HENRY V.
-- ii --
Introductory matter
Persons Represented.
King Henry the Fifth.
Duke of Gloster [Duke of Gloucester], brother to the king.
Duke of Bedford, brother to the king.
Duke of York, uncle to the king.
Duke of Exeter, uncle to the king.
Earl of Salisbury.
Earl of Westmoreland.
Earl of Warwick.
Archbishop of Canterbury.
Bishop of Ely.
Earl of Cambridge, conspirator against the king.
Lord Scroop, conspirator against the king.
Sir Thomas Grey, conspirator against the king.
Sir Thomas Erpingham, Gower, Fluellen, Mackmorris [Macmorris], Jamy, officers in king Henry's army.
Nym, Bardolph, Pistol, Boy, formerly servants to Falstaff, now soldiers in the king's army.
Bates, Court, Williams, soldiers.
Charles [Charles the Sixth], the Sixth, king of France.
The Dauphin [Lewis].
Duke of Burgundy.
Constable [Constable of France], Orleans [Duke of Orleans], Rambures, Bourbon [Duke of Bourbon], Grandpree [Grandpre], French lords.
Governor of Harfleur.
Montjoy, a herald.
Ambassadors to the king of England.
Isabel, queen of France.
Katharine, daughter to the king of France.
Alice, a lady attending on the princess Katharine.
Quickly [Mrs. Quickly], Pistol's wife, an hostess.
Chorus.
Lords, Messengers, French and English Soldiers, with other Attendants.
[Messenger], [Herald], [Lady], [French Soldier]
The SCENE, at the beginning of the play, lies in England; but afterwards, wholly in France.
-- iii --
note
KING HENRY V.
[Footnote 1:
[Prologue]
CHORUS.
1 note
O, for a muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention!
A kingdom for a stage, 2 note
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,
Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword, and fire,
Crouch for employment3 note
. But 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
-- iv --
The vasty field of France? or may we cram,
4 noteWithin this wooden O, 5 notethe very casques
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,
6 noteOn your imaginary forces work:
Suppose, within the girdle of these walls
Are now confin'd two mighty monarchies,
7 note
Whose high-upreared and abutting fronts
The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder.
Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts;
-- v --
Into a thousand parts divide one man,
8 note
And make imaginary puissance:
Think, when we talk of horses, that you see them
Printing their proud hoofs i' the receiving earth:
9 note
For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings,
Carry them here and there; jumping o'er times;
Turning the 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.
-- vii --
ACT I.
SCENE I.
An antichamber in the English court, at Kenelworth.
Enter the archbishop of Canterbury, and bishop of Ely.
2 note
note in
Henry V. and though this character does not exist in our play,
we find it in the other, which, for the reasons already enumerated,
I suppose to have been prior to this.
This anonymous play of Henry V. is neither divided into acts
or scenes, is uncommonly short, and has all the appearance of
having been imperfectly taken down during the representation.
As much of it appears to have been omitted, we may suppose
that the author did not think it convenient for his reputation to
publish a more ample copy.
There is, indeed, a play, called Sir John Oldcastle, published
in 1600, with the name of William Shakespeare prefixed to it.
The prologue being very short, I shall quote it, as it serves to
prove, that a former piece, in which the character of Oldcastle
was introduced, had given great offence:
“The doubtfull title (gentlemen) prefixt
“Upon the argument we have in hand,
“May breed suspence, and wrongfully disturbe
“The peaceful quiet of your settled thoughts:
“To stop which scruple, let this breefe suffice.
“It is no pamper'd glutton we present,
“Nor aged councellour to youthfull sinne;
“But one, whose vertue shone above the rest,
“A valiant martyr, and a vertuous peere,
“In whose true faith and loyalty exprest
“Unto his soveraigne, and his countries weale:
“We strive to pay that tribute of our love
“Your favours merit: let faire truth be grac'd
“Since forg'd invention former time defac'd.”
Steevens.Cant.
My lord, I'll tell you,—that self bill is urg'd,
-- 8 --
Which, in the eleventh year o' the last king's reign
Was like, and had indeed against us past,
-- 9 --
But that the scambling and unquiet time3 note
Did push it out of further question.
-- 10 --
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 half of our possession:
For all the temporal lands, which men devout
By testament have given to the church,
Would they strip from us; being valu'd thus,—
As much as would maintain, to the king's honour,
Full fifteen earls, and fifteen hundred knights;
Six thousand and two hundred good esquires;
And, to relief of lazars, and weak age,
Of indigent faint souls, past corporal toil,
A hundred alms-houses, right well supply'd;
And to the coffers of the king, beside,
A thousand pounds by the year: Thus runs the bill.
Ely.
This would drink deep.
Cant.
'Twould drink the cup and all.
Ely.
But what prevention?
Cant.
The king is full of grace, and fair regard.
Ely.
And a true lover of the holy church.
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,
-- 11 --
4 noteConsideration like an angel came,
And whipp'd the offending Adam out of him;
Leaving his body as a paradise,
To envelop and contain celestial spirits.
Never was such a sudden scholar made:
Never came reformation in a flood5 note,
With such a heady current, scouring faults;
Nor never Hydra-headed wilfulness
So soon did lose his seat, and all at once,
As in this king.
Ely.
We are blessed in the change.
Cant.
Hear him but reason in divinity6 note
,
-- 12 --
And, all-admiring, with an inward wish
You would desire, the king were made a prelate:
Hear him debate of common-wealth affairs,
You would 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 music:
Turn him to any cause of policy,
The Gordian knot of it he will unloose,
Familiar as his garter; that, when he speaks,
7 note
The air, a charter'd libertine, is still,
And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears,
To steal his sweet and honey'd sentences;
8 note
So that the art, and practic part of life
-- 13 --
Must be the mistress to this theorique9 note
:
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,
Any retirement, any sequestration
From open haunts and popularity.
Ely.
The strawberry grows underneath the nettle1 note;
And wholsome berries thrive, and ripen best,
Neighbour'd by fruit of baser quality:
And so the prince obscur'd his contemplation
Under the veil of wildness; which, no doubt,
Grew like the summer grass, fastest by night,
-- 14 --
Unseen, yet crescive in his faculty2 note
.
Cant.
It must be so: for miracles are ceas'd;
And therefore we must needs admit the means,
How things are perfected.
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, 9Q0762
Than cherishing the 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 enough to hear
(As, I perceiv'd, his grace would fain have done)
The severals, and unhidden passages3 note,
Of his true titles to some certain dukedoms;
And, generally, to the crown and seat of France,
Deriv'd from Edward, his great grandfather.
-- 15 --
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;
Which I could, with a ready guess, declare,
Before the Frenchman speaks a word of it.
Ely.
I'll wait upon you; and I long to hear it.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Opens to the presence.
Enter king Henry, Gloster, Bedford, Warwick, Westmorland, and Exeter.
K. Henry.
Where is my gracious lord of Canterbury?
Exe.
Not here in presence.
K. Henry.
Send for him, good uncle4 note.
West.
5 noteShall we call in the ambassador, my liege?
K. Henry,
Not yet, my cousin6 note
; we would be resolv'd,
Before we hear him, of some things of weight,
That 7 notetask our thoughts, concerning us and France.
Enter the archbishop of Canterbury, and bishop of Ely.
Cant.
God, and his angels, guard your sacred throne,
And make you long become it!
-- 16 --
K. Henry.
Sure, we thank you.
My learned lord, we pray you to proceed;
And justly and religiously unfold,
Why the law Salique, that they have in France,
Or should, or should not, bar us in our claim.
And God forbid, my dear and faithful lord,
That you should fashion, wrest, or bow your reading,
8 noteOr nicely charge your understanding soul
With opening titles 9 notemiscreate, whose right
Suits not in native colours with the truth;
For God doth know, how many, now in health,
Shall drop their blood in approbation1 note
Of what your reverence shall incite us to:
Therefore 2 note
take heed how you impawn our person,
How you awake the sleeping sword of war;
We charge you in the name of God, take heed:
For never two such kingdoms did contend,
Without much fall of blood; whose guiltless drops
-- 17 --
Are every one a woe, a sore complaint,
'Gainst him, whose wrong gives edge unto the sword
That makes such waste in brief mortality3 note
.
4 note
Under this conjuration, speak, my lord;
For we will hear, note, and believe in heart,
That what you speak is in your conscience wash'd
As pure as sin with baptism.
Cant.
Then hear me, gracious sovereign,—and you peers,
That owe your lives, your faith, and services,
To this imperial throne;—There is no bar5 note
To make against your highness' claim to France,
But this, which they produce from Pharamond,—
In terram Salicam mulieres nè succedant6 note,
No woman shall succeed in Salique land:
Which Salique 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 Salique lies in Germany,
Between the floods of Sala and of Elbe:
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,
Establish'd there this law,—to wit, no female
Should be inheritrix in Salique land;
-- 18 --
Which Salique, as I said, 'twixt Elbe and Sala,
Is at this day in Germany call'd—Meisen.
Thus doth it well appear, the Salique law
Was not devised for the realm of France:
Nor did the French possess the Salique land
Until four hundred one and twenty years
After defunction of king Pharamond,
Idly suppos'd the founder of this law;
Who died within the year of our redemption
Four hundred twenty-six; and Charles the great,
Subdu'd the Saxons, and did seat the French
Beyond the river Sala, in the year
Eight hundred five. Besides, their writers say,
King Pepin, which deposed Childerick,
Did, as heir general, being descended
Of Blithild, which was daughter to king Clothair,
Make claim and title to the crown of France.
Hugh Capet also,—that usurp'd the crown
Of Charles the duke of Lorain, sole heir male
Of the true line and stock of Charles the great,—
7 note
To fine his title with some shew of truth,
(Though, in pure truth, it was corrupt and naught)
Convey'd himself as heir to the lady Lingare,
Daughter to Charlemain, who was the son
To Lewis the emperor, and Lewis the son
Of Charles the great. Also king Lewis the ninth,
-- 19 --
Who was sole heir to the usurper Capet,
Could not keep quiet in his conscience,
Wearing the crown of France, 'till satisfy'd
That fair queen Isabel, his grandmother,
Was lineal of the lady Ermengare,
Daughter to Charles the foresaid duke of Lorain;
By the which marriage, the line of Charles the great
Was re-united to the crown of France.
So that, as clear as is the summer's sun,
King Pepin's title, and Hugh Capet's claim,
King Lewis his satisfaction, all appear
To hold in right and title of the female:
So do the kings of France unto this day;
Howbeit they would hold up this Salique law,
To bar your highness claiming from the female;
And rather chuse to hide them in a net,
Than amply to imbare their crooked titles8 note
,
Usurp'd from you and your progenitors.
-- 20 --
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 is it writ—
When the son dies, let the inheritance
Descend unto the daughter. Gracious lord,
Stand for your own; unwind your bloody flag;
Look back unto 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's, Edward the black prince;
Who on the French ground play'd a tragedy,
Making defeat on the full power of France;
Whiles 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 pride of France;
And let another half stand laughing by,
All out of work, and cold for action9 note!
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 enterprizes.
Exe.
Your brother kings and monarchs of the earth
Do all expect that you should rouse yourself,
As did the former lions of your blood.
-- 21 --
West.
1 note
They know, your grace hath cause, and means and might;
So hath your 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 fields of France.
Cant.
O, let their bodies follow, my dear liege2 note,
With blood, and sword, and fire, to win your right:
In aid whereof, we of the spiritualty
Will raise your highness such a mighty sum,
As never did the clergy at one time
Bring in to any of your ancestors.
K. Henry.
We must not only arm to invade the French;
But lay down our proportions to defend
Against the Scot, who will make road upon us
With all advantages.
Cant.
They of those marches3 note
, gracious sovereign,
Shall be a wall sufficient to defend
Our inland from the pilfering borderers.
K. Henry.
We do not mean the coursing snatchers only,
-- 22 --
But fear the main intendment of the Scot,
Who hath been still a 4 notegiddy neighbour to us:
For you shall read, that my great grandfather
5 note
Never went with his forces into France,
But that the Scot on his unfurnish'd kingdom
Came pouring, like the tide into a breach,
With ample and brim fulness of his force;
Galling the gleaned land with hot assays;
Girding with grievous siege castles, and towns;
That England, being empty of defence,
Hath shook, and trembled 6 note
at the ill neigbourhood.
Cant.
She hath been then more fear'd than harm'd, my liege: 9Q0764
For hear her but exampled by herself,—
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,
-- 23 --
The king of Scots; whom she did send to France,
To fill king Edward's fame with prisoner kings;
7 note
And make your chronicle as rich with praise,
As is the ouze and bottom of the sea
With sunken wreck 8 note
and sumless treasuries.
Exe.
9 noteBut there's a saying, very old and true,—
1 note
If that you will France win,
Then with Scotland first begin:
For once the eagle England being in prey,
To her unguarded nest the weazel Scot
Comes sneaking, and so sucks her princely eggs;
Playing the mouse, in absence of the cat,
-- 24 --
2 noteTo taint and havock more than she can eat.
Ely.
It follows then, the cat must stay at home:
3 note
Yet that is but a curs'd necessity;
Since we have locks to safeguard necessaries,
4 noteAnd pretty traps to catch the petty thieves.
While that the armed hand doth fight abroad,
The advised head defends itself at home:
-- 25 --
5 noteFor government, though high, and low, and lower,
Put into parts, doth keep in one consent6 note;
Congruing in a full and natural close,
Like musick.
Cant.
True: therefore doth heaven divide
The state of man in divers functions,
7 note
Setting endeavour in continual motion;
To which is fixed, as an aim or butt,
Obedience: for so work the honey bees;
Creatures, that, by a rule in nature, teach
The art of order to a peopled kingdom.
They have a king, and officers of sorts: 9Q0765
Where some, like magistrates, correct at home;
8 note
Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad;
Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings,
Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds;
Which pillage they with merry march bring home
-- 26 --
To the tent-royal of their emperor:
Who, busy'd in his majesty, surveys
The singing masons building roofs of gold;
9 note
The civil citizens kneading up the honey;
The poor mechanick porters crowding in
Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate;
The sad-ey'd justice, with his surly hum,
Delivering o'er to executors pale
The lazy yawning drone. I this infer,—
That many things, having full reference
To one consent, may work contrariously;
As many arrows, loosed several ways,
Fly to one mark;
As many several ways meet in one town;
As many fresh streams run in one self sea;
As many lines close in the dial's center;
1 note
So may a thousand actions, once afoot,
End in one purpose, and be all well borne
-- 27 --
2 noteWithout defeat. Therefore to France, my liege.
