Go.
How now Captain Flewellen, come you fr&obar; the bridge?

Flew.
By Iesus thers excell&ebar;t seruice c&obar;mitted at &ye; bridge.

Gour.
Is the Duke of Exeter safe?

Flew.
The duke of Exeter is a m&abar; whom I loue, & I honor,
And I worship, with my soule, and my heart, and my life,
And my lands and my liuings,
And my vttermost powers.
The Duke is looke you,
God be praised and pleased for it, no harme in the worell.

He is maintain the bridge very ^note gallently: there is an Ensigne

There, I do not know you call him, but by Iesus ^note I think He is as valient a man ^note as Marke Anthonie, he doth maintain the bridge most gallantly: yet he is a man of no reckoning: But I did see him do gallant seruice.

Gouer.

How do you call him?

Flew.

His name is ancient Pistoll.

Gouer.

I know him not.

Flew.
Do you not know him, here comes the man.

Pist.
Captaine, I thee beseech to do me fauour,
The Duke of Exeter doth loue thee well.

Flew.
I, and I praise God I haue merrited some loue at his hands.

Pist.
Bardolfe a souldier, one of buxsome valour,
Hath by furious fate
And giddy Fortunes fickle wheele,
That Godes ^note blinde that stands vpon the rowling restlesse stone.

Flew.
By your patience ancient Pistoll,
Fortune, looke you is painted,
Plind with a mufler before her eyes,
To signifie to you, that Fortune is plind:
And she is moreouer painted with a wheele,
Which is the morall that Fortune is turning,
And inconstant, and variation; and mutabilities:
And her fate is fixed at a sphericall stone
Which roules, and roules, and roules:
Surely the Poet is make an excell&ebar;t descripti&obar; of Fortune.
Fortune looke you is and ^note excellent morall.

Pist.
Fortune is Bardolfes foe, and frownes on him,
For he hath stolne a packs, and hanged ^note must he be:
A damned death, let gallowes gape for dogs,
Let man go free, and let not death his windpipe stop.
But Exeter hath giuen the doome of death,
For packs of pettie price:
Therefore go speake, the Duke will heare thy voyce,
And let not Bardolfes vitall threed be cut,
With edge of penny cord, and vile approach.
Speake Captaine for his life, and I will thee requite.

Flew.
Captain Pistoll, I partly vnderstand your meaning.

Pist.
Why then reioyce therefore.

Flew.
Certainly Antient Pistol, tis not a thing to reioyce at,
For if he were my owne brother, I would wish the Duke
To do his pleasure, and put him to executions: for look you,
Disciplines ought to be kept, they ought to be kept.

Pist.
Die and be damned, and figa ^note for thy friendship.

Flew.
That is good.

Pist.
The figge of Spaine within thy Iawe.

Flew.
That is very well.

Pist.
I say the fig within thy bowels and thy durty maw. Exit Pistoll.

Fle.
Captaine Gour, cannot you hear it lighten & thunder?

Gour.
Why is this the Ancient you told me of?
I remember him now, he is a bawd, a cutpurse.

Flew.
By Iesus hee is vtter as praue words vpon the bridge
As you shall desire to see in a sommers day, but its all one,
What he hath sed to me,
looke you, is all one.

Go.
Why this is a gull, a foole, a rogue that goes to the wars
Onely to grace himselfe at his returne to London:
And such fellowes as he,
Are perfect in great Commaunders names.
They will learne by rote where seruices were done,
At such and such a sconce, at such a breach,
  At such a conuoy: who came off brauely, who was shot,
Who disgraced, what termes the enemie stood on.
And this they con ^note perfectly in phrase of warre,
Which they trick vp with new tuned oathes, & what a berd
Of the Generalls cut, and a horid shout of the campe
Will do among the foming bottles and alewasht wits
Is wonderfull to be thought on: but you must learne
To know such slaunders of this age,
Or else you may maruellously be mistooke.

Flew.
Certain captain Gower, it is not the man, looke you,
That I did take him to be: but when time shall serue,
I shall tell him a litle of my desires: here comes his Maiestie. Enter King, Clarence, Gloster and others.

King.
How now Flewellen, come you from the bridge?

Flew.
I and it shall please your Maiestie,
There is excellent seruice at the bridge.

King.
What men haue you lost Flewellen?

Flew.
And it shall please your Maiestie,
The partition of the aduersarie hath bene great,
Very reasonably great: but for our own parts, like you now ^note,
I thinke we haue lost neuer a man, vnlesse it be one
For robbing of a church, one Bardolfe, if your Maiestie
Know the man, his face is full of whelkes and knubs,
And pumples, and his breath blowes at his nose
Like a cole, sometimes red, sometimes plew:
But god be praised, now his nose is executed, & his fire out.

King.
We would haue all offenders so cut off,
And we here ^note giue expresse commaundment,
That there be nothing taken from the villages but paid for,
None of the French abused,
Or abraided ^note with disdainfull language:
For when cruelty and lenitie play for a Kingdome,
The gentlest gamester is the sooner winner. Enter French Herauld.

Hera.
You know me by my habit.

Ki.
Well th&ebar;, we know thee, what shuld we know of thee?

Hera.
My maisters minde.

King.
Vnfold it.

Heral.
Go thee vnto Harry of England, and tell him,
Aduantage is a better souldier then rashnesse:
Altho we did seeme dead, we did but slumber.
Now we speake vpon our kue, and our voyce is imperiall,
England shall repent her folly ^note: see her rashnesse,
And admire our sufferance. Which to raunsome,
His pettinesse would bow vnder:
For the effusion of our blood, his army is too weake:
For the disgrace we haue borne, himselfe
Kneeling at our feete, a weake and worthlesse satisfaction.
To this, adde defyance. So much from the king my maister.

King.
What is thy name? we know thy qualitie.

Herald.
Montioy.

King.
Thou dost thy office faire, returne thee backe,
And tell thy ^note King, I do not seeke him now:
But could be well content, without impeach,
To march on to Callis: for to say the sooth,
Though tis no wisdome to confesse so much
Vnto an enemie of craft and vantage.

My souldiers are with sicknesse much infeebled,
My Army lessoned ^note, and those few I haue,
Almost no better then so many French:
Who when they were in heart, I tell thee Herauld,
I thought vpon one paire of English legges,
Did march three French mens.
Yet forgiue me God ^note, that I do brag thus:
Your heire ^note of France hath blowne this vice in me.
I must repent, go tell thy maister here I am,
My raunsome is this frayle and worthlesse body,
My Army but a weake and sickly guarde.
Yet God before, we will come on,
If France and such an other neighbour stood in our way:
If we may passe, we will: if we be hindered,
We shal your tawny ground with your red blood discolour.
So Montioy get you gone, there is ^note for your paines:
The sum of all our answere is but this,
We would not seeke a battle as we are:
Nor as we are, we say we will ^note not shun it.

Herauld.
I shall deliuer so: thanks to your Maiestie.

Glos.
My Liege, I hope they will not come vpon vs now.

King.
We are in Gods hand brother, not in theirs:
To night we will encampe beyond the bridge,
And on to morrow bid them march away.

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