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 --
Samuel Johnson [1778], The plays of William Shakspeare. In ten volumes. With the corrections and illustrations of various commentators; to which are added notes by Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. The second edition, Revised and Augmented (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10901].