Divide your happy England into four;
Whereof take you one quarter into France,
And you withal shall make all Gallia shake.
If we, with thrice that power left at home,
Cannot defend our own door 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 God'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: Or there we'll sit,
Ruling, in large and ample empery3 note
,
O'er France, and all her almost kingly dukedoms;
Or lay these bones in an unworthy urn,
Tombless, with no remembrance over them:
Either our history shall, with full mouth,
Speak freely of our acts; or else our grave,
Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless mouth,
Not worship'd 4 note
with a waxen epitaph.
-- 28 --
Enter ambassadors of France.
Now we are 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
Freely 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;
Unto whose grace our passion is as subject,
As are our wretches fetter'd in our prisons:
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, king 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 galliard5 note
won;
You cannot revel into dukedoms there:
He therefore sends you, meeter for your spirit,
This 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.
6 noteTennis-balls, my liege.
-- 29 --
K. Henry.
7 note
We are 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,
We will, in France, by God's grace, play a set,
Shall strike his father's crown into the hazard:
Tell him, he hath made a match with such a wrangler,
That all the courts of France will be disturb'd
With 8 note
chaces. And we understand him well,
How he comes o'er us with our wilder days,
Not measuring what use we made of them.
We never valu'd this poor seat of England;
9 note
And therefore, living hence, did give ourself
To barbarous licence; As 'tis ever common,
That men are merriest when they are from home.
But tell the Dauphin,—I will keep my state;
Be like a king, and shew my sail of greatness,
When I do rouse me in my throne of France:
-- 30 --
1 note
For that I have laid by my majesty,
And plodded like a man for working-days;
But 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.
And tell the pleasant prince,—this mock of his
Hath turn'd 2 note
his balls to gun-stones; and his soul
Shall stand sore charged for the wasteful vengeance
That shall fly with them: for many a thousand widows
Shall this his mock mock out of their dear husbands;
Mock mothers from their sons, mock castles down;
And some are yet ungotten, and unborn,
That shall have cause to curse the Dauphin's scorn.
But this lies all within the will of God,
To whom I do appeal; And in whose name,
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 tell the Dauphin,
His jest will savour but of shallow wit,
When thousands weep, more than did laugh at it.—
Convey them with safe conduct.—Fare you 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 furtherance to our expedition:
For we have now no thought in us, but France;
Save those to God, that run before our business.
Therefore, let our proportions for these wars
-- 31 --
Be soon collected; and all things thought upon,
That may, with reasonable swiftness, add
More feathers to our wings: for, God before,
We'll chide this Dauphin at his father's door.
Therefore, let every man now task his thought,
That this fair action may on foot be brought.
[Exeunt.
ACT II.
Enter Chorus.
Chor.
Now all the youth of England are on fire3 note
,
And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies;
-- 32 --
Now thrive the armourers, and honour's thought
Reigns solely in the breast of every man:
They sell the pasture now, to buy the horse;
Following the mirror of all Christian kings,
With winged heels, as English Mercuries.
4 note
For now sits Expectation in the air;
And hides a sword, from hilts unto the point,
With crowns imperial, crowns, and coronets,
Promis'd to Harry, and his followers.
The French, advis'd by good intelligence
Of this most dreadful preparation,
Shake in their fear; and with pale policy
Seek to divert the English purposes.
O England!—model to thy inward greatness,
Like little body with a mighty heart,—
What might'st thou do, that honour would thee do,
-- 33 --
Were all thy children kind and natural!
But see thy fault! France hath in thee found out
A nest of hollow bosoms, which she fills
With treacherous crowns: and three corrupted men,—
One, Richard earl of Cambridge; and the second,
Henry lord Scroop of Masham; and the third,
Sir Thomas Grey knight of Northumberland,—
Have for the gilt of France4 note
, (O guilt, indeed!)
Confirm'd conspiracy with fearful France;
5 note
And by their hands this 6 note
grace of kings must die,
-- 34 --
(If hell and treason hold their promises)
Ere he take ship for France, and in Southampton.
Linger your patience on; and well digest7 note
The abuse of distance, 8 notewhile we force a play.
The sum is paid; the traitors are agreed;
The king is set from London; and the scene
Is now transported, gentles, to Southampton:
There is the play-house now, there must you sit:
And thence to France shall we convey you safe,
And bring you back, charming the narrow seas9 note
To give you gentle pass; for, if we may,
1 noteWe'll not offend one stomach with our play.
-- 35 --
2 note
But, 'till the king come forth, and not 'till then,
Unto Southampton do we shift our scene.
[Exit.
SCENE I.
Before Quickly's house in Eastcheap.
Enter corporal Nym, and lieutenant Bardolph.
3 note
Bard.
Well met, corporal.
Nym.
Good morrow, 4 notelieutenant Bardolph.
Bard.
What, are ancient Pistol and you friends yet?
Nym.
For my part, I care not: I say little; but
-- 36 --
when time shall serve, 5 note
there shall be smiles;—but
that shall be as it may. I dare not fight; but I will
wink, and hold out mine 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
6 notethe humour of it.
Bard.
I will bestow a breakfast, to make you
friends; 7 noteand we'll be all three sworn brothers to
France: 9Q0766 let it be so, good corporal Nym.
Nym.
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
Nell Quickly: and, certainly, she did you wrong; for
you were troth-plight to her.
Nym.
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.
-- 37 --
It must be as it may: though 8 notepatience be a tir'd
mare, yet she will plod. 9Q0767 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 tyke9 note, call'st thou me—host?
Now, by this hand I swear, I scorn the term;
Nor shall my Nell keep 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.—1 note
O
-- 38 --
well-a-day, lady, if he be not drawn now! 9Q0768 We shall
see wilful adultery and murder committed.
Bard.
2 noteGood lieutenant, good corporal, offer nothing
here.
Nym.
Pish!
Pist.
Pish for thee, 3 note
Iceland dog! thou prick-ear'd
cur of Iceland!
-- 39 --
Quick.
Good corporal Nym, shew the valour of a
man, and put up thy sword.
Nym.
4 note
Will you shog 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 mouth5 note
!
I do retort the solus in thy bowels:
6 noteFor I can talk; and Pistol's cock is up,
And flashing fire will follow.
Nym.
7 noteI 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 would
walk off, I would prick your guts a little, in good
terms, as I may; and that's the humour of it.
-- 40 --
Pist.
O braggard vile, and damned furious wight!
The grave doth gape, and 8 notedoting death is near;
Therefore exhale. 9Q0769
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.
Nym.
I will cut thy throat, one time or other, in
fair terms; that is the humour of it.
Pist.
Coupe le gorge, that is the word?—I defy thee again.
O hound of Crete, think'st thou my spouse to get?
No; to the spital go,
And from the powdering tub of infamy
Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid's kind9 note
,
Doll Tear-sheet she by name, and her espouse:
I have, and I will hold, the quondam Quickly
For the only she; and—Pauca, there's enough: go to1
note
.
Enter the Boy.
Boy.
Mine host Pistol, you must come to my master,
—and you hostess;—he is very sick, and would
to bed.—Good Bardolph, put thy nose between his
-- 41 --
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 Quickly.
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!
Nym.
You'll pay me the eight shillings I won of
you at betting?
Pist.
2 note
Base is the slave that pays.
Nym.
That now I will have; that's the humour of it.
Pist.
As manhood shall compound; Push home.
[Draw.
Bard.
By this sword, he that makes the first thrust,
I'll kill him; by this sword, I will.
Pist.
Sword is an oath, and oaths must have their course.
Bard.
Corporal Nym, an thou wilt be friends, be
friends: an thou wilt not, why then be enemies with
me too. Pry'thee, put up.
Nym.
I shall have my eight shillings, I won of you
at betting?
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 Nym, and Nym shall live by me;—
Is not this just?—for I shall sutler be
-- 42 --
Unto the camp, and profits will accrue.
Give me thy hand.
Nym.
I shall have my noble?
Pist.
In cash most justly paid.
Nym.
Well then, that's the humour of it.
Re-enter Quickly.
Quick.
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.
Nym.
The king hath run bad humours on the
knight, that's the even of it.
Pist.
Nym, thou hast spoke the right;
His heart is fracted, and corroborate.
Nym.
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.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Southampton.
Enter Exeter, Bedford, and Westmoreland.
Bed.
'Fore God, his grace is bold, to trust these traitors.
Exe.
They shall be apprehended by and by.
West.
How smooth and even they do bear themselves!
As if allegiance in their bosoms sat,
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 bedfellow3 note
,
-- 43 --
Whom he hath cloy'd and grac'd4 note with princely favours,—
That he should, for a foreign purse, so sell
His sovereign's life 5 note
to death and treachery!
[Trumpets sound.
Enter the King, Scroop, Cambridge, Grey, and attendants.
K. Henry.
Now sits the wind fair, 9Q0770 and we will aboard.
My lord of Cambridge,—and my kind lord of Masham,
And you, my gentle knight,—give me your thoughts:
Think you not, that the powers we bear with us,
Will cut their passage through the force of France;
Doing the execution, and the act,
6 note
For which we have in head assembled them?
-- 44 --
Scroop.
No doubt, my liege, if each man do his best.
K. Henry.
I doubt not that: since we are well persuaded,
We carry not a heart with us from hence,
That grows not in a fair consent with ours;
Nor leave not one behind, that doth not wish
Success and conquest to attend on us.
Cam.
Never was monarch better fear'd, and lov'd,
Than is your majesty; there's not, I think, a subject,
That sits in heart-grief and uneasiness
Under the sweet shade of your government.
Grey.
Even those, that were your father's enemies,
Have steep'd their galls in honey; and do serve you
With 7 notehearts create of duty and of zeal.
K. Henry.
We therefore have great cause of thankfulness;
And shall forget the office of our hand,
Sooner than quittance of desert and merit,
According to the weight and worthiness.
Scroop.
So service shall with steeled sinews toil;
And labour shall refresh itself with hope,
To do your grace incessant services.
K. Henry.
We judge no less.—Uncle of Exeter,
Enlarge the man committed yesterday,
That rail'd against our person: we consider,
It was excess of wine that set him on;
And, on his 8 notemore advice, we pardon him.
Scroop.
That's mercy, but too much security:
Let him be punish'd, sovereign; lest example
Breed, by his sufferance, more of such a kind.
K. Henry.
O, let us yet be merciful.
-- 45 --
Cam.
So may your highness, and yet punish too.
Grey.
Sir, 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, 9 note
proceeding on distemper,
Shall not be wink'd at, 1 notehow shall we stretch our eye,
When capital crimes, chew'd, swallow'd, and digested,
Appear before us?—We'll yet enlarge that man,
Though Cambridge, Scroop, and Grey,—in their dear care
And tender preservation of our person,—
Would have him punish'd. And now to our French causes;—
Who are the late commissioners?
Cam.
I one, my lord;
Your highness bade me ask for it to-day.
Scroop.
So did you me, my liege.
Grey.
And me, my royal sovereign.
-- 46 --
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?
Cam.
I do confess my fault;
And do submit me to your highness' mercy.
Grey. Scroop.
To which we all appeal.
K. Henry.
The mercy, that was 5 notequick in us but late,
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 into your bosoms,
As dogs upon their masters, worrying them.—
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, lightly conspir'd,
And sworn unto the practices of France,
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 knew'st the very bottom of my soul,
-- 47 --
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, 3 note
though the truth of it stands off as gross
As black from white, my eye will scarcely see it.
4 noteTreason, and murder, ever kept together,
As two yoke-devils sworn to either's purpose,
5 note
Working so grossly in a natural cause,
That admiration did not whoop at them:
But thou, 'gainst all proportion, didst bring in
Wonder, to wait on treason, and on murder:
And whatsoever cunning fiend it was,
That wrought upon thee so preposterously,
He hath got the voice in hell for excellence:
And other devils, that suggest by treasons,
Do botch and bungle up damnation
With patches, colours, and with forms being fetch'd
From glistering semblances of piety; 9Q0771
But 6 note
he, that temper'd thee 9Q0772, bade thee stand up,
Gave thee no instance why thou shouldst do treason,
Unless to dub thee with the name of traitor.
If that same dæmon, that hath gull'd thee thus,
-- 48 --
Should with his lion gait walk the whole world,
He might return to vasty Tartar back7 note
,
And tell the legions—I can never win
A soul so easy as that Englishman's.
8 note
Oh, how hast thou with jealousy infected
The sweetness of affiance! Shew men dutiful?
Why, so didst thou: Seem they grave and learned?
Why, so didst thou: Come they of noble family?
Why, so didst thou: Seem they religious?
Why, so didst thou: Or are they spare in diet;
Free from gross passion, or of mirth, or anger;
Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood;
9 note
Garnish'd and deck'd in modest complement;
1 note
Not working with the eye, without the ear,
-- 49 --
And, but in purged judgment, trusting neither?
Such, 2 note
and so finely boulted, didst thou seem:
And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot,
3 note
To mark the full-fraught man, the best endu'd,
With some suspicion. I will weep for thee;
For this revolt of thine, methinks, is like
Another fall of man.—Their faults are open,
Arrest them to the answer of the law;—
And God 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 Henry
lord Scroop of Masham.
I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Thomas
Grey, knight of Northumberland.
Scroop.
Our purposes God 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.
-- 50 --
Cam.
4 noteFor me,—the gold of France did not seduce;
Although I did admit it as a motive,
The sooner to effect what I intended:
But God be thanked for prevention;
Which I in sufferance heartily will rejoice,
Beseeching God, 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 enterprize:
5 note
My fault, but not my body, pardon, sovereign.
K. Henry.
God quit you in his mercy! Hear your sentence.
You have conspir'd against our royal person,
Join'd with an enemy proclaim'd, and from his coffers
Receiv'd the golden earnest of our death;
Wherein you would have sold your king to slaughter,
His princes and his peers to servitude,
-- 51 --
His subjects to oppression and contempt,
And his whole kingdom unto desolation.
