R.H.
Flu.
Do you not know him? Here comes the man.
-- 46 --
Pist.
Captain, I thee beseech to do me favours:
The Duke of Exeter doth love thee well.
Flu.
Ay, I praise Heaven; and I have merited some love
at his hands.
Pist.
Bardolph, a soldier, firm and sound of heart,
Of buxom valour,6 note hath,—by cruel fate,
And giddy fortune's furious fickle wheel,
That goddess blind,
That stands upon the rolling restless stone,—7 note
Flu.
By your patience, ancient Pistol. Fortune is painted
plind, with a muffler before her eyes,8 note to signify to you
that fortune is plind; And she is painted also with a wheel,
to signify to you, which is the moral of it, that she is turning,
and inconstant, and variations, and mutabilities: 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;
For he has stolen a pix,9 note and hang'd must 'a be.(B)8Q0068
A damned death!
Let gallows gape for dog; let man go free,
[Crosses to L.H.
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.
[Crosses to R.H.
Flu.
Ancient Pistol, I do partly understand your meaning.
Pist.
Why, then, rejoice therefore.
Flu.
Certainly, ancient, it is not a thing to rejoice at:
for if, look you, he were my prother, I would desire the
-- 47 --
duke to use his goot pleasure, and put him to executions;
for disciplines ought to be used.
Pist.
Fico for thy friendship!10 note
Flu.
It is well.
Pist.
The fig of Spain!11 note
[Exit Pistol, R.H.
Flu.
Very goot.
Gow.
Why, this is an arrant counterfeit rascal; a cut-purse;
I remember him now;
Flu.
I'll assure you, 'a utter'd as prave 'ords at the
pridge as you shall see in a summer's day.
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. You must learn to
know such slanders of the age,12 note 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 show to the 'orld
he is: if I find a hole in his coat, I will tell him my mind.
[March heard.] Hark you, the king is coming; and I must
speak with him from the pridge.13 note
Enter King Henry, Bedford, Gloster, Westmoreland,
Lords, and Soldiers, L.H.U.E.
Flu. (R.)
Heaven pless your majesty!
K. Hen. (C.)
How now, Fluellen! cam'st thou from the
bridge?
Flu.
Ay, so please your majesty. The duke of Exeter
has very gallantly maintained the pridge: the French has
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.
-- 48 --
K. Hen.
What men have you lost, Fluellen?
Flu.
The perdition of th'athversary hath been very great,
very reasonable great: marry, for my part, I think the duke
hath lost never a man, but one that is like to be executed
for robbing a church, one Bardolph, if your majesty knows
the man: his face is all bubukles,14 note and whelks,15 note and knobs,
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 his fire's out.16 note
K. Hen.
We would have all such offenders so cut off.
[Trumpet sounds without, R.
Enter Montjoy and Attendants, R.H.
Mont. (uncovers and kneels.)
You know me by my habit.17 note
K. Hen.
Well, then, I know thee: What shall I know of thee?
Mont.
My master's mind.
K. Hen.
Unfold it.
Mont.
Thus says my king:—Say thou to Harry of
England: Though we seemed dead, we did but sleep. Tell
him, he shall repent his folly, see his weakness, and admire
our sufferance.18 note 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. For
our losses, his exchequer is too poor; for the effusion of 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 betrayed his followers,
whose condemnation is pronounced. So far my king and
master; so much my office.
K. Hen.
What is thy name? I know thy quality.
Mont.
Montjoy.
-- 49 --
K. Hen.
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:19 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.—Forgive me, Heaven,
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, Heaven before,20 note tell him we will come on,
Though France himself,21 note and such another neighbour,
Stand in our way. There's for thy labour, Montjoy.
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:(C)8Q0069 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. (Montjoy rises from his knee.) Thanks to your highness.
[Exit Montjoy with Attendants , R.H.
Glo.
I hope they will not come upon us now.
K. Hen.
We are in Heaven'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, R.H.
March.
END OF ACT THIRD.
-- 50 --
Charles Kean [1859], Shakespeare's play of King Henry the Fifth, arranged for representation at the Princess's Theatre, with historical and explanatory notes, by Charles Kean, F.S.A., as first performed On Monday, March 28th, 1859 (Printed by John K. Chapman and Co. [etc.], London) [word count] [S35800].
