that out-lives this day, and comes safe home,
-- 58 --
Will yearly on the vigil, feast his neighbours,
And say, to-morrow is Saint Crispian.
Then will he strip his sleeve, and shew his scars:
Old men forget; yet shall not all forget,
What feats they did, that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in their mouths as houshold words,
Harry the king, Bedford, and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury, and Glo'ster,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers.
Enter Salisbury.
Sal.
My sov'reign lord, bestow yourself with speed:
The French are bravely in their battles set,
And will, with all expedience, charge on us.
K. Henry.
All things are ready, if our minds are so.
West.
Perish the man, whose mind is backward now.
K. Henry.
Thou dost not wish more help from England, cousin?
West.
Heav'n's will, my liege. Would you and I alone,
Without more help, could fight this royal battle.
K. Henry.
Why, now, thou hast unwish'd, ten thousand men:
Which likes me better, than to wish us one.
You know your places. Heav'n be with you all. A Tucket sounds. Enter Mountjoy.
Mount.
Once more, I come to know of thee, king Harry,
If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound,
Before thy most assured overthrow;
For certainly, thou art so near the gulf,
Thou needs must be englutted. Thus, in mercy,
The constable desires thee thou wilt mind
-- 59 --
Thy followers of repentance; that their souls
May make a peaceful, and a sweet retire,
From off these fields; where, wretches, their poor bodies
Must lie and fester.
K. Henry.
Who hath sent thee, now?
Mount.
The Constable of France.
K. Henry.
I pray thee, bear my former answer back.
Bid them atchieve me, and then sell my bones.
Good Heav'n! why should they mock poor fellows thus?
The man that once did sell the lion's skin,
While the beast liv'd, was kill'd with hunting him.
And many of our bodies, shall, no doubt,
Find native graves; upon the which, I trust,
Shall witness live in brass, of this day's work.
Let me speak proudly; tell the constable,
We are but warriors for the working-day.
Our gayness, and our gilt are all be-smirch'd,
With rainy marching in the painful field.
But, by the mass, our hearts are in their trim;
And my poor soldiers tell me, yet ere night,
They'll be in fresher robes, or they will pluck
The gay new coats o'er the French soldiers' heads,
And turn them out of service.
Come thou, no more, for ransom, gentle herald,
They shall have none, I swear, but these, my joints;
Which, if they have, as I will leave 'em them,
Shall leave them little: so tell the constable.
Mount.
I shall, King Harry, and so fare thee well. [Exit.
K. Henry.
Now soldiers, march away.
And how thou pleasest, Heav'n, dispose the day. [Exeunt.
-- 60 --
Alarm. Excursions. Enter Pistol, French soldier, and Boy.* note
Pist.
Yield, cur.
Fr. Sol.
Je pense que vous estes un gentilhomme de bonqualité.
Pist.
Quality me. Art thou a gentleman? What
is thy name? discuss.
Pist.
Signieur Dewe, should be a gentleman.
Perpend my words, O Signieur Dewe, and mark;
O Signieur Dewe, thou diest on point of fox,
Except, O Signieur Dewe, thou give to me
Egregious ransom.
Fr. Sol.
O prennez misericorde, ayez pitié de moy.
Pist.
Moy shall not serve, I will have forty moys;
or I will fetch thy rym out at thy throat, in drops of
crimson blood.
Fr. Sol.
Est-il impossible d' echapper la force de tonbras!
Pist.
Brass, cur? thou damned, and luxurious mountain
goat, offer'st me brass?
Fr. Sol.
O pardonnez moy.
Pist.
Say'st thou me so. Is that a ton of moys?
Come hither, boy; ask me this slave, in French,
What is his name.
Boy.
Ecoutez! comment estes vous appellé?
Fr. Sol.
Monsieur le Fer.
Boy.
He says, his name is Mr. Fer.
Pist.
Mr. Fer! I'll fer him, and ferk him, and
ferret him. Discuss the same in French unto him.
-- 61 --
Boy.
I do not know the French for fer, and ferret,
and ferk.
Pist.
Bid him prepare, for I will cut his throat.
Fr. Sol.
Que dit-il, Monsieur?
Boy.