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. 6 noteGet you 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.
We doubt not of a fair and lucky war;
Since God so graciously hath brought to light
This dangerous treason, lurking in our way,
To hinder our beginnings, we doubt not now,
But every rub is smoothed in our way.
Then, forth, dear countrymen; let us deliver
Our puissance into the hand of God,
Putting it straight in expedition.
Chearly to sea; the signs of war advance:
7 note
No king of England, if not king of France.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Quickly's house in Eastcheap.
Enter Pistol, Nym, Bardolph, Boy, and Quickly.
Quickly.
Pr'ythee, honey-sweet husband, let me bring thee to Staines.
-- 52 --
Pist.
No; for my manly heart doth yern.—
Bardolph, be blith;—Nym, rouse thy vaunting veins;
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!
Quick.
Nay, sure, he's not in hell; he's in Arthur's
bosom, if ever man went to Arthur's bosom. 'A
made a 8 notefiner end, and went away, 9 note
an it had been
-- 53 --
any chrisom'd child; 'a parted even just between
twelve and one, e'en at 1 noteturning o'the tide: for
after I saw him 2 note
fumble with the sheets, and play
with flowers, and smile upon his fingers' ends, I knew
there was but one way3 note
; 4 note
for his nose was as sharp as
-- 54 --
a pen, and 'a babbled of green fields. How now, Sir
John? quoth I: what, man! be of good cheer. So
-- 55 --
'a cried out—God, God, God! three or four times:
now I, to comfort him, bid him 'a should not think
of God5 note; I hop'd, there was no need to trouble himself
with any such thoughts yet: So 'a bade me lay
more cloaths on his feet: I put my hand into the
bed, and felt them, and they were as cold as any stone;
then I felt to his knees, and so upward, and upward,
and all was as 6 note
cold as any stone.
-- 56 --
Nym.
They say, he cried out of sack.
Quick.
Ay, that 'a did.
Bard.
And of women.
Quick.
Nay, that 'a did not.
Boy.
Yes, that 'a did; and said, they were devils
incarnate.
Quick.
'A could never abide carnation; 'twas a
colour he never lik'd.
Boy.
'A said once, the devil would have him about
women.
Quick.
'A did in some sort, indeed, handle women:
but then he was rheumatic; and talk'd of the
whore of Babylon.
Boy.
Do you not remember, 'a saw a flea stick
upon Bardolph's nose; and 'a said, it was a black soul
burning in hell-fire?
Bard.
Well, the fuel is gone, that maintain'd that
fire: that's all the riches I got in his service.
Nym.
Shall we shog? the king will be gone from
Southampton.
Pist.
Come, let's away.—My love, give me thy lips.
Look to my chattels, and my moveables:
7 note
Let senses rule; the word is, 8 note
Pitch and pay;
-- 57 --
Trust none;
For oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer-cakes,
And hold-fast is the only dog, my duck;
9 note
Therefore, caveto be thy counsellor.
Go, 1 note
clear thy crystals.—Yoke-fellows in arms,
Let us to France! like horse-leeches, my boys;
To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck!
-- 58 --
Boy.
And that is but unwholesome food, they say.
Pist.
Touch her soft mouth, and march.
Bard.
Farewel, hostess.
Nym.
I cannot kiss, that is the humour of it; but
adieu.
Pist.
Let housewif'ry appear; 2 note
keep close, I thee
command.
Quick.
Farewel; adieu.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
The French king's palace.
Enter the French king, the Dauphin, the duke of Burgundy, and the Constable.
Fr. King.
Thus come the English with full power upon us;
3 note
And more than carefully it us concerns,
-- 59 --
To answer royally in our defences.
Therefore the dukes of Berry, and of Bretagne,
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 gulph.
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.
Dau.
My most redoubted father,
It is most meet we arm us 'gainst the foe:
For peace itself should not so dull a kingdom,
(Though war, nor no known quarrel, were in question)
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 busied4 note with a Whitsun morris-dance:
For, my good liege, she is so idly king'd5 note
,
Her scepter so fantastically borne
By a vain, giddy, shallow, humourous youth,
That fear attends her not.
Con.
O peace, prince Dauphin!
You are too much mistaken in this king: note
-- 60 --
Question your grace the late ambassadors,—
With what great state he heard their embassy,
How well supply'd with noble counsellors,
7 noteHow modest in exception, and, withal,
How terrible in constant resolution,—
And you shall find, his vanities fore-spent
8 noteWere but the out-side of the Roman Brutus,
Covering discretion with a coat of folly; 9Q0775
As gardeners do with ordure hide those roots
That shall first spring, and be most delicate.
Dau.
Well, 'tis not so, my lord high constable,
But though we think it so, it is no matter:
In cases of defence, 'tis best to weigh
The enemy more mighty than he seems,
So the proportions of defence are fill'd;
Which, of a weak and niggardly projection, 9Q0776
Doth, like a miser, spoil his coat, with scanting
A little cloth.
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,
-- 61 --
9 note
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 black prince of Wales;
1 note
note:
&lblank; his most mighty father on a hill.
Steevens.Whiles that his mountain fire,—on mountain standing,
Up in the air, crown'd with the golden sun2 note
,—
Saw his heroical seed, and smil'd to see him
Mangle the work of nature, and deface
The patterns that by God and by French fathers
Had twenty years been made. This is a stem
-- 62 --
Of that victorious stock; and let us fear
The native mightiness and 3 note
fate of him.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess.
Ambassadors from Henry king of England
Do crave admittance to your majesty.
Fr. King.
We'll give them present audience. Go, and bring them.
You see, this chase is hotly follow'd, friends.
Dau.
Turn head, and stop pursuit: for coward dogs
Most 4 notespend 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,
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 name of God Almighty,
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 wide-stretched 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,
-- 63 --
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 5 notememorable line,
In every branch truly demonstrative;
[Gives the French king a paper.
Willing you, overlook this 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
Even 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 will compel.
He bids you, in the bowels of the Lord,
Deliver up the crown; and to take mercy
On the poor souls, for whom this hungry war
Opens his vasty jaws: and on your head
Turns he the widows' tears, the orphans' cries,
6 note
The dead mens' blood, the pining maidens' groans, 9Q0777
-- 64 --
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 expressly I bring greeting too.
Fr. King.
For us, we will consider of this further:
To-morrow shall you bear our full intent
Back to our brother of England.
Dau.
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
4 note
Shall chide your trespass, and return your mock
In second accent of his ordinance.
Dau.
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:
-- 65 --
And, be assur'd, you'll find a difference,
(As we, his subjects, have in wonder found)
Between the promise of his greener days,
And these he masters now5 note; now he weighs time,
Even to the utmost grain; which you shall read 9Q0779
In your own losses, if he stay in France.
Fr. King.
To-morrow you shall know our mind at full.
[Flourish.
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.
ACT III.
Enter Chorus.
Chor.
Thus with imagin'd wing our swift scene flies,
In motion of no less celerity
Than that of thought. Suppose, that you have seen
6 note
The well-appointed king at Hampton pier
-- 66 --
Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet
With silken streamers the young Phœbus fanning.
Play with your fancies; and in them behold,
Upon the hempen tackle, ship-boys climbing:
Hear the shrill whistle, which doth order give
To sounds confus'd: behold the threaden sails,
Borne with the invisible and creeping wind,
Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd sea,
Breasting the lofty surge: O, do but think,
You stand upon the 7 note
rivage, and behold
A city on the inconstant billows dancing;
For so appears this fleet majestical,
Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, follow!
Grapple your minds 8 noteto sternage of this navy; 9Q0780
And leave your England, as dead midnight, still,
Guarded with grandfires, babies, and old women,
Or past, or not arriv'd to, pith and puissance:
For who is he, whose chin is but enrich'd
With one appearing hair, that will not follow
These cull'd and choice-drawn cavaliers to France?
Work, work, your thoughts, and therein see a siege;
-- 67 --
Behold the ordinance on their carriages,
With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur.
Suppose, the ambassador from the French comes back;
Tells Harry—that the king doth offer him
Katharine his daughter; and with her, to dowry,
Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms.
The offer likes not: and the nimble gunner
With 9 note
linstock now the devilish cannon touches,
[Alarum; and chambers go off.
And down goes all before him. Still be kind,
And eke out our performance with your mind. 9Q0781
[Exit.
SCENE I.
Before Harfleur.
[Alarum.]
Enter king Henry, Exeter, Bedford, Gloster, and soldiers, with scaling ladders.
K. Henry.
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
1 note
Or close the wall up with the English dead!
In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man,
-- 68 --
As modest stillness, and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears2 note
,
Then imitate the action of the tyger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage:
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let it pry through the 3 noteportage of the head,
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it,
As fearfully, as doth a galled rock
O'er-hang and jutty 4 notehis confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide;
Hold hard the breath, and 5 notebend up every spirit
To his full height!—On, on, you noblest English,
Whose blood is set from fathers of war-proof6 note
!
-- 69 --
Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders,
Have, in these parts, from morn 'till even fought,
And sheath'd their swords for lack of 7 noteargument.
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest,
That those, whom you call'd fathers, did beget you!
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war!—And you, good yeomen,
Whose limbs were made in England, shew us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding: which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot;
Follow your spirit: and, upon this charge,
Cry—God for Harry! England! and saint George!
[Exeunt King and train.
[Alarm, and chambers go off.
SCENE II.
Enter Nym, Bardolph, Pistol, and Boy.
Bard.
On, on, on, on, on! to the breach, to the
breach!
Nym.
'Pray thee, 8 notecorporal, stay; the knocks are
too hot; and, for mine own part, I have not 9 notea case
-- 70 --
of lives: 9Q0782 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; God'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:
1 noteIf wishes would prevail with me,
My purpose should not fail with me,
But thither would I hye.
Boy.
2 noteAs duly, but not as truly, as bird doth sing
on bough.
Enter Fluellen. 9Q0783
Flu.
'Splood!—Up to the preaches3 note, you rascals!
will you not up to the preaches?
Pist.
Be merciful, great duke, 4 noteto men of mould!
Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage!
Good bawcock, bate thy rage! use lenity, sweet chuck!
Nym.
These be good humours!—your honour wins
bad humours.
[Exeunt.
-- 71 --
Boy.
As young as I am, I have observ'd these three
swashers. I am boy to them all three: but all they
three, though they would serve me, could not be man
to me; for, indeed, three such anticks do not amount
to a man. For Bardolph,—he is white-liver'd, and
red-fac'd; by the means whereof, 'a faces it out, but
fights not. For Pistol,—he hath a killing tongue, and
a quiet sword; by the means whereof 'a breaks words,
and keeps whole weapons. For Nym,—he hath heard,
that men of few words are the 5 notebest men; and therefore
he scorns to say his prayers, left 'a should be
thought a coward: but his few bad words are match'd
with as few good deeds; for 'a never broke any man's
head but his own; and that was against a post, when
he was drunk. They will steal any thing, and call it—
purchase. Bardolph stole a lute-case; bore it twelve
leagues, and sold it for three half-pence. Nym, and
Bardolph, are sworn brothers in filching; and in Calais
they stole a fire-shovel: I knew, by that piece of service,
6 note
the men would carry coals. They would have
me as familiar with men's pockets, as their gloves or
their handkerchiefs: which makes much against my
manhood, if I should take from another's pocket, to
put into mine; for it is plain pocketing up of
wrongs. I must leave them, and seek some better
service: their villainy goes against my weak stomach,
and therefore I must cast it up.
[Exit Boy.
-- 72 --
Re-enter Fluellen, Gower following.
Gower.
Captain Fluellen, you must come presently
to the mines; the duke of Gloster 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)
7 noteis digt himself four yards under the countermines:
by Cheshu, I think, 'a 8 notewill plow up all, if there is
not better directions.
Gower.
The duke of Gloster, to whom the order
of the siege is given, is altogether directed by an Irishman;
a very valiant gentleman, i'faith.
Flu.
It is captain Macmorris, is it not?
Gower.
I think, it be.
Flu.
By Cheshu, he is an ass, as in the 'orld: I
will verify as much in his peard: he has no more
directions in the true disciplines of the wars, look you,
of the Roman disciplines, than is a puppy-dog.
Enter Macmorris, and captain Jamy.
Gower.
Here 'a comes; and the Scots captain, captain
Jamy, with him.
Flu.
Captain Jamy is a marvellous falorous 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
'orld, in the disciplines of the pristine wars of the
Romans.
-- 73 --
Jamy.
I say, gud-day, captain Fluellen.
Flu.
God-den to your worship, goot captain Jamy.
Gower.
How now, captain Macmorris? have you
quit the mines? have the pioneers given o'er?
Mac.
By Chrish la, 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 would have blowed up the
town, so Chrish save me, la, in an hour. O tish ill
done, tish ill done; by my hand, tish ill done!
Flu.
Captain Macmorris, I peseech you now, will
you voutsafe 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
you, of my mind, as touching the direction of the
military discipline; that is the point.
Jamy.
It fall be very gud, gud feith, gud captains
bath: and 9 noteI sall quit you with gud leve, as I may
pick occasion; that sall I, marry.
Mac.
It is no time to discourse, so Chrish save me:
the day is hot, and the weather, and the wars, and the
king, and the dukes; it is no 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, la.
Jamy.
By the mess, ere theise eyes of mine take
themselves to slumber, aile do gud service, or aile ligge
i'the grund for it; ay, or go to death; and aile pay
it as valorously as I may, that sal I surely do, that is
-- 74 --
the breff and the long: Mary, I wad full fain heard
some question 'tween you tway.
Flu.
Captain Macmorris, I think, look you, under
your correction, there is not many of your nation—
Mac.
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 Macmorris, peradventure, I
shall think you do not use me with that affability as in
discretion you ought to use me, look you; being as
goot a man as yourself, both in the disciplines of wars,
and in the derivation of my birth, and in other particularities.
Mac.
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 Macmorris, when there is more better
opportunity to be requir'd, look you, I will be so bold
as to tell you, I know the disciplines of war; and
there's an end1 note.
SCENE III.
Before the gates of Harfleur.
Enter King Henry and his train.
K. Henry.
How yet resolves the governor of the town?
This is the latest parle we will admit:
Therefore, to our best mercy give yourselves;
-- 75 --
Or, like to men proud of destruction,
Defy us to our worst: for, as I am a soldier,
(A name, that, in my thoughts, becomes me best)
If I begin the battery once again,
I will not leave the half-atchieved Harfleur,
'Till in her ashes she lie buried.
The gates of mercy shall be all shut up2 note
; 9Q0784
And the flesh'd soldier,—rough and hard of heart,—
In liberty of bloody hand, shall range
With conscience wide as hell; mowing like grass
Your fresh fair virgins, and your flowering infants.
What is it then to me, if impious war,—
Array'd in flames, like to the prince of fiends,—
Do, with his smirch'd complexion, all 3 note
fell feats
Enlink'd to waste and desolation?
What is't to me, when you yourselves are cause,
If your pure maidens fall into the hand
Of hot and forcing violation?
What rein can hold licentious wickedness,
When down the hill he holds his fierce career?
We may as bootless spend our vain command
Upon the enraged soldiers in their spoil,
As send precepts to the Leviathan
To come ashore. Therefore, you men of Harfleur,
Take pity of your town, and of your people,
Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command;
4 note
Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace
O'er-blows the filthy and contagious clouds
-- 76 --
Of heady murder, spoil, and villainy.
If not, why, in a moment, look to see
The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand
5 note
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;
Your naked infants spitted upon pikes;
Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confus'd
Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry
At Herod's bloody-hunting slaughtermen.
What say you? will you yield, and this avoid?
Or, guilty in defence, be thus destroy'd?
Enter Governor, upon the walls.
Gov.
Our expectation hath this day an end:
The Dauphin, whom of succour we entreated,
Returns us—that his powers are not yet ready
To raise so great a siege. Therefore, dread 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.
To-night in Harfleur will we be your guest;
To-morrow for the march are we addrest6 note
.
[Flourish, and enter the town.
-- 77 --
7 note
SCENE IV.
The French camp.
Enter Katharine, and an old gentlewoman.
8 note
Kath.
Alice, tu as esté en Angleterre, & tu parles
bien le language.
-- 78 --
Alice.
Un peu, madame.
Kath.
Je te prie, m'enseignez; il faut que j'apprenne
à parler. Comment appellez vous la main, en Anglois?
Alice.
La main? elle est appellée, de hand.
Kath.
De hand. Et les doigts?
Alice.
Les doigts? may foy, je oublie les doigts; mais je
me souviendray. Les doigts? je pense, qu'ils sont appellé de
fingres; ouy, de fingers; oui de fingers.
Kath.
La main, de hand; les doigts, de fingres. Je
pense, que je suis le bon escolier. J'ay gagnée deux mots
d'Anglois vistement. Comment appellez vous les ongles?
Alice.
Les ongles? les appellons, de nails.
-- 79 --
Kath.
De nails. Escoutez: dites moy, si je parle
bien: de hand, de fingres, de nails.
Alice.
C'est bien dit, madame; il est fort bon Anglois.
Kath.
Dites moy en Anglois, le bras.
Alice.
De arm, madame.
Kath.
Et le coude.
Alice.
De elbow.
Kath.
De elbow. Je m'en faitz la repetition de tous
les mots, que vous m'avez appris dès a present.
Alice.
Il est trop difficile, madame, comme je pense.
Kath.
Excusez moy, Alice; escoutez: De hand, de
fingre, de nails, de arm, de bilbow.
Alice.
De elbow, madame.
Kath.
O Seigneur Dieu! je m'en oublie; De elbow.
Comment appellez vous le col?
Alice.
De neck, madame.
Kath.
De neck: Et le menton?
Alice.
De chin.
Kath.
De sin. Le col, de neck: le menton, de sin.
Alice.
Ouy. Sauf vostre honneur; en verité, vous prononcez
les mots aussi droict que les natifs d' Angleterre.
Kath.
Je ne doute point d'apprendre par la grace de
Dieu; & en peu de temps.
Alice.
N'avez vous pas deja oublié ce que je vous ay
enseignée?
Kath.
Non, je reciteray à vous promptement. De hand,
de fingre, de mails8 note.
Alice.
De nails, madame.
Kath.
De nails, de arme, de ilbow.
Alice.
Sauf, vostre honneur, de elbow.
Kath.
Ainsi dis je; de elbow, de neck, et de sin:
Comment appellez vous les pieds, & la robe?
Alice.
De foot, madame; & de con. 9Q0785
Kath.
De foot, & de con? O Seigneur Dieu! ces
-- 80 --
sont mots de son mauvais, corruptible, grosse, et impudique, &
non pour les dames d'honneur d'user: Je ne voudrois prononcer
ces mots devant les Seigneurs de France, pour tout le
monde. Il faut de foot, & de con, neant-moins. Je reciterai
une autre fois ma leçon ensemble: De hand, de9 note fingre,
de nails, de arm, de elbow, de neck, de sin,
de foot, de con.
Alice.
Excellent, madame!
Kath.
C'est assez pour une fois; allons nous a disner.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V.
Presence-chamber in the French court.
Enter the king of France, the Dauphin, duke of Bourbon, the Constable of France, and others.
Fr. King.
'Tis certain, he hath pass'd the river Some.
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 barbarous people.
Dau.
O Dieu vivant! shall a few sprays of us,—
The emptying of 1 noteour father's luxury,—
Our syens, put in wild 2 noteand savage stock,
Sprout up so suddenly into the clouds,
And over-grow their grafters? 9Q0786
Bour.
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 slobbery and a dirty farm
-- 81 --
4 noteIn that nook-shotten isle of Albion.
Con.
Dieu de batailles! where have they this mettle?
Is not their climate foggy, raw, and dull?
On whom, as in despight, the sun looks pale,
Killing their fruit with frowns? 5 note
Can sodden water,
A drench for sur-reyn'd jades, their barley broth,
Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat?
And shall our quick blood, spirited with wine,
Seem frosty? Oh, for honour of our land,
Let us not hang like roping icicles
Upon the houses' thatch 9Q0787, whiles a more frosty people
Sweat drops of gallant youth 9Q0788 in our rich fields;
Poor—we may call them, 9Q0789 in their native lords.
Dau.
By faith and honour,
Our madams mock at us; and plainly say,
Our mettle is bred out; and they will give
Their bodies to the lust of English youth,
To new store France with bastard warriors.
Bour.
They bid us—to the English dancing-schools,
And teach 6 note
lavoltas high, and swift corantos;
-- 82 --
Saying, our grace is only in our heels,
And that we are most lofty run-aways.
Fr. King.
Where is Montjoy, the herald? speed him hence;
Let him greet England with our sharp defiance.—
Up, princes; and, with spirit of honour edg'd,
More sharper than your swords, hie to the field:
7 note
Charles De-la-bret, high constable of France;
You dukes of Orleans, Bourbon, and of Berry,
Alençon, Brabant, Bar, and Burgundy;
Jaques Chatillion, Rambures, Vaudemont,
Beaumont, Grandpré, Roussi, and Fauconberg,
Foix, Lestrale, Bouciqualt, and Charolois;
High dukes, great princes, barons, lords, and knights,
For your great seats, now quit you of great shames.
Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our land
8 note
With pennons painted in the blood of Harsleur:
-- 83 --
Rush on his host, as doth the 9 notemelted snow
Upon the vallies; whose low vassal seat
The Alps doth spit and void his rheum upon1 note
:
Go down upon him,—you have power enough,—
And in a captive chariot, into Roan
Bring him our prisoner.
Con.
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.
-- 84 --
Fr. King.
Therefore, lord constable, haste on Mont-joy;
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.
Dau.
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 England's fall.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI.
The English camp.
Enter Gower, and Fluellen.
Gow.
How now, captain Fluellen? come you from the bridge?
Flu.
I assure you, there is very excellent service
committed at the pridge.
Gow.
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 livings, and my uttermost powers: he is not,
(Got be praised and plessed!) any hurt in the 'orld;
but keeps the pridge most valiantly, with excellent
discipline. There is an ancient lieutenant there at the
pridge,—I think, in my very conscience, he is as valiant
a man as Mark Antony; and he is a man of no
estimation in the 'orld; but I did see him do gallant
services.
Gow.
What do you call him?
Flu.
He is call'd—ancient Pistol.
Gow.
I know him not.
-- 85 --
Enter Pistol.
Flu.
Do you not know him? Here comes the man.
Pist.
Captain, I thee beseech to do me favours:
The duke of Exeter doth love thee well.
Flu.
Ay, I praise Got; and I have merited some
love at his hands.
Pist.
Bardolph, a soldier, firm and sound of heart,
Of buxom valour1 note
, 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. 2 note
Fortune is
painted plind, with a muffler before her eyes, to signify
-- 86 --
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 fortune: fortune, look
you, is an excellent moral.
Pist.
Fortune is Bardolph's foe, and frowns on him;
3 note
For he hath stol'n a pix, and hanged must 'a be.
Damn'd death!
-- 87 --
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.
4 note
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 goot pleasure, and
put him to executions; for disciplines ought to be
used.
Pist.
Die and be damn'd; and figo for thy friendship5 note
!
Flu.
It is well.
Pist.
6 note
The fig of Spain!
[Exit Pistol.
-- 88 --
Flu.
Very good7 note
.
Gow.
Why, this is an arrant counterfeit rascal; I
remember him now; a bawd, a cut-purse.
Flu.
I'll assure you, 'a utter'd as prave 'ords 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.
Gow.
Why, 'tis a gull, a fool, a rogue; that now
and then goes to the wars, to grace himself, at his return
into London, under the form of a soldier. And
such fellows are perfect in the great commanders'
names: and they will learn you by rote, where services
were done;—at such and such 8 notea sconce, at such
-- 89 --
a breach, at such a convoy; who came off bravely,
who was shot, who disgrac'd, what terms the enemy
stood on; and this they con perfectly in the phrase of
war, which they trick up with new-tuned oaths: And
what a beard of the general's cut, and a horrid suit
of the camp9 note, will do among foaming bottles, and alewash'd
wits, is wonderful to be thought on! But you
must learn to know 1 notesuch slanders of the age, or else
you may be marvellously mistook.
Flu.
I tell you what, captain Gower;—I do perceive,
he is not the man that he would gladly make shew to
the 'orld he is; if I find a hole in his coat, I will tell
him my mind. Hear you, the king is coming; and
2 note
I must speak with him from the pridge.
-- 90 --
Drum and colours. Enter the king, Gloster, and soldiers. 9Q0792
Flu.
God pless you majesty!
K. Henry.
How now, Fluellen? cam'st thou from
the bridge?
Flu.
Ay, so please your majesty. The duke of
Exeter has 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 enforced 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 9Q0793 for robbing a church, one Bardolph,
if your majesty know the man: his face is all
bubukles, and whelks, and knobs3 note
, and flames of
fire; and his lips plows at his nose, and it is like a
coal of fire, sometimes plue, and sometimes red; but
his nose is executed, and 4 notehis fire's out.
-- 91 --
K. Henry.
We would have all such offenders so cut
off:—and we give express charge, that, in our marches
through the country, there be nothing compelled
from the villages, nothing taken but paid for; none
of the French upbraided, or abused in disdainful
language; For when lenity and cruelty play for a
kingdom, the gentlest gamester is the soonest winner.
Tucket sounds. 5 noteEnter Montjoy.
Mont.
You know me 6 noteby my habit.
K. Henry.
Well then, I know thee; What shall I
know of thee?
Mont.
My master's mind.
K. Henry.
Unfold it.
Mont.
Thus says my king:—Say thou to Harry of
England, Though we seemed dead, we did but sleep;
Advantage is a better soldier, than rashness. Tell him,
we could have rebuk'd him at Harfleur; but that we
thought not good to bruise an injury, 'till it were full
ripe:—now we speak 7 noteupon our cue, and our voice
is imperial: England shall repent his folly, see his
weakness, and admire our sufferance. Bid him, therefore,
consider of his ransom; which must proportion
the losses we have borne, the subjects we have lost,
the disgrace we have digested; which, in weight to
re-answer, his pettiness would bow under. For our
losses, his exchequer is too poor; for the effusion of
-- 92 --
our blood, the muster of his kingdom too faint a
number; and for our disgrace, his own person, kneeling
at our feet, but a weak and worthless satisfaction.
To this add—defiance: and tell him, for conclusion,
he hath betray'd his followers, whose condemnation is
pronounced. So far my king and master; 8 noteso much
my office.
K. Henry.
What is thy name? I know thy quality.
Mont.
Montjoy.
K. Henry.
Thou dost 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 impeachment* note: for, to say the sooth,
(Though 'tis no wisdom to confess so much
Unto an enemy of craft and vantage)
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
Did march three Frenchmen.—Yet, forgive me God,
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, 9 note
God before, tell him we will come on,
-- 93 --
Though France himself, and such another neighbour,
Stand in our way. There's for thy labour, Montjoy1 note
.
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: and so, Montjoy, fare you well.
The sum of all our answer is but this:
We would not seek a battle, as we are;
Nor, as we are, we say, we will not shun it;
So tell your master.
Mont.
I shall deliver so. Thanks to your highness.
[Exit.
Glo.
I hope, they will not come upon us now.
K. Henry.
We are in God's hand, brother, not in theirs.—
March to the bridge; it now draws toward night:—
Beyond the river we'll encamp ourselves;
And on to-morrow bid them march away.
[Exeunt.
-- 94 --
3 noteSCENE VII.
The French camp near Agincourt.
Enter the constable of France, the lord Rambures, the Duke of Orleans, Dauphin, with others.
Con.
Tut! I have the best armour of the world.—
Would, it were day!
Orl.
You have an excellent armour; but let my
horse have his due.
Con.
It is the best horse of Europe.
Orl.
Will it never be morning?
Dau.
My lord of Orleans, and my lord high constable,
you talk of horse and armour,—
Orl.
You are as well provided of both, as any
prince in the world.
Dau.
What a long night is this!—I will not change
my horse with any that treads but on four pasterns.
Ça, ha! 4 noteHe bounds from the earth, as if his entrails
were hairs; le cheval volant, the Pegasus, qui a
les narines de feu! When I bestride him, I soar, I am
a hawk: he trots the air; the earth sings when he
touches it; the basest horn of his hoof is more musical
than the pipe of Hermes.
Orl.
He's of the colour of the nutmeg.
Dau.