Il me commande de vous dire, que vous vousteniez prest, car ce soldat icy est disposeé, tout à cette heure,de couper vostre gorge.
Pist.
Owy, couper gorge, mafoy, peasant. Unless
thou give me crowns; brave crowns? or mangled
shalt thou be, by this, my sword.
Fr. Sol.
O, je vous supplie, pour l'amour de Dieu, mepardonner, je suis gentilhomme de bonne maison, gardez mavie, & je vous donneray deux cent ecus.
Pist.
What are his words?
Boy.
He prays you to save his life; he is a gentleman,
of a good house, and for his ransom, he will
give you two hundred crowns.
Pist.
Tell him, my fury shall abate, and I the
crowns will take.
Fr. Sol.
Petit monsieur, que dit-il?
Boy.
Encore qu'il est contre son jurement, à pardonneraucun prisonnier, neantmoins, pour les ecus que vousl'avez promis, il est content de vous donner la liberté, lefranchisement.
Fr. Sol.
Sur mes genoux je vous donne milles remercimens,& je m'estime heureux, que je suis tombé entre lesmains d' un Chevalier, je pense, le plus brave, valiant,& tres estimé Seigneur, d' Angleterre.
Pist.
Expound unto me, boy.
Boy.
He gives you, upon his knees, a thousand
thanks, and esteems himself happy, that he hath fall'n
into the hands of one, as he thinks, the most brave,
valorous, and thrice worthy seigneur of England.
Pist.
And so he has.
As I suck blood, I will some mercy shew.
Follow me, cur.
Boy. Suivez le grand capitain.[Exeunt Pist and Fr. Sol.
-- 62 --
Enter Constable, Orleans, Bourbon, Dauphin, and Rambures.
Daup. Mort de ma vie. All is confounded, all!
Reproach, and everlasting shame
Sit mocking in our plumes. [A short alarm.
Const.
Why, all our ranks are broke.
Daup.
O, perdurable shame! Let's stab ourselves.
Are these the wretches that we play'd at dice for?
Orl.
Is this the king we sent to for his ransom?
Bourb.
Shame, and eternal shame, nothing but shame.
The man that will not follow Burgundy,
Let him go hence, and with his cap in hand,
Like a base pander, hold the chamber-door,
Whilst, by a slave, no gentler than a dog,
His fairest daughter is contaminated.
Const.
Disorder, that hath spoil'd us, friend us now?
Let us on heaps go offer up our lives.
Orl.
We are enow, yet living in the field,
To smother up the English in our throng,
If any order might be thought upon.
Bourb.
The devil take all order now; I'll to the throng.
Let life be short, else shame will be too long. [Exeunt.Alarm. Enter the King, and his train.
K. Henry.
Well have ye done, thrice valiant countrymen;
But all's not done, the French yet keep the field.
Exe.
The duke of York commends him to your majesty.
K. Henry.
Lives he, good uncle? Thrice within this hour,
I saw him down; thrice up again, and fighting:
From helmet, to the spur, all bleeding o'er.
-- 63 --
Exe.
In which array, brave soldier, doth he lie,
Larding the plain; and by his bloody side,
(Yoke-fellow to his honour-owing wounds)
The noble earl of Suffolk also lies.
Suffolk first died, and York, all haggled over,
Comes to him, where in gore he lay ensteep'd,
Kisses the gashes,
That bloodily did yawn upon his face,
And cries aloud, tarry, my cousin Suffolk,
My soul shall thine keep company to Heav'n:
Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly a-breast,
As in this glorious and well-foughten field
We kept together in our chivalry.
Upon these words, I came, and cheer'd him up;
He smil'd me in the face, gave me his hand,
And, with a feeble gripe, says Dear my lord,
Commend my service to my sovereign.
So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck
He threw his wounded arm, and kist his lips,
And so espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd
A testament of noble-ending love.
The pretty and sweet manner of it forc'd
Those waters from me, which I would have stop'd,
But I had not so much of man in me,
But all my mother came into mine eyes,
And gave me up to tears.* note
K. Henry.
I blame you not;
For hearing this, I must perforce compound
With mistful eyes, or they will issue too.
[Alarm.
But hark. What new alarum is this same?
The French have re-inforc'd their scatter'd men.