And of the heat of the ginger. It is a
beast for Perseus: he is pure air and fire5 note
; and the
-- 95 --
dull elements of earth and water never appear in him,
but only in patient stillness, while his rider mounts
him: he is, indeed, a horse; 6 note
and all other jades you
may call—beasts.
Con.
Indeed, my lord, it is a most absolute and
excellent horse.
Dau.
It is the prince of palfreys; his neigh is
like the bidding of a monarch, and his countenance
enforces homage.
Orl.
No more, cousin.
Dau.
Nay, the man hath no wit, that cannot, from
the rising of the lark to the lodging of the lamb, vary
deserved praise on my palfrey: it is a theme as fluent
as the sea; turn the sands into eloquent tongues, and
my horse is argument for them all: 'tis a subject for
a sovereign to reason on, and for a sovereign's sovereign
to ride on; and for the world (familiar to us,
and unknown) to lay apart their particular functions,
and wonder at him. I once writ a sonnet in his praise,
and began thus, 7 note
Wonder of nature, &lblank;
-- 96 --
Orl.
I have heard a sonnet begin so to one's mistress.
Dau.
Then did they imitate that which I compos'd
to my courser; for my horse is my mistress.
Orl.
Your mistress bears well.
Dau.
Me well; which is the prescript praise and
perfection of a good and particular mistress.
Con.
Ma foy! the other day, methought, your mistress
shrewdly shook your back.
Dau.
So, perhaps, did yours.
Con.
Mine was not bridled.
Dau.
O! then, belike, she was old and gentle; and
you rode, 8 note
like a kerne of Ireland, your French hose
off, and in your strait trossers. 9Q0794
-- 97 --
Con.
You have good judgment in horsemanship.
Dau.
Be warn'd by me then: they that ride so, and
ride not warily, fall into foul bogs; I had rather have
my horse to my mistress.
Con.
I had as lief have my mistress a jade.
Dau.
I tell thee, constable, my mistress wears her
own hair.
Con.
I could make as true a boast as that, if I had
a sow to my mistress.
Dau.
Le chien est retournè à son propre vomissement,
& la truie lavée au bourbier: thou mak'st use of any
thing.
Con.
Yet do I not use my horse for my mistress; or
any such proverb, so little kin to the purpose.
Ram.
My lord constable, the armour, that I saw
in your tent to-night, are those stars, or suns, upon it?
Con.
Stars, my lord.
Dau.
Some of them will fall to-morrow, I hope.
Con.
And yet my sky shall not want.
Dau.
That may be, for you bear many superfluously;
and 'twere more honour, some were away.
Con.
Even as your horse bears your praises; who
would trot as well, were some of your brags dismounted.
Dau.
Would I were able to load him with his desert!
-- 98 --
Will it never be day? I will trot to-morrow a mile,
and my way shall be paved with English faces.
Con.
I will not say so, for fear I should be fac'd out
of my way: But I would it were morning, for I would
fain be about the ears of the English.
Ram.
Who will go to hazard with me for twenty
English prisoners9 note
?
Con.
You must first go yourself to hazard, ere you
have them.
Dau.
'Tis midnight, I'll go arm myself.
[Exit.
Orl.
The Dauphin longs for morning.
Ram.
He longs to eat the English.
Con.
I think, he will eat all he kills.
Orl.
By the white hand of my lady, he's a gallant
prince.
Con.
Swear by her foot, that she may tread out the
oath.
Orl.
He is, simply, the most active gentleman of
France.
Con.
Doing is activity; and he will still be doing.
Orl.
He never did harm, that I heard of.
Con.
Nor will do none to-morrow; he will keep
that good name still.
Orl.
I know him to be valiant.
Con.
I was told that, by one that knows him better
than you.
Orl.
What's he?
Con.
Marry, he told me so himself; and he said, he
car'd not who knew it.
Orl.
He needs not, it is no hidden virtue in him.
Con.
By my faith, Sir, but it is; never any body
-- 99 --
aw it, but 1 notehis lacquey: 2 note'tis a hooded valour; and,
when it appears, it will bate.
Orl.
Ill will never said well.
Con.
3 noteI will cap that proverb with—There is flattery
in friendship.
Orl.
And I will take up that with—Give the devil
his due.
Con.
Well plac'd; there stands your friend for the
devil: have at the very eye of that proverb, 4 notewith
—A pox of the devil.
Or.
You are the better at proverbs, by how much
—A fool's bolt is soon shot.
Con.
You have shot over.
Orl.
'Tis not the first time you were over-shot.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess.
My lord high constable, the English lie within
fifteen hundred paces of your tent.
Con.
Who hath measur'd the ground?
Mess.
The lord Grandpré.
Con.
A valiant and most expert gentleman.—
5 note
'Would it were day!—Alas, poor Harry of England!
he longs not for the dawning, as we do.
-- 100 --
Orl.
What a wretched and peevish* note
fellow is this
king of England, to mope with his fat-brain'd followers
so far out of his knowledge!
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
head-pieces.
Ram.
That island of England breeds very valiant
creatures; their mastiffs 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 dare 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 beef6 note
, 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 we shall 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.
-- 101 --
ACT IV.
Enter Chorus.
Chorus.
Now entertain conjecture of a time,
When creeping murmur, and the poring dark,
7 note
Fills the wide vessel of the universe.
From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night,
The hum of either army stilly sounds,
That the fix'd centinels almost receive
The secret whispers of each other's watch:
Fire answers fire; and through their paly flames
Each battles sees 8 note
the other's umber'd face:
-- 102 --
Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs
Piercing the night's dull ear; 9 note
and from the tents,
The armourers, accomplishing the knights,
With busy hammers closing rivets up,
Give dreadful note of preparation.
1 note
The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll;
-- 103 --
And the third hour of drowsy morning name.
Proud of their numbers, and secure in soul,
The confident and over-lusty French
2 noteDo the low-rated English play at dice;
And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night,
Who, like a foul and ugly witch, doth limp
So tediously away. The poor condemned English,
Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires
Sit patiently, and inly ruminate
The morning's danger; and their gesture sad,
3 note
Investing lank-lean cheeks, and war-worn coats,
Presented them unto the gazing moon 9Q0795
So many horrid ghosts. O, now, who will behold
-- 104 --
The royal captain of this ruin'd band,
Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent,
Let him cry—Praise and glory on his head!
For forth he goes, and visits all his host;
Bids them good morrow, with a modest smile;
And calls them—brothers, friends, and countrymen.
Upon his royal face there is no note,
How dread an army hath enrounded him;
Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour
Unto the weary and all-watched night:
But freshly looks, and over-bears attaint,
With cheerful semblance, and sweet majesty;
That every wretch, pining and pale before,
Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks:
A largess universal, like the sun,
His liberal eye doth give to every one,
Thawing cold 4 note
fear. Then, mean and gentle all,
Behold, as may unworthiness define,
A little touch of Harry in the night:
And so our scene must to the battle fly;
Where, (O for pity!) we shall much disgrace—
With four or five most vile and ragged foils,
Right ill dispos'd, in brawl ridiculous,—
The name of Agincourt: Yet, sit and see;
5 noteMinding true things by what their mockeries be.
[Exit.
-- 105 --
SCENE I.
The English camp, at Agincourt.
Enter King Henry, Bedford, and Gloster.
K. Henry.
Gloster, 'tis true, that we are in great danger;
The greater therefore should our courage be.—
Good morrow, brother Bedford.—God Almighty!
There is some soul of goodness in things evil,
Would men observingly distil it out;
For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers,
Which is both healthful, and good husbandry:
Besides, they are our outward consciences,
And preachers to us all; admonishing,
That we should dress us fairly for our end. 9Q0796
Thus may we gather honey from the weed,
And make a moral of the devil himself.
Enter Erpingham.
Good morrow, 6 note
old Sir Thomas Erpingham:
A good soft pillow for that good white head
Were better than a churlish turf of France.
Erping.
Not so, my liege; this lodging likes me better,
Since I may say—now lie I like a king.
K. Henry.
'Tis good for men to love their present pains,
Upon example; so the spirit is eased:
And, when the mind is quicken'd, out of doubt,
-- 106 --
The organs, though defunct and dead before,
Break up their drowsy grave, and newly move
7 note
With casted slough and fresh legerity.
Lend me thy cloak, Sir Thomas.—Brothers both,
Commend me to the princes in our camp;
Do my good morrow to them; and, anon,
Desire them all to my pavilion.
Glo.
We shall, my liege.
Erping.
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.
Erping.
The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble Harry!
K. Henry.
God-a-mercy, old heart! thou speak'st cheerfully.
[Exeunt.
Enter Pistol.
Pist.
Qui va lá?
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.
Even so: What are you?
Pist.
As good a gentleman as the emperor.
K. Henry.
Then you are a better than the king.
Pist.
The king's a bawcock, and a heart of gold;
-- 107 --
A lad of life, an imp of fame8 note;
Of parents good, of fist most valiant:
I kiss his dirty shoe, and from my heart-strings
I love the lovely bully. What's thy name?
K. Henry.
Harry le Roy.
Pist.
Le Roy! a Cornish name: art thou of Cornish crew?
K. Henry.
No, I am a Welshman.
Pist.
Know'st thou Fluellen?
K. Henry.
Yes.
Pist.
Tell him, I'll knock his leek about his pate
Upon saint David's day.
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!
K. Henry.
I thank you: God be with you!
Pist.
My name is Pistol call'd.
[Exit.
K. Henry.
It sorts9 note
well with your fierceness.
Enter Fluellen, and Gower, severally.
Gow.
Captain Fluellen,—
Flu.
So! in the name of Cheshu Christ, speak fewer.
It is the greatest admiration in the universal 'orld,
when the true and auncient 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 tittle tattle,
-- 108 --
nor pibble pabble, in Pompey's camp; I warrant
you, you shall find the ceremonies of the wars, and
the cares of it, and the forms of it, and the sobriety
of it, and the modesty of it, to be otherwise.
Gow.
Why, the enemy is loud; you heard 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?
Gow.
I will speak lower.
Flu.
I pray you, and beseech you, that you will.
[Exeunt.
K. Henry.
Though it appear a little out of fashion,
There is much care and valour in this Welshman.
Enter three soldiers, John Bates, Alexander Court, and Michael Williams.
Court.
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.
Will.
We see yonder the beginning of the day, 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 it is not meet he should. For,
though 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
-- 109 --
his senses have but human1 noteconditions: his ceremonies
laid by, in his nakedness he appears but a man;
and though his affections are higher mounted than ours,
yet, when they stoop, they stoop with the like wing;
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 ransom'd, and a many poor men's
lives sav'd.
K. Henry.
I dare say, you love him not so ill, to
wish him here alone; howsoever you speak this, to
feel other men's minds: 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.
Will.
But, if the cause be not good, the king himself
hath a heavy reckoning to make; when all those
-- 110 --
legs, and arms, and heads, chop'd off in a battle,
shall join together at the latter day, and cry all—We
dy'd at such a place; some, swearing; some, crying
for a surgeon; some, upon their wives left poor behind
them; some, upon the debts they owe; some,
upon2 note
their children rawly left. I am afeard there
are few die well, that die in a 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 by his father sent
about merchandize, do sinfully miscarry upon the
sea, the imputation of his wickedness, by your rule,
should be imposed upon his father that sent him: or
if a servant, under his master's command, transporting
a sum of money, be assail'd by robbers, and die
in many irreconcil'd iniquities, you may call the business
of the master the author of the servant's damnation:
—But this is not so: the king is not bound to answer
the particular endings of his soldiers, the father
of his son, nor the master of his servant; for they
purpose not their death, when they purpose their services.
Besides, there is no king, be his cause never
so spotless, if it come to the arbitrement of swords,
can try it out with all unspotted soldiers. Some, peradventure,
have on them the guilt of premeditated
and contrived murder; some, of beguiling virgins
with the broken seals of perjury; some, making the
wars their bulwark, that have before gored the gentle
bosom of peace with pillage and robbery. Now if
these men have defeated the law, and out-run native
-- 111 --
punishment3 note, though they can out-strip men, they
have no wings to fly from God: war is his beadle,
war is his vengeance; so that here men are punished,
for before-breach of the king's laws, in now the
king's quarrel: where they feared the death, they have
borne life away; and where they would be safe, they
perish: Then if they die unprovided, no more is the
king guilty of their damnation, than he was before
guilty of those impieties for the which they are now
visited. 4 noteEvery 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 blessedly
lost, wherein such preparation was gained: and,
in him that escapes, it were not sin to think, that,
making God so free an offer, he let him out-live that
day to see his greatness, and to teach others how they
should prepare.
Will.
'Tis certain, that 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 cheerfully:
but, when our throats are cut, he may be ransom'd,
and we ne'er the wiser.
K. Henry.
If I live to see it, I will never trust his
word after.
-- 112 --
Will.
You pay him then! 5 notethat's a perilous shot out
of an elder gun, that a poor and private displeasure
can do against a monarch! you may as well go about
to turn the sun to ice, with fanning in his face with a
peacock's feather. 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 you 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 bonnet: then, 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 take 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: fare thee well.
Bates.
Be friends, you English fools, be friends; we
have French quarrels enough, if you could tell how to
reckon.
K. Henry.
Indeed, the French may lay 6 note
twenty
-- 113 --
French crowns to one, they will beat us; for they bear
them on their shoulders: But it is no English treason,
to cut French crowns; and, to-morrow, the king himself
will be a clipper.
[Exeunt soldiers.
4 note
Upon the king! let us our lives, our souls,
Our debts, our careful wives, our children, and
Our sins, lay on the king;—we must bear all.
O hard condition! twin-born with greatness,
Subjected to the breath of every fool,
Whose sense no more can feel but his own wringing!
What infinite heart's ease must kings neglect,
That private men enjoy? and what have kings,
That privates have not too, save ceremony?
Save general ceremony?
And what art thou, thou idol ceremony?
What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st more
Of mortal griefs, than do thy worshippers?
8 note
What are thy rents? what are thy comings-in?
-- 114 --
O ceremony, shew me but thy worth!
What is thy soul, O adoration?
Art thou aught 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 flattery? O, be sick, great greatness,
And bid thy ceremony give thee cure!
Think'st thou, the fiery fever will go out
With titles blown from adulation?