Then every soldier kill his prisoners.† note
Give the word through. [Exeunt.
-- 64 --
Enter Fluellen and Gower.
Flu.
Kill the poys, and the luggage! 'Tis expresly
against the law of arms. 'Tis as arrant a piece
of knavery, mark you now, as can be desired in your
conscience now; is it not?
Gower.
'Tis certain, there's not a boy left alive;
and the cowardly rascals that run away from the battle,
ha' done this slaughter: besides, they have burn'd
or carried away, all that was in the king's tent;
wherefore, the king most worthily hath caus'd ev'ry
soldier to cut his prisoner's throat. O, 'tis a gallant
king!
Flu.
I, he was porn at Monmouth, Captain Gower.
What call you the town's name, where Alexanderthe pig was born?
Gower.
Alexander the Great?
Flu.
Why, I pray you, is not pig, great? The
pig, or the great, or the mighty, or the huge, or the
magnanimous, are all one reckonings, save the phrase
is a little variations.
Gower.
I think Alexander the Great, was born in
Macedon, his father was called Philip of Macedon, as
I take it.
Flu.
I think it is in Macedon where Alexander is
porn.* note I tell you, captain, if you look in the maps
of the orld, I warrant that you sall find, in the comparisons
between Macedon and Monmouth, that the
situations, look you, is both alike. There is a river
in Macedon, there is also a river at Monmouth: it is
call'd Wye at Monmouth, but it is out of my prains,
what is the name of the other river. But it is all one,
'tis as like, as my fingers to my fingers, and there is
salmons in both. If you mark Alexander's life well,
Harry of Monmouth's life is come after it indifferent
well, for there is figures in all things. Alexander,
-- 65 --
Heav'n knows, and you know, in his rages, and his furies,
and his wraths, and his cholers, and his moods,
and his displeasures, and his indignations; and also,
being a little intoxicates in his prains, did, in his ales,
and his angers, look you, kill his best friend, Clytus.
Gower.
Our king is not like him in that, he never
kill'd any of his friends.
Flu.
It is not well done, mark you now, to take
the tales out of my mouth, ere it is finished. I speak
but in figures and comparisons. As Alexander kill'd
his friend, Clytus, being in his ales and his cups, so
also Harry Monmouth, being in his right wits, and his
good judgments, turn'd away the fat knight, with the
great-pelly; he was full of jests and gypes, and knaveries,
and mockeries. I have forgot his name.
Gower.
Sir John Falstaff.
Flu.
That is he. I tell you, there is good men
porn at Monmouth.
Gower.
Here comes his majesty.
Alarum. Enter King Henry, Lords, and Attendants. Flourish.
K. Henry.
I was not angry since I came to France,
Until this instant. Take a trumpet, herald,
Ride thou unto the horsemen on yon hill:
If they will fight with us, bid them come down,
Or void the field; they do offend our sight.
If they'll do neither, we will come to them,
And make them sker away, as swift as stones
Enforced from the old Assyrian slings:
Besides, we'll cut the throats of those we have.* note
Go, and tell them so.
-- 66 --
Enter Mountjoy.
Exe.
Here comes the herald of the French, my liege.
Glou.
His eyes are humbler than they us'd to be.
K. Henry.
How now. What means their herald? know'st thou not
That I have fin'd these bones of mine for ransom?
Com'st thou again for ransom?
Mount.
No, great king:
I come to thee for charitable licence,
That we may wander o'er this bloody field,
To book our dead, and then to bury them;
To sort our nobles from our common men;
For many of our princes (woe the while)
Lye drown'd and soak'd in mercenary blood:
So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbs
In blood of princes, while their wounded steeds
Fret fet-lock deep in gore, and with wild rage
Yerk out their armed heels at their dead masters.
O give us leave, great king,
To view the field in safety, and dispose
Of their dead bodies.
K. Henry.
I tell thee truly, herald,
I know not if the day be ours, or no,
For yet a many of your horsemen peer,
And gallop o'er the field.
Mount.
The day is yours.
K. Henry.
Praised be God, and not our strength, for it!
What is this castle call'd, that stands hard by?
Mount.
They call it Agincourt.
K. Henry.
Then call we this the field of Agincourt,
Fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus.
Flu.
Your grandfather, of famous memory, an't
please your majesty, and your great uncle, Edward the
plack prince of Wales, as I have read in the chronicles,
fought a most prave pattle here in France.
K. Henry.
They did, Fluellen.
Flu.
Your majesty says very true: if your majesties
is remember'd of it, the Welchmen did good service in a
-- 67 --
garden where leeks did grow, wearing leeks in their
Monmouth caps, which your majesty knows to this
hour is an honourable padge of the service; and I do
believe your majesty takes no scorn to wear the leek,
upon St. Tavie's day.
K. Henry.
I wear it, for a memorable honour:
For I am Welch, you know, good countryman.
Flu.
All the water in the Wye cannot wash your majesty's
Welsh plood out of your pody, I can tell you
that: Heav'n preserve it as long as it pleases his grace
and majesty too.* note
K. Henry.
Thanks, good my countryman.
Flu.
I am your majesty's countryman, I care not
who know it: I will confess it to all the orld, I need
not be asham'd of your majesty, praised be Heav'n, so
long as your majesty is an honest man.
K. Henry.
Heav'n keep me so.
Enter Williams.
Our heralds go with him;
[Exeunt Heralds, with Mountjoy.
Bring me just notice of the numbers dead,
On both our parts. Call yonder fellow hither.
Exe.
Soldier, you must come to the king.
K. Henry.
Soldier, why wear'st thou thy glove in thy cap?
Will.
An't please your majesty, 'tis the gage of one
that I should fight withal, if he be alive.
K. Henry.
An Englishman?
Will.
An't please your majesty, a rascal that swagger'd
with me, last night, who, if alive, and if ever
he dare to challenge this glove, I have sworn to take
him a box o'th' ear; or if I can see my glove in his
hat, which he swore as he was a soldier he would
wear, if alive, I will strike it out soundly.
K. Henry.
What think you, Captain Fluellen, is it
fit the soldier keep his oath?
-- 68 --
Flu.
He is a craven and a villain else, an't please
your majesty, in my conscience.
K. Henry.
It may be his enemy is a gentleman of
great sort, quite from the answer of his degree.
Flu.
Though he be as good a gentlemen as the devil,
or Lucifer and Belzebub himself, it is necessary,
look your grace, that he keep his vow and his oath:
if he be perjur'd, see you now, his reputation is as
arrant a villain and a jacksawce, as ever his black shoe
trod upon God's ground and his earth, in my conscience,
law.
K. Henry.
Then keep thy vow, sirrah, when thou
meet'st the fellow.
Will.
So I will, my liege, as I live.
K. Henry.
Who serv'st thou under?
Will.
Under Captain Gower, my liege.
Flu.
Gower is a good captain, and is good knowledge
and literature in the wars.
K. Henry.
Call him hither to me, soldier.
Will.
I will, my liege.
[Exit.
K. Henry.
Here, Fluellen, wear thou this favour
for me, and stick it in thy hat; when Alanson and myself
were down together, I pluck'd this glove from
his helm; if any man challenge this, he is a friend to
Alanson, and an enemy to our person; if thou encounter
any such, apprehend him, if thou dost love me.
Flu.
Your grace does me as great honour as can be
desired in the hearts of his subjects: I would fain see
the man that has but two legs, that shall find himself
agriev'd at this glove.
K. Henry.
Know'st thou Gower?
Flu.
He is my dear friend, and please you.
K. Henry.
I pray thee go seek him, and bring him to my tent.
Flu.
I will fetch him.
[Exit.
K. Henry.
Brother Glo'ster,
Follow Fluellen, closely at the heels.
The glove, which I have given him for a favour,
May haply purchase him a box o'th' ear.
It is the soldier's: I by bargain should
-- 69 --
Wear it myself.
If that the soldier strike him, as I judge
By his blunt bearing he will keep his word,
Some sudden mischief may arise from it:
For I do know Fluellen valiant,
And touch'd with choler, hot as gunpowder,
Follow, and see there be no harm between them.
Come you with me, uncle of Exeter.
[Exeunt.Enter Gower and Williams.
Will.
I warrant it is to knight you, captain.
Enter Fluellen.
Flu.