Will it give place to flexure and low bending?
Can'st thou, when thou command'st the beggar's knee,
Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream,
That play'st so subtly with a king's repose,
I am a king, that find thee: and I know,
'Tis not the balm, the scepter, and the ball,
The sword, the mace, the crown imperial,
-- 115 --
The enter-tissued robe of gold and pearl,
The 9 note
farsed title running 'fore the king,
The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp
That beats upon the high shore of the world,
No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous ceremony,
Not all these, laid in bed majestical,
1 note
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,
Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king.
The slave, a member of the country's peace,
Enjoys it; but in gross brain little wots,
What watch the king keeps to maintain the peace,
Whose hours the peasant best advantages.
-- 116 --
Enter Erpingham.
Erp.
My lord, your nobles, jealous of your absence,
Seek through your camp to find you.
K. Henry.
Good old knight,
Collect them all together at my tent:
I'll be before thee.
Erp.
I shall do't, my lord.
[Exit.
K. Henry.
O God of battles! steel my soldiers' hearts!
Possess them not with fear; 2 note
take from them now
The sense of reckoning, if the opposed numbers
Pluck their hearts from them!—Not to-day, O Lord,
O not to-day, think not upon the fault
My father made in compassing the crown!
I Richard's body have interred new;
-- 117 --
And on it have bestow'd more contrite tears,
Than from it issu'd forced drops of blood.
Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay,
Who twice a day their wither'd hands hold up
Toward heaven, to pardon blood; and I have built
Two chantries, where the sad and solemn priests
Sing still for Richard's soul. More will I do:
Though all that I can do, is nothing worth;
3 note
Since that my penitence comes after all,
Imploring pardon.
Enter Gloster.
Glo.
My liege!
K. Henry.
My brother Gloster's voice?—Ay;
I know thy errand, I will go with thee:—
The day, my friends, and all things stay for me.
[Exeunt.
-- 118 --
SCENE II.
The French camp.
Enter the Dauphin, Orleans, Rambures, and Beaumont.
Orl.
The sun doth gild our armour; up, my lords.
Dau.
Montez a cheval:—My horse! valet! lacquay!
ha!
Orl.
O brave spirit!
Dau.
4 note
Via!—les eaux & la terre.—
Orl.
Rien plus? l'air & le feu.—
Dau.
Ciel! cousin Orleans.—
Enter Constable.
Now, my lord Constable!
Con.
Hark, how our steeds for present service neigh.
Dau.
Mount them, and make incision in their hides;
That their hot blood may spin in English eyes,
And daunt them 5 notewith superfluous courage: Ha!
-- 119 --
Ram.
What, will you have them weep our horses' blood?
How shall we then behold their natural tears?
Enter a Messenger.
Mess.
The English are embattled, you French peers.
Con.
To horse, you gallant princes! strait to horse!
Do but behold yon poor and starved band,
And your fair shew shall suck away their souls,
Leaving them but the shales and husks of men.
There is not work enough for all our hands;
Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins,
To give each naked curtle-ax a stain,
That our French gallants shall to-day draw out,
And sheath for lack of sport: let us but blow on them,
The vapour of our valour will o'erturn them.
'Tis positive 'gainst all exceptions, lords,
That our superfluous lacqueys, and our peasants,—
Who, in unnecessary action, swarm
About our squares of battle,—were enough
To purge this field of such a hilding foe;
Though we, upon this mountain's basis by
Took stand for idle speculation:
But that our honours must not. What's to say?
A very little little let us do,
And all is done. Then let the trumpets sound
6 note
The tucket-sonuance, and the note to mount:
-- 120 --
For our approach shall so much dare the field,
That England shall couch down in fear, and yield.
Enter Grandpré.
Grand.
Why do you stay so long, my lords of France?
Yon island carrions, desperate of their bones,
Ill-favour'dly become the morning field:
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.
7 note
Their horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks,
With torch-staves in their hand: and their poor jades
Lob down their heads, dropping the hide and hips;
The gum down-roping from their pale-dead eyes;
And in their pale dull mouths the 8 note
gimmal bit
-- 121 --
Lies foul with chew'd grass, still and motionless;
And 9 notetheir 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 lifeless as it shews itself.
Con.
They have said their prayers, and they stay for death.
Dau.
Shall we go send them dinners, and fresh suits,
And give their fasting horses provender,
And after fight with them?
Con.
1 note
I stay but for my guard; On, to the field:
I will the banner from a trumpet take,
-- 122 --
And use it for my haste. Come, come away!
The sun is high, and we out-wear the day.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
The English camp.
Enter Gloster, Bedford, Exeter, Erpingham, with all the English host; Salisbury and Westmoreland.
Glo.
Where is the king?
Bed.
The king himself is rode to view their battle.
West.
Of fighting men they have full threescore thousand.
Exe.
There's five to one; besides, they all are fresh.
Sal.
God's arm strike with us! 'tis a fearful odds.
God be wi' you, princes all; I'll to my charge:
If we no more meet, 'till we meet in heaven,
Then, joyfully,—my noble lord of Bedford,—
My dear lord Gloster,—and my good lord Exeter,—
And my kind kinsman,—warriors all, adieu!
Bed.
2 note
Farewel, good Salisbury; and good luck go with thee!
Exe.
Exe. to Sal.
Farewel, kind lord; fight valiantly to-day:
-- 123 --
And yet I do thee wrong, to mind thee of it,
For thou art fram'd 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?
3 noteMy cousin Westmoreland?—No, my fair cousin:
If we are mark'd to die, we are enough
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
4 noteBy Jove, I am not covetous for gold;
Nor care I, who doth feed upon my cost;
It yerns me not, if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires:
But, if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, 'faith, my coz, wish not a man from England:
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour,
As one man more, methinks, would share from me,
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more:
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he, which 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,
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
-- 124 --
This day is call'd—the feast of 5 noteCrispian:
He, that out-lives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
And rouze him at the name of Crispian.
He, that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his friends,
And say—to-morrow is saint Crispian:
Then will he strip his sleeve, and shew his scars.
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But they'll remember, 6 notewith advantages,
What feats they did that day: Then shall our names,
Familiar in their mouth as houshold words,—
Harry the king, Bedford, and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloster,—
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd:
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
7 noteFrom this day to the ending of the world,
-- 125 --
But we in it shall be remembered:
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he, to-day that sheds his blood with me,
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall 8 note
gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England, now a-bed,
Shall think themselves accurs'd, they were not here;
And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks,
That fought with us 9 noteupon saint Crispin's day.
Enter Salisbury.
Sal.
My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with speed:
The French are 1 notebravely in their battles set,
And will with all expedience 2 notecharge on us.
K. Henry.
All things are ready, if our minds be so.
West.
Perish the man, whose mind is backward now!
K. Henry.
Thou dost not wish more help from England, cousin?
West.
God's will, my liege, 'would you and I alone,
Without more help, might fight this battle out!
K. Henry.
Why, now 3 note
thou hast unwish'd five thousand men;
-- 126 --
Which likes me better, than to wish us one.—
You know your places: God be with you all!
Tucket. Enter Montjoy.
Mont.
Once more I come to know of thee, king Harry,
If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound,
Before thy most assured over-throw:
For, certainly, thou art so near the gulf,
Thou needs must be englutted. Besides, in mercy,
The Constable desires thee—thou wilt mind
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?
Mont.
The Constable of France.
K. Henry.
I pray thee, bear my former answer back;
Bid them atchieve me, and then sell my bones.
Good God! 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.
A many4 note of our bodies shall, no doubt,
Find native graves; upon the which, I trust,
Shall witness live in brass of this day's work:
And those that leave their valiant bones in France,
Dying like men, though buried in your dunghills,
-- 127 --
They shall be fam'd; for there the sun shall greet them,
And draw their honours reeking up to heaven;
Leaving their earthly parts to choak your clime,
The smell whereof shall breed a plague in France.
5 note
Mark then a bounding valour in our English;
That, being dead, like to the bullet's grazing,
Breaks out into a second course of mischief,
6 note
Killing in relapse of mortality.
-- 128 --
Let me speak proudly;—Tell the constable,
We are but7 notewarriors for the working-day:
Our gayness, and our gilt8 note
, are all besmirch'd
With rainy marching in the painful field;
There's not a piece of feather in our host,
(Good argument, I hope, we shall not fly)
And time hath worn us into slovenry:
But, by the mass, our hearts are in the 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. If they do this,
(As, if God please, they shall) my ransom then
Will soon be levy'd. Herald, save thy labour;
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 to them,
Shall yield them little, tell the Constable.
Mont.
I shall, king Harry. And so fare thee well:
-- 129 --
Thou never shalt hear herald any more.
[Exit.
K. Henry.
I fear, thou'lt once more come again for ransom.
Enter the Duke of York.
York.
My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg
The leading of the vaward.
K. Henry.
Take it, brave York.—Now, soldiers, march away:—
And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day!
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
The field of battle.
Alarum, excursions. Enter Pistol, French soldier, and Boy.
Pist.
Yield, cur.
Fr. Sol.
Je pense, que vous estes le gentilhomme de
bonne qualité.
Pist.
9 note
Quality, call you me?—Construe me, art
thou a gentleman? What is thy name? discuss1 note
.
Fr. Sol.
O seigneur Dieu!
Pist.
O, signieur Dew should be a gentleman2 note:—
-- 130 --
Perpend my words, O signieur Dew, and mark;—
O signieur Dew, 3 note
thou dy'st on point of fox,
Except, O signieur, thou do give to me
Egregious ransom.
Fr. Sol.
O, prennez misericorde! ayez pitié de moy!
Pist.
Moy shall not serve, I will have forty moys;
4 note
For I will fetch thy rim out at thy throat,
In drops of crimson blood.
-- 131 --
Fr. Sol.
Est-il impossible d'eschapper la force de ton
bras?
Pist.
5 note
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 6 notea ton of moys?—
Come hither, boy; Ask me this slave in French,
What is his name.
-- 132 --
Boy.
Escoutez; Comment estes vous appellé?
Fr. Sol.
Monsieur le Fer.
Boy.
He says, his name is—master Fer.
Pist.
Master Fer! I'll fer him, and firk him7 note
, and
ferret him:—discuss the same in French unto him.
Boy.
I do not know the French for fer, and ferret,
and firk.
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 vous teniez
prest; car ce soldat icy est dispose tout à cette heure de
couper vostre gorge.
Pist.
Ouy, couper gorge, par ma foy, pesant,
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, me
pardonner! Je suis gentilhomme de bonne maison; gardez
ma vie, & je vous donneray deux cents escus.
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.
-- 133 --
Fr. Sol.
Petit monsieur, que dit-il?
Boy.
Encore qu'il est contre son jurement, de pardonner
aucun prisonnier; neantmoins, pour les escus que vous l'avez
promettez, il est content de vous donner la liberté, le
franchisement.
Fr. Sol.
Sur mes genoux, je vous donne mille remerciemens:
& je m'estime heureux que je suis tombé tombe entre les
mains d'un chevalier, je pense, le plus brave, valiant,
& tres distingué 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 fallen
into the hands of one, (as he thinks) the most brave,
valorous, and thrice-worthy signieur of England.
Pist.
As I suck blood, I will some mercy shew.—
Follow me, cur.
Boy.
Suivez vous le grand capitaine.
[Exit Pistol, and French Soldier.
I did never know so full a voice issue from so empty a
heart: but the saying is true,—The empty vessel
makes the greatest sound. Bardolph, and Nym, had
ten times more valour than 8 note
this roaring devil i'the
-- 134 --
old play, that every one may pare his nails with a
wooden dagger; yet they are both hang'd; and so
would this be, if he durst steal any thing advent'rously.
I must stay with the lacqueys, with the
luggage of our camp: the French might have a
good prey of us, if he knew of it; for there is none
to guard it, but boys.
[Exit.
SCENE V.
Another part of the field of battle.
Enter Constable, Orleans, Bourbon, Dauphin, and Rambures.
Con.
O diable!
Orl.
O seigneur!—le jour est perdu, tout est perdu!
Dau.
Mort de ma vie! all is confounded, all!
Reproach and everlasting shame
Sits mocking in our plumes.—
[A short alarm.
O meschante fortune!—Do not run away.
Con.
Why, all our ranks are broke.
Dau.
O perdurable shame9 note
!—let's stab ourselves.
Be these the wretches that we play'd at dice for?
Orl.
Is this the king we sent to for his ransom?
Bour.
Shame, and eternal shame, nothing but shame!
1 note
Let us die, instant:—Once more back again;
-- 135 --
And he that will not follow Bourbon now,
Let him go hence, and, with his cap in hand,
2 note
Like a base pander, hold the chamber-door,
Whilst by a slave, no gentler than my dog,
His fairest daughter is contaminated.
Con.
Disorder, that hath spoil'd us, friend us now!
Let us, in heaps, go offer up our lives
3 noteUnto these English, or else die with fame.
Orl.
We are enough, yet living in the field,
To smother up the English in our throngs,
If any order might be thought upon.
Bour.
The devil take order now! I'll to the throng;
Let life be short; else, shame will be too long.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI.
Alarum. Enter king Henry and his train, with prisoners.
K. Henry.
Well have we done, thrice-valiant countrymen:
But all's not done, yet keep the French 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 blood he was.
Exe.
In which array, (brave soldier,) doth he lie,
Larding the plain: and by his bloody side,
(Yoak-fellow to his honour-owing wounds,)
The noble earl of Suffolk also lies.
-- 136 --
Suffolk first dy'd: and York, all haggled over,
Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteep'd,
And takes him by the beard; kisses the gashes,
That bloodily did yawn upon his face;
And cries aloud,—Tarry, dear cousin Suffolk!
My soul shall thine keep company to heaven:
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, raught 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 kiss'd his lips;
And so, espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd
A testament of noble-ending love. 9Q0797
The pretty and sweet manner of it forc'd
Those waters from me, which I would have stopp'd;
But I had not so much of man in me,
4 note
But all my mother came into mine eyes,
And gave me up to tears.
K. Henry.
I blame you not;
5 note
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:—
-- 137 --
Then every soldier kill his prisoners;
6 note
Give the word through.
[Exeunt.
7 noteSCENE VII.
Alarums continued; after which, Enter Fluellen and Gower.