Captain, I beseech you now, come apace to the
king: there is more good toward you, peradventure,
than is in your knowlege to dream of.
Will.
Sir, know you this glove?
Flu.
Know the glove? I know the glove is a glove.
Will.
I know this, and thus I challenge it.
[Strikes him.
Flu.
'Sbud, an arrant traitor as any's in the universal
orld.
Gower.
How now, sir, you villain!
Will.
Do you think I'll be forsworn?
Flu.
Stand away, Captain Gower, I will give treason
his payment into plows, I warrant you.
Will.
I am no traitor.
Flu.
That's a lie in thy throat. I charge you, in
his majesty's name, apprehend him, he's a friend of
the Duke of Alanson's.
Enter Gloucester.
Glou.
How now, how now, what's the matter?
Flu.
My Lord of Gloucester, here is, praised be
Heav'n for it, a most contagious treason come to light,
look you, as you shall desire in a summer's day.
-- 70 --
Enter King Henry and Exeter.
K. Henry.
How now, what's the matter?
Flu.
My liege, here is a villain and a traitor, that,
look your grace, has struck the glove which your
majesty is take out of the helmet of Alanson.
Will.
My liege, this was my glove, here is the fellow
of it; and he that I gave it to in change, promis'd
to wear it in his hat; I promis'd to strike him, if he
did; I met this man with my glove in his hat, and I
have been as good as my word.
Flu.
Your majesty hears now, saving your majesty's
manhood, what an arrant rascally, beggarly, lowsy
knave it is; I hope your majesty is pear me testimonies,
and witnesses, and avouchments, that this is the
glove of Alanson, that your majesty is give me, in your
conscience now.
K. Henry.
Give me thy glove, soldier; look, nere
is the fellow of it: 'twas me, indeed, thou promised'st
to strike, and thou hast given me most bitter terms.
Flu.
An please your majesty, let his neck answer
for it, if there is any martial law in the orld.
K. Henry.
How canst thou make me satisfaction?
Will.
All offences, my lord, come from the heart;
never came, any from mine, that might offend your
majesty.
K. Henry.
It was ourself thou didst abuse.
Will.
Your majesty came not like yourself; you appear'd
to me but as a common man;* note witness the
night, your garments, your lowliness; and what your
highness suffer'd under that shape, I beseech you, take
it for your fault, and not mine; for had you been as
I took you for, I made no offence; therefore I beseech
your highness pardon me.
-- 71 --
K. Henry.
Here, uncle Exeter, fill the glove with crowns,† note
And give it to the soldier. Keep it, fellow,
And wear it for an honour in thy cap,
Till I do challenge it. Give him the crowns:
And, captain, you must needs be friends with him.
Flu.
By this day and light, the fellow has mettle in
his pody; hold, there is twelve-pence for you; and
I pray you to serve Heav'n, and keep you out of prawls
and prabbles, and quarrels, and dissentions, and I
warrant you it is the better for you.
Will.
I will none of your money.
Flu.
It is with a good will; I can tell you it will
serve you to mend your shoes; come, wherefore
should you be so pashful: your shoes are not so good;
'tis a good silling, I warrant you, or I will change it.
Will.
Psha!
[Exit.Enter Herald.
K. Henry.
Now, herald, are the dead number'd?
Her.
Here is the number of the slaughter'd French.
K. Henry.
Read them, good uncle.
Exe. Charles Duke of Orleans, nephew to the king;
John Duke of Bourbon, and Lord Bouchiqualt:
Of other lords and barons, knights and 'squires,
Full fifteen hundred, besides common men.
K. Henry.
Here was a royal fellowship of death.
Where is the number of our English dead?
Exe. Edward the Duke of York, the Earl of Suffolk,
Sir Richard Ketley, David Gam, Esquire;
None else of name; and of all other men,
But five and twenty.
K. Henry.
O Heav'n, thy arm was here!
-- 72 --
Come, go we in procession to the village:
And be it death proclaimed throughout our host,
To boast of this, or take that praise from God,
Which is his only.
Flu.
Is it not lawful, and please your majesty, to tell
how many is kill'd?
K. Henry.
Yes, captain; but with this acknowledgement,
That Heav'n fought for us.
Flu.
Yes, o' my conscience, he did us great good.
K. Henry.
Do we all holy rites; and be
The dead with charity enclos'd in clay.
And then to Calais, and to England then,
Where ne'er from France arriv'd more happy men. [Exeunt.† noteEnd of the Fourth Act.
noteACT V.‡ [Footnote:SceneSCENE, France.Enter Fluellen and Gower.
Gower.
Nay, that's right: but why wear you your leek,
to-day? St. David's day is past.
Flu.
There is occasions and causes why and wherefore,
-- 73 --
in all things. I will tell you as a friend, Captain
Gower; the rascally, scald, beggarly, lowsy, pragging
knave, Pistol, which you, and yourself, and all the 'orld
know to be no petter than a fellow (look you now) of
no merits; he is come to me, and prings me pread and
salt, yesterday, look you, and bid me eat my leak; it
was in a place where I could breed no contentions
with him; but I will be so pold as to wear it in my cap
till I see him once again, and then I will tell him a little
piece of my desires.
'Tis no matter for his swelling, nor his turky-cocks;
God plesse you, aunchient Pistol; you scurvy,
lowsy knave, God plesse you.
Pist.
Ha! art thou beldam? dost thou thirst, base Trojan,
To have me fold up Parcas' fatal web?
Hence, I am qualmish at the smell of leek.
Flu.
I peseech you heartily, scurvy, lowsy knave,
at my desires, and my requests, and my petitions, to
eat, look you, this leek, because, look you, you do
not love it, and your affections, and your appetites,
and your digestions do not agree with it; I would
desire you to eat it.
Pist.
Not for Cadwallader, and all his goats.
Flu.
There is one goat for you.
[Strikes him.
Will you be so good, scald knave, as eat it?
Pist.
Base Trojan, thou shalt die.
Flu.
You say very true, scald knave, when Heav'n's
will is: I will desire you to live, in the mean time, and
eat your victuals; come, there is sawce for it—
[Strikes him.] You call'd me, yesterday, mountain-squire,
but I will make you, to-day, a squire of low degree.
-- 74 --
I pray you fall to; if you can mock a leek, you
can eat a leek.
Gow.
Enough, captain, you have astonish'd him.
Flu.
I say I will make him eat some part of my leek,
or I will peat his pate four days and four nights. Pite,
I pray you, it is good for you green wound, and your
ploody coxcomb.
Pist.
Must I bite?
Flu.
Yes, out of doubt, and out of questions too,
and ambiguities.
Pist.
By this leek, I will most horribly revenge; I
eat and swear—
Flu.
Eat, I pray you; will you have some more
sawce to your leek? there is not enough leek to swear
by.
Pist.
Quiet thy cudgel, thou dost see I eat.
Flu.
Much good do you, scald knave, heartily.
Nay, pray you throw none away, the skin is good for
your proken coxcomb: when you take occasion to see
leeks hereafter, I pray you mock at 'em, that's all.
Pist.
Good.
Flu.
Ay, leeks is good; hold you, there is a groat
to heal your pate.
Pist.
Me a groat?
Flu.
Yes, verily, and in truth you shall take it, or I
have another leek in my pocket, which you shall eat.
Pist.
I take thy groat, in earnest of revenge.
Flu.
If I owe you any thing, I will pay you in cudgels,
you shall be a woodmonger, and buy nothing of
me but cudgels; Heav'n pe with you, and keep you,
and heal your pate.
[Exit.
Pist.
All hell shall stir, for this.
Gow.
Go, go, you are a counterfeit cowardly knave:
will you mock at an ancient tradition, began upon an
honourable respect, and worn as a memorable trophy
of predeceased valour, and dare not avouch in your
deeds any of your words? I have seen you gleeking
and galling at this gentleman, twice or thrice. You
thought, because he could not speak English in the native
garb, he could not therefore handle an English
-- 75 --
cudgel; you find it otherwise, and henceforth let a
Welsh correction teach you a good English condition:
fare you well.
[Exit.
Pist.
Doth fortune play the housewife with me, now?