Flu.
8 note
Kill the poys and the luggage! 'tis expressly
against the law of arms: 'tis as arrant a piece of
-- 138 --
knavery, mark you now, as can be offer'd, in the 'orld:
In your conscience now, is it not?
Gow.
'Tis certain, there's not a boy left alive; and
the cowardly rascals, that ran away from the battle,
have done this slaughter: besides, they have burn'd
or carried away all that was in the king's tent; wherefore
the king, most worthily, has caus'd every soldier
to cut his prisoner's throat. O, 'tis a gallant king!
Flu.
I, he was porn at Monmouth 9Q0798, captain Gower:
What call you the town's name, where Alexander the
pig was born?
Gow.
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.
Gow.
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. I tell you, captain,—If you look in the maps
of the 'orld, I warrant, you shall find, in the comparisons
between Macedon and Monmouth, that the
situations, look you, is both alike. There is a river
in Macedon; and there is also moreover a river at Monmouth:
it is call'd Wye, at Monmouth; but it is out
-- 139 --
of my prains, what is the name of the other river;
but 'tis all one, 'tis so like as my fingers is 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 (Got 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 pest friend Clytus.
Gow.
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 made an end and
finish'd. I speak but in figures and comparisons of
it: 9 noteAs Alexander is kill his friend Clytus, being in
his ales and his cups; so also Harry Monmouth,
being in his right wits and his goot judgments, is
turn away 1 notethe fat knight with the great pelly-doublet:
he was full of jests, and gypes, and knaveries, and
mocks; I am forget his name.
Gow.
Sir John Falstaff.
Flu.
That is he: I tell you, there is goot men
porn at Monmouth.
Gow.
Here comes his majesty.
-- 140 --
Alarum. Enter king Henry, Warwick, Gloster, Exeter, &c. 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 skir away2 note, as swift as stones
Enforced from the old Assyrian slings:
3 note
Besides, we'll cut the throats of those we have;
And not a man of them, that we shall take,
Shall taste our mercy:—Go, and tell them so.
-- 141 --
Enter Montjoy.
Exe.
Here comes the herald of the French, my liege.
Glo.
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?
Mont.
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!)
Lie 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 fetlock deep in gore, and, with wild rage,
Yerk out their armed heels4 note
at their dead masters,
Killing them twice. 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.
Mont.
The day is yours.
K. Henry.
Praised be God, and not our strength, for it!—
-- 142 --
What is this castle call'd, that stands hard by?
Mont.
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 Welshmen did goot service
in a 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 saint Tavy's day.
K. Henry.
I wear it for a memorable honour:
For I am Welsh, you know, good countryman.
Flu.
All the water in Wye cannot wash your majesty's
Welsh plood out of your pody, I can tell you
that: Got pless and preserve it, as long as it pleases
his grace and his majesty too!
K. Henry.
Thanks, good my countryman.
Flu.
By Cheshu, I am your majesty's countryman,
I care not who know it; I will confess it to all the
'orld: I need not to be ashamed of your majesty, praised
be God, so long as your majesty is an honest man.
K. Henry.
God keep me so!—Our heralds go with him;
Enter Williams.
Bring me just notice of the numbers dead
On both our parts.—Call yonder fellow hither.
[Exeunt Montjoy and others.
Exe.
Soldier, you must come to the king.
K. Henry.
Soldier, why wear'st thou that glove in
thy cap?
-- 143 --
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 'a live, and if ever
dare to challenge this glove, I have sworn to take
him a box o'the ear: or, if I can see my glove in his
cap (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 this soldier keep his oath?
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
5 note
great sort, 6 notequite from the answer of his degree.
Flu.
Though he be as goot a gentleman as the tevil
is, as 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 jack-sawce, as ever his plack shoe
trod upon Got's ground and his earth, in my conscience,
la.
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 servest thou under?
Will.
Under captain Gower, my liege.
Flu.
Gower is a goot captain; and is good knowledge
and literature in the wars.
K. Henry.
Call him hither to me, soldier.
Will.
I will, my liege.
[Exit.
-- 144 --
K. Henry.
Here Fluellen; wear thou this favour
for me, and stick it in thy cap: When Alençon and
myself were down together, I pluck'd this glove from
his helm: if any man challenge this, he is a friend
to Alençon and an enemy to our person; if thou encounter
any such, apprehend him, an thou dost love
me.
Flu.
Your grace does me as great honours, as can
be desir'd in the hearts of his subjects: I would fain
see the man, that has but two legs, that shall find
himself aggrief'd at this glove, that is all; but I
would fain see it once; an please Got of his grace,
that I might see it.
K. Henry.
Know'st thou Gower?
Flu.
He is my dear friend, an please you.
K. Henry.
Pray thee, go seek him, and bring him
to my tent.
Flu.
I will fetch him.
[Exit.
K. Henry.
My lord of Warwick,—and my brother Gloster,—
Follow Fluellen closely at the heels:
The glove, which I have given him for a favour,
May, haply, purchase him a box o'the ear;
It is the soldier's; I, by bargain, should
Wear it myself. Follow, good cousin Warwick:
If that the soldier strike him, (as, I judge
By his blunt bearing, he will keep his word)
Some sudden mischief may arise of it;
For I do know Fluellen valiant,
And, touch'd with choler, hot as gun-powder,
And quickly he'll return an injury:
Follow, and see there be no harm between them.—
Go you with me, uncle of Exeter.
[Exeunt.
-- 145 --
SCENE VIII.
Before king Henry's pavilion.
Enter Gower, and Williams.
Will.
I warrant, it is to knight you, captain.
Enter Fluellen.
Flu.
Got's will and his pleasure, captain, I peseech
you now, come apace to the king: there is
more goot toward you, peradventure, than is in your
knowledge 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.
'Sblud, an arrant traitor, as any's in the universal
'orld, or in France, or in England.
Gow.
How now, Sir? you villain!
Will.
Do you think I'll be forsworn?
Flu.
Stand away, captain Gower; I will give treason
his payment 7 note
into plows, I warrant you.
Will.
I am no traitor.
Flu.
That's a lye in thy throat.—I charge you in his
majesty's name, apprehend him; he's a friend of the
duke Alençon's.
Enter Warwick, and Gloster.
War.
How now, how now! what's the matter?
Flu.
My lord of Warwick, here is (praised be Got
-- 146 --
for it) a most contagious treason come to light, look
you, as you shall desire in a summer's day. Here is
his majesty.
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 Alençon.
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 cap; I promis'd to strike him,
if he did: I met this man with my glove in his cap,
and I have been as good as my word.
Flu.
Your majesty hear 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 Alençon, that your majesty is give me, in
your conscience now.
K. Henry.
8 noteGive me thy glove, soldier; Look, here
is the fellow of it. 'Twas I, 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 liege, 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; witness the
night, your garments, your lowliness; and what your
highness suffer'd under that shape, I beseech you,
-- 147 --
take it for your own fault, and not mine: for had you
been as I took you for, I made no offence; therefore,
I beseech your highness, pardon me.
K. Henry.
Here, uncle Exeter, fill this glove with crowns,
And give it to this fellow.—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 this light, the fellow has
mettle enough in his pelly:—Hold, there is twelve
pence for you, and I pray you to serve Got, and keep
you out of prawls, and prabbles, and quarrels, and dissensions,
and, I warrant you, it is the petter for you.
Will.
I will none of your money.
Flu.
It is with a goot will; I can tell you, it will
serve you to mend your shoes: Come, wherefore
should you be so pashful? your shoes is not so goot:
'tis a goot silling, I warrant you, or I will change it.
Enter Herald.
K. Henry.
Now, herald; are the dead number'd?
Her.
Here is the number of the slaughter'd French.
K. Henry.
What prisoners of good sort are taken, uncle?
Exe.
9 noteCharles duke of Orleans, nephew to the king;
John duke of Bourbon, and lord Bouciqualt:
Of other lords, and barons, knights, and 'squires,
Full fifteen hundred, besides common men.
K. Henry.
This note doth tell me of ten thousand French,
That in the field lie slain: of princes, in this number,
And nobles bearing banners, there lie dead
One hundred twenty-six: added to these,
-- 148 --
Of knights, esquires, and gallant gentlemen,
Eight thousand and four hundred; of the which,
Five hundred were but yesterday dubb'd knights:
So that, in these ten thousand they have lost,
There are but 1 notesixteen hundred mercenaries;
The rest are—princes, barons, lords, knights, 'squires,
And gentlemen of blood and quality.
The names of those their nobles that lie dead,—
Charles De-la-bret2 note, high constable of France;
Jaques of Chatillon, admiral of France;
The master of the cross-bows, lord Rambures;
Great-master of France, the brave Sir Guischard Dauphin;
John duke of Alençon; Anthony duke of Brabant,
The brother to the duke of Burgundy;
And Edward duke of Bar: of lusty earls,
Grandpré, and Roussi, Fauconberg, and Foix,
Beaumont, and Marle, Vaudemont, and Lestrale.
Here was a royal fellowship of death!—
Where is the number of our English dead?
Exe.
3 noteEdward the duke of York, the earl of Suffolk,
Sir Richard Ketly, Davy Gam esquire:
None else of name; and, of all other men,
But five and twenty.
K. Henry.
O God, thy arm was here!
And not to us, but to thy arm alone,
-- 149 --
Ascribe we all.—When, without stratagem,
But in plain shock and even play of battle,
Was ever known so great and little loss,
On one part and on the other?—Take it, God,
For it is only thine!
Exe.
'Tis wonderful!
K. Henry.
Come, go we in procession to the village:
And be it death proclaimed through our host,
To boast of this, or take that praise from God,
Which is his only.
Flu.
Is it not lawful, an please your majesty, to tell
how many is kill'd?
K. Henry.
Yes, captain; but with this acknowledgement,
That God fought for us.
Flu.
Yes, my conscience, he did us great goot.
K. Henry.
4 noteDo we all holy rites;
Let there be sung Non nobis, and Te Deum.
The dead with charity enclos'd in clay,
We'll then to Calais; and to England then;
Where ne'er from France arriv'd more happy men.
[Exeunt.
ACT V.
Enter Chorus.
Chorus.
Vouchsafe, to those that have not read the story,
That I may prompt them: and for such as have,
I humbly pray them to admit the excuse
-- 150 --
Of time, of numbers, and due course of things,
Which cannot in their huge and proper life
Be here presented. Now we bear the king
Toward Calais: grant him there; and there being seen,
Heave him away upon your winged thoughts
Athwart the sea: Behold, the English beach
Pales in the flood with men, with wives, and boys,
Whose shouts and claps out-voice the deep-mouth'd sea,
Which, like 5 note
a mighty whiffler 'fore the king,
Seems to prepare his way: so let him land;
And, solemnly, see him set on to London.
So swift a pace hath thought, that even now
You may imagine him upon Black-heath:
Where that his lords desire him, to have borne
-- 151 --
His bruised helmet, and his bended sword,
Before him, through the city: he forbids it,
Being free from vainness and self-glorious pride;
6 noteGiving full trophy, signal, and ostent,
Quite from himself, to God. But now behold,
In the quick forge and working-house of thought,
How London doth pour out her citizens!
The mayor, and all his brethren, in best sort,—
7 noteLike to the senators of antique Rome,
With the plebeians swarming at their heels,—
Go forth, and fetch their conquering Cæsar in:
As, by a lower but by loving 8 note
likelihood,
9 noteWere now the general of our gracious empress
(As, in good time, he may) from Ireland coming,
1 noteBringing rebellion broached on his sword,
-- 152 --
How many would the peaceful city quit,
To welcome him? much more, and much more cause,
Did they this Harry. Now in London place him;
(As yet the lamentation of the French
Invites the king of England's stay at home:
The emperor's coming in behalf of France,
To order peace between them) and omit
All the occurences, whatever chanc'd,
'Till Harry's back-return again to France;
There must we bring him; and myself have play'd
The interim, by remembring you—'tis past.
Then brook abridgment; and your eyes advance
After your thoughts, straight back again to France.
SCENE I.
The English camp in France.
2 note
Enter Fluellen, and Gower.
Gow.
Nay, that's right; But why wear you your
leek to-day? saint Davy's day is past.
Flu.
There is occasions and causes why and wherefore
in all things: I will tell you, as my 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
-- 153 --
prings me pread and salt yesterday, look you, and
bid me eat my leek: it was in a place where I could
not 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.
Enter Pistol.
Gow.
Why, here he comes, swelling like a turkey-cock.
Flu.
'Tis no matter for his swellings, nor his turkey-cocks.
—Got pless you, antient Pistol! you scurvy,
lowsy knave, Got pless you!
Pist.
Ha! art thou Bedlam? dost thou thirst, base Trojan,
3 noteTo have me fold up Parca's 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, nor your affections, and your appetites, and
your digestions, does 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. Will [Strikes him.
you be so goot, scald knave, as eat it?
Pist.
Base Trojan, thou shalt die.
Flu.
You say very true, scald knave, when Got's
will is: I will desire you to live in the mean time, and
eat your victuals; come, there is sauce for it.—
[Strikes him.] You call'd me yesterday, mountain-squire;
but I will make you to-day a 4 note
squire of low
-- 154 --
degree. I pray you, fall to; if you can mock a leek,
you can eat a leek.
Gow.
Enough, captain; you have 5 noteastonish'd him.
Flu.
I say, I will make him eat some part of my
leek; or I will peat his pate four days:—Pite, I pray
you; it is goot for your green wound, and your
ploddy coxcomb.
Pist.
Must I bite?
Flu.
Yes, certainly; and out of doubt, and out
of questions too, and ambiguities.
Pist.
By this leek, I will most horribly revenge; 6 note
I
eat, and eat, I swear.
Flu.
Eat, I pray you: Will you have some more
sauce to your leek? there is not enough leek to swear
by.
Pist.
Quiet thy cudgel; thou dost see, I eat.
Flu.
Much goot do you, scald knave, heartily.
Nay, pray you, throw none away; the skin is goot for
your proken coxcomb. When you take occasions to
see leeks hereafter, I pray you, mock at them; that
is all.
Pist.
Good.
Flu.
Ay, leeks is goot:—Hold you, there is a groat
to heal your pate.
Pist.
Me a groat!
Flu.
Yes, verily, and in truth, you shall take it;
-- 155 --
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. Got be wi' 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,—begun upon
an honourable respect, and worn as a memorable
trophy of predeceas'd valour,—and dare not avouch
in your deeds any of your words? I have seen you
gleeking7 note
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 cudgel: you find it otherwise;
and, henceforth, let a Welsh correction teach you a
good English condition. Fare ye well.
[Exit.
Pist.
8 noteDoth fortune play the huswife with me now?
9 note
News have I, that my Nell is dead i'the spital
-- 156 --
Of malady of France;
And there my rendezvous is quite cut off.
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 there I'll steal:
And patches will I get unto these cudgell'd scars,
And swear, I got them in the Gallia wars1 note.
[Exit.
SCENE II.
The French court, at Trois in Champaigne.
Enter at one door king Henry, Exeter, Bedford, Warwick, and other lords; at another, the French king, queen Isabel, princess Katharine, the duke of Burgundy, and other French.
K. Henry.
2 note
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)
-- 157 --
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. Isa.
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. Isa.
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 have labour'd
With all my wits, my pains, and strong endeavours,
To bring your most imperial majesties
3 noteUnto this bar and royal interview,
Your mightiness on both parts best 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?
Alas! she hath from France too long been chas'd;
And all her husbandry doth lie on heaps,
Corrupting in its own fertility.
-- 158 --
4 note
Her vine, the merry chearer of the heart,
Unpruned dies: her hedges even-pleach'd,
5 noteLike prisoners wildly over-grown with hair,
Put forth disorder'd twigs: her fallow leas
The darnel, hemlock, and rank fumitory,
Doth root upon; while that the coulter rusts,
That should deracinate6 note
such savag'ry:
The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth
The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover,
Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank,
Conceives by idleness; and nothing teems,
But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs,
Losing both beauty and utility.
And as our vineyards, fallows, meads, and hedges,
7 noteDefective in their natures, grow to wildness;
Even so our houses, and ourselves, and children,
Have lost, or do not learn, for want of time,
The sciences that should become our country;
But grow, like savages,—as soldiers will,
-- 159 --
That nothing do but meditate on blood,—
To swearing, and stern looks, 8 note
diffus'd attire,
And every thing that seems unnatural.
Which to reduce into our 9 noteformer favour,
You are assembled: and my speech intreats,
That I may know the let, why gentle peace
Should not expel these inconveniencies,
And bless us with her former qualities.
K. Henry.
If, duke of Burgundy, you would the peace,
Whose want gives growth to the imperfections
Which you have cited, you must buy that peace
With full accord to all our just demands;
Whose tenours and particular effects
You have, enschedul'd briefly, in your hands.
Bur.
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
To appoint some of your council presently
To sit with us once more, with better heed
To re-survey them, 1 note
we will, suddenly,
Pass, or accept, and peremptory answer.
-- 160 --
K. Henry.
Brother, we shall.—Go, uncle Exeter,—
And brother Clarence,—and you, brother Gloster,—
Warwick,—and Huntington,—go with the king:
And take with you free power, to ratify,
Augment, or alter, as your wisdoms best
Shall see advantageable for our dignity,
Any thing in, or out of, our demands;
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, Katharine, and a lady.
K. Henry.
Fair Katharine, and most fair2 note
!
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?
-- 161 --
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.
Kath.
Que dit-il? que je suis semblable à les anges?
Lady.
Ouy, vrayment, (sauf vostre grace) ainsi dit il.
K. Henry.
I said so, dear Katharine; and I must
not blush to affirm it.
Kath.
O bon Dieu! les langues des hommes sont pleines
des tromperies.
K. Henry.
What says she, fair one? that the tongues
of men are full of deceits?
Lady.
Ouy; dat de tongues of de mans is be full of
deceits: dat is de princess.
K. Henry.
The princess is the better English-woman.
I'faith, Kate, my wooing is fit for thy understanding:
I am glad, thou canst speak no better English; for, if
thou couldst, thou wouldst find me 3 notesuch a plain king,
that thou wouldst 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: then, if you urge me
-- 162 --
further than to say—Do you in faith? I wear out my
suit. Give me your answer; i'faith, do; and so
clap hands, and a bargain: 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:
for the one, I have neither words nor measure; and for
the other, I have no strength in measure, yet a reasonable
measure in strength. 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. Or,
if I might buffet for my love, or bound my horse for
her favours, I could lay on like a butcher, and sit like
a jack-a-napes, never off: But, before God, Kate, I
cannot look greenly, nor gasp out my eloquence, nor
I have no cunning in protestation; only downright
oaths, which I never use 'till urg'd, nor never break
for urging. If thou canst love a fellow of this temper,
Kate, whose face is not worth sun-burning, that
never looks in his glass for love of any thing he sees
there, let thine eye be thy cook. I speak to thee
plain soldier: If thou canst love me for this, take me:
if not, to say to thee—that I shall die, 'tis true;
but—for thy love, by the Lord, no; yet I love thee
too. And while thou liv'st, dear Kate, 4 note
take a fellow
of plain and uncoined constancy; for he perforce
must do thee right, because he hath not the
gift to woo in other places: for these fellows of infinite
tongue, that can rhime themselves into ladies'
favours,—they do always reason themselves out again.
-- 163 --
What! a speaker is but a prater; a rhyme is but a
ballad. A good leg will fall; a straight back will
stoop; a black beard will turn white; a curl'd pate
will grow bald; a fair face will wither; a full eye
will wax hollow: 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 his
course truly. If thou would have such a one, take
me: And take me, take a soldier; take a soldier,
take a king: And what say'st thou then to my love?
speak, my fair, and fairly, I pray thee.
Kath.
Is it possible dat I should love the enemy of
France5 note
?
K. Henry.
No; it is not possible, that you should
love the enemy of France, Kate: but, in loving me,
you should 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.
Kath.
I cannot tell vat is dat.
K. Henry.
No, Kate? I will tell thee in French;
which, I am sure, will hang upon my tongue6 note
like a
new-married wife about her husband's neck, hardly
to be shook off. Quand j'ay la possession de France, &
quand vous avez le possession de moi, (let me see, what
then? Saint Dennis be my speed!)—donc vostre est
France, & vous estes mienne. It is as easy for me, Kate,
to conquer the kingdom, as to speak so much more
French: I shall never move thee in French, unless it
be to laugh at me.
-- 164 --
Kath.
Sauf vostre honneur, le François que vous parlez,
est meilleur que l' Anglois lequel je parle.
K. Henry.
No, faith, is't not, Kate: but thy speaking
of my tongue, and I thine, most truly falsely,
must needs be granted to be much at one. But,
Kate, dost thou understand thus much English?
Canst thou love me?
Kath.
I cannot tell.
K. Henry.
Can any of your neighbours tell, Kate?
I'll ask them. Come, I know, thou lovest me: and
at night when you come into your closet, you'll question
this gentlewoman about me; and I know, Kate,
you will, to her, dispraise those parts in me, that you
love with your heart: but, good Kate, mock me mercifully;
the rather, gentle princess, because I love
thee cruelly. If ever thou be'st mine, Kate, (as I
have saving faith within me, tells me—thou shalt) I
get thee with scambling7 note
, and thou must therefore
needs prove a good soldier-breeder: Shall not thou
and I, between saint Dennis and saint George, compound
a boy, half French, half English, that shall
8 notego to Constantinople, and take the Turk by the
beard? shall we not? what say'st thou, my fair flower-de-luce?
Kath.
I do not know dat.
K. Henry.
No; 'tis hereafter to know, but now to
promise: do but now promise, Kate, you will endeavour
for your French part of such a boy; and, for
-- 165 --
my English moiety, take the word of a king and a
batchelor. How answer you, la plus belle Katharine
du monde, mon tres chere & divine deesse?
Kath.
Your majesté 'ave fausse French enough to
deceive de most sage damoiselle dat is en France.
K. Henry.
Now, fie upon my false French! 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,
notwithstanding the 9 note
poor and untempering effect of
my visage. Now beshrew my father's ambition! he
was thinking of civil wars when he got me; therefore
was I created with a stubborn outside, with an aspect
of iron, that, when I come to woo ladies, I fright
them. But, in faith, Kate, the elder I wax, the
better I shall appear: my comfort is, that old age,
that ill layer-up of beauty, can do no more spoil upon
my face: thou hast me, if thou hast me, at the
worst; and thou shalt wear me, if thou wear me,
better and better; And therefore tell me, most fair
Katharine, will you have me? Put off your maiden
blushes; avouch the thoughts of your heart with the
looks of an empress; take me by the hand, and
say—Harry of England, I am thine: which word
thou shalt no sooner bless mine ear withal, but I will
tell thee aloud—England is thine, Ireland is thine,
France is thine, and Henry Plantagenet is thine;
-- 166 --
who, though I speak it before his face, if he be not
fellow with the best king, thou shalt find the best king
of good-fellows. Come, your answer in broken music;
for thy voice is music, and thy English broken:
therefore, queen of all, Katharine, break thy mind
to me in broken English, Wilt thou have me?
Kath.
Dat is, as it shall please de 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 I call
you—my queen.
Kath.
Laissez, mon seigneur, laissez, laissez: ma foy,
je ne veux point que vous abbaissez vostre grandeur, en
baisant la main d'une vostre indigne serviteure; excusez
moy, je vous supplie, mon tres puissant seigneur.
K. Henry.
Then I will kiss your lips. Kate.
Kath.
Les dames, & damoselles, pour estre baiseés devant
leur nopces, il n'est pas le coûtume de France.
K. Henry.
Madam my interpreter, what says she?
Lady.
Dat it is not be de fashion pour de ladies of
France,—I cannot tell what is, baiser, en English.
K. Henry.
To kiss.
Lady.
Your majesty entendre bettre que moy.
K. Henry.
It is not a fashion for the maids in France
to kiss before they are married, would she say?
Lady.
Ouy, vrayment.
K. Henry.
O, Kate, nice customs curt'sy to great
kings. Dear Kate, you and I cannot be confin'd
within the weak list of a country's fashion: we are
the makers of manners, Kate; and the liberty, that
follows our places, stops the mouth of all find-faults;
as I will do yours, for upholding the nice fashion
of your country, in denying me a kiss: therefore, patiently,
and yielding—[kissing her.] You have witchcraft
in your lips, Kate: there is more eloquence in
a sugar touch of them, than in the tongues of the
-- 167 --
French council; and they should sooner 1 note
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.
God 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 not apt?
K. Henry.
Our tongue is rough, coz'; and my condition
is not smooth 2 note
: 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.
Burg.
3 notePardon the frankness of my mirth, if I answer
you for that. If you would conjure in her, you
must make a circle: if conjure up love in her in his
true likeness, he must appear naked, and blind: Can
you blame her then, being a maid yet rosy'd over
with the virgin crimson of modesty, if she deny the
appearance of a naked blind boy in her naked seeing
self? It were, my lord, a hard condition for a maid
to consign to.
K. Henry.
Yet they do wink, and yield; as love is
blind, and enforces.
-- 168 --
Burg.
They are then excus'd, my lord, when they
see not what they do.
K. Henry.
Then, good my lord, teach your cousin
to consent to winking.
Burg.
I will wink on her to consent, my lord, if
you will teach her to know my meaning: for maids,
well summer'd and warm kept, are like flies at Bartholomew-tide,
blind, though they have their eyes; and
then they will endure handling, which before would
not abide looking on.
K. Henry.
4 noteThis moral ties me over to time, and a
hot summer; and so I shall catch the fly, your cousin,
in the latter end, and she must be blind too.
Burg.
As love is, my lord, before it loves.
K. Henry.
It is so: and you may, some of you,
thank love for my blindness; who cannot see many
a fair French city, for one fair French maid that
stands in my way.
Fr. King.
Yes, my lord, you see them perspectively,
the cities turn'd into a maid; for they are all girdled
with maiden walls, that war hath never enter'd.
K. Henry.
Shall Kate be my wife?
Fr. King.
So please you.
K. Henry.
I am content; so the maiden cities you
talk of, may wait on her: so the maid, that stood in
the way for my wish, shall shew me the way to my
will.
Fr. King.
We have consented to all terms of reason.
K. Henry.
Is't so, my lords of England?
West.
The king hath granted every article:
His daughter, first; and then in sequel all,
According to their firm proposed natures.
Exe.
Only, he hath not yet subscribed this:—
Where your majesty demands,—That the king of
France, having any occasion to write for matter of
-- 169 --
grant, shall name your highness in this form, and
with this addition, in French:—5 note
Notre tres cher filz
Henry roy d' Angleterre, heretier de France: and thus in
Latin,—Præclarissimus filius 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 her blood raise up
Issue to me: that the contending kingdoms
Of France and England, whose very shores look pale
With envy of each other's happiness,
May cease their hatred; and this dear conjunction
Plant neighbourhood and christian-like accord
In their sweet bosoms, that never war advance
His bleeding sword 'twixt England and fair France.
All.
Amen!
K. Henry.
Now welcome, Kate:—and bear me witness all,
That here I kiss her as my sovereign queen.
[Flourish.
Q. Isa.
God, the best maker of all marriages,
Combine your hearts in one, your realms in one!
As man and wife, being two, are one in love,
So be there 'twixt your kingdoms such a spousal,
That never may ill office, or fell jealousy,
Which troubles oft the bed of blessed marriage,
6 noteThrust in between the paction of these kingdoms,
-- 170 --
To make divorce of their incorporate league;
That English may as French, French Englishmen,
Receive each other!—God speak this Amen!
All.
Amen!
K. Henry.
7 note
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 leagues.—
Then shall I swear to Kate,—and you to me;—
And may our oaths well kept and prosp'rous be!
[Exeunt.
Enter Chorus.
Thus far, with rough, and all unable pen,
8 note
Our bending author hath pursu'd the story;
In little room confining mighty men,
9 noteMangling by starts the full course of their glory.
-- 171 --
Small time, but, in that small, most greatly liv'd
This star of England: fortune made his sword;
By which the world's best garden he atchiev'd,
And of it left his son imperial lord.
Henry the sixth, in infant bands crown'd king
Of France and England, did this king succeed;
Whose state so many had the managing,
That they lost France, and made his England bleed:
Which oft our stage hath shown; and, for their sake,
In your fair minds let this acceptance take1.