Old I do wax, and from my weary limbs,
Honour is cudgell'd. Well, bawd will I turn,
And something lean to cut-purse of quick hand,
To England will I steal,
And patches will I get unto these scars,
And swear I got them in the Gallia wars. [Exit.Enter at one Door, King Henry, Exeter, Bedford, and
other Lords; at another, the French King, Queen
Isabel, Princess Katharine, the Duke of Burgundy,
and other French Lords.
K. Henry.
Peace to this meeting, wherefore we are met:
Unto our brother France, and to our sister,
Health, and fair time of day; joy and good wishes
To our most fair and princely cousin Katharine;
And as a branch and member of this royalty,
By whom this great assembly is contriv'd,
We do salute you, Duke of Burgundy.
And princes French and peers, health to you all.
Fr. King.
Right joyous are we to behold your face.
Most worthy brother England, fairly met,
So are you, princes English, every one.
Q. Isab.
So happy be the issue, brother England,
Of this good day, and of this gracious meeting,
As we are now glad to behold your eyes;
Your eyes, which hitherto have borne in them
Against the French, that met them in their bent,
The fatal balls of murdering basilisks:
The venom of such looks, we fairly hope,
Have lost their quality, and that this day
Shall change all griefs and quarrels, into love.
K. Henry.
To cry amen to that thus we appear.
Q. Isab.
You English princes all, I do salute you.
Bur.
My duty to you both, on equal love;
Great Kings of France and England. That I've labour'd,
-- 76 --
With all my wits, my pains, and strong endeavours,
To bring your most imperial majesties
Unto this bar, and royal interview,
Your mightinesses, on both parts can witness.
Since then my office hath so far prevail'd,
That face to face, and royal eye to eye,
You have congreeted. Let it not disgrace me,
If I demand, before this royal view,
What rub, or what impediment there is,
Why that the naked, poor and mangled peace,
Dear nurse of arts, plenties, and joyful births,
Should not, in this best garden of the world,
Our fertile France, put up her lovely visage?* note
K. Henry.
If, Duke of Burgundy, you would the peace,
Whose want gives growth to th' imperfections
Which you have cited; you must buy that peace,
With full accord to all our just demands;
Whose tenures, and particular effects,
You have enschedul'd briefly in your hands.
Burg.
The king hath heard them; to the which, as yet
There is no answer made.
K. Henry.
Well then, the peace,
Which you before so urg'd, lies in his answer.
Fr. King.
I have but with a cursorary eye
O'er-glanc'd the articles. Pleaseth your grace
T' appoint some of your council, presently,
To sit with us, once more, with better heed,
To re-survey them; we will suddenly
Pass, or accept, and peremptory answer.
K. Henry.
Brother, we shall.
My good lords, go with the king;
And take with you free pow'r to ratify,
Augment, or alter, as your wisdoms best
-- 77 --
Shall see advantage for our dignity,
And we'll consign thereto. Will you, fair sister,
Go with the princes, or stay here with us?
Q. Isa.
Our gracious brother, I will go with them:
Haply a woman's voice may do some good,
When articles too nicely urg'd be stood on.
K. Henry.
Yet leave our cousin Katharine here with us,
She is our capital demand, compris'd
Within the fore-rank of our articles.
Q. Isa.
She hath good leave. [Exeunt.Manent King Henry, and Katharine.
K. Henry.
Fair Katharine, most fair,
Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms,
Such as will enter at a lady's ear,
And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart?
Kath.
Your majesty shall mock at me, I cannot
speak your England.
K. Henry.
O, fair Katharine, if you will love me
soundly with your French heart, I will be glad to hear
you confess it brokenly with your English tongue.
Do you like me, Kate?
Kath.
Pardonnez moy, I cannot tell vat is like me.
K. Henry.
An angel is like you, Kate, and you are
like an angel.
Lady.
De tongues of de mans is be full of deceits.
K. Henry.
I'faith, Kate, my wooing is fit for thy
understanding: I am glad thou canst speak no better
English, for if thou could'st, thou would'st find me
such a plain king, that thou would'st think I had sold
my farm to buy my crown. I know no ways to mince
it in love, but directly to say, I love you. How say
you, lady?
Kath.
Sauf vostre honneur, me understand well.
K. Henry.
Marry, if you would put me to verses,
or to dance, for your sake, Kate, why you undid me.
-- 78 --
If I could win a lady at leap-frog, or by vaulting into
my saddle, with my armour on my back, under the
correction of bragging be it spoken, I should quickly
leap into a wife. I speak plain soldier. If thou canst
love me for this, take me; if not, to say to thee that I
shall die, is true; but for thy love, by the lord, no: yet
I love thee, too, And whilst thou liv'st, Kate, take a
fellow of a plain, and uncoined constancy; for a good
leg will fall, a straight back will stoop; but a good
heart, Kate, is the sun and the moon; or rather the
sun, and not the moon; for it shines bright, and never
changes, but keeps its course truly. If thou
would'st have such a one, take me; take a soldier;
take a king.
Kath.
Is it possible dat I should love de enemy of
France?
K. Henry.
No, it is not possible that you should
love the enemy of France, Kate; but in loving me,
you would love the friend of France; for I love France,
so well, that I will not part with a village of it; I
will have it all mine; and, Kate, when France is mine,
and I am yours, then yours is France, and you are
mine. But Kate, dost thou understand thus much
English; canst thou love me?
Kate.
I cannot tell.
K. Henry.
Can any of your neighbours tell, Kate?
Come, I know thou lovest me; and at night, when
you come into your closet, you'll dispraise those parts
in me, that you love with your heart. If ever thou
beest mine, Kate, (as I have saving faith within me
tells me thou shalt) I get thee with scambling, and
thou must therefore needs prove a good soldier-breeder.
Shall not thou and I, between St. Dennis and St.
George, compound a boy, half French, half English,
that shall go to Constantinople, and take the Turk by
the beard? shall we not? What say'st thou, my fair
Flower-de-luce?* note
-- 79 --
Kath.
I do not know dat; but I know your majeste
ave fause Frenche enough to deceive the most
sage damoisel dat is en France.
K. Henry.
By mine honour, in true English, I love
thee, Kate; by which honour, I dare not swear thou
lovest me; yet my blood begins to flatter me, that
thou dost. Wilt thou have me?
Kath.
Dat is as it shall please le roy mon pere.
K. Henry.
Nay, it will please him well, Kate; it
shall please him, Kate.
Kath.
Den it shall also content me.
K. Henry.
Upon that I kiss your hand, and call
you my queen.
Kath.
Dat is not be de fashion pour les ladies of
France, to kiss before marriage.
K. Henry.
O, Kate, nice customs curt'sy to great
kings. Therefore, patiently, and yielding. [Kissing
her.] You have witchcraft in your lips, Kate; there
is more eloquence in a touch of them, than in the
tongues of the French council; and they should sooner
persuade Harry of England, than a general petition of
monarchs. Here comes your father.
Enter the French King and Queen, with French and English Lords.
Burg.
Heav'n save your majesty! My royal cousin,
teach you our princess English?
K. Henry.
I would have her learn, my fair cousin,
how perfectly I love her; and that is good English.
Burg.
Is she apt?
K. Henry.
Our tongue is rough, and our condition
not smooth; so that having neither the voice nor the
heart of flattery, about me, I cannot so conjure up the
spirit of love in her, that he will appear in his true
likeness. Shall Kate be my wife?
Fr. King.
So please you.
West.
The king hath granted every article:
His daughter first; and then in sequel all,
According to their firm proposed nature.
Exe.
Only he hath not yet subscribed this:
Where your majesty demands, That the king of
-- 80 --
France, having occasion to write for matter of grant,
shall name your highness, in this form: Præclarissimusfilius noster Henricus Rex Angliæ & hæres Franciæ.
Fr. King.
Yet this I have not, brother, so deny'd,
But your request shall make me let it pass.
K. Henry.
I pray you then, in love and dear alliance,
Let that one article rank with the rest,
And thereupon give me your daughter.
Fr. King.
Take her, fair son, and from this hour,
May never war advance
His bleeding sword 'twixt England and fair France.
K. Henry.
Now welcome, Kate; and bear me witness all,
That here I kiss her, as my sovereign queen.
Prepare we for our marriage; on which day,
My lord of Burgundy, we'll take your oath,
And all the peers, for surety of our league.
Then shall I swear to Kate, and you to me,
And may our oaths well kept, and prosp'rous be.* note[Exeunt.
