L.H.
Will.
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?
-- 57 --
K. Hen.
A friend.
[Comes down, R.
Will.
Under what captain serve you?
K. Hen.
Under Sir Thomas Erpingham.
Will.
A good old commander, and a most kind gentleman:
I pray you, what thinks he of our estate?
K. Hen.
Even as men wrecked upon a sand, that look to
be washed off the next tide.
Bates. (L.)
He hath not told his thought to the king?
K. Hen.
No; nor it is not meet he should. (Crosses to centre.)
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 shows to him as it doth to me; all his
senses have but human conditions:7 note 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 showing it, should dishearten his army.
Bates.
He may show 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. Hen. (C.)
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. (L.)
Then 'would he were here alone; so should he
be sure to be ransomed, and a many poor men's lives saved.
K. Hen.
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.8 note
Will. (R.)
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
-- 58 --
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 rekoning to make, when all those legs and
arms and heads, chopped off in battle, shall join together
at the latter day,9 note and cry all—We died at such place;
some swearing; some crying for a surgeon; some, upon
their wives left poor behind them; some, upon the debts
they owe; some, upon their children rawly left.10 note I am
afeard there are few die well that die in battle; for how
can they charitably dispose of any thing, when blood is
their argument? Now, if these men do not die well, it
will be a black matter for the king that led them to it;
whom to disobey were against all proportion of subjection.
K. Hen.
So, if a son, that is by his father sent about
merchandise, do sinfully miscarry upon the sea, the imputation
of his wickedness, by your rule, should be imposed
upon his father that sent him:—But this is not so: the
king is not bound to answer the particular endings of his
soldiers, nor the father of his son, for they purpose not their
death, when they purpose their services. Every subject's
duty is the king's; but every subject's soul is his own.
Therefore should every soldier in the wars do as every
sick man in his bed, wash every mote 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.
Will.
'Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the ill is upon
his own head; the king is not to answer for it.
Bates.
I do not desire he should answer for me; and yet
I determine to fight lustily for him.
K. Hen.
I myself heard the king say he would not be
ransomed.
Will.
Ay, he said so, to make us fight cheerfully: but,
when our throats are cut, he may be ransomed, and we ne'er
the wiser.
K. Hen.
If I live to see it, I will never trust his word after.
-- 59 --
Will.
That'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. Hen.
Your reproof is something too round:11 note I should
be angry with you, if the time were convenient.
Will.
Let it be a quarrel between us, if you live.
K. Hen.
I embrace it.
Will.
How shall I know thee again?
K. Hen.
Give me any gage of thine, and I will wear it in
my bonnet: then, if ever thou darest acknowledge it, I will
make it my quarrel.
Will.
Here's my glove: give me another of thine.
K. Hen.
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. Hen.
If ever I live to see it, I will challenge it.
Will.
Thou darest as well be hanged.
K. Hen.
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: (Crosses
to Williams, R.) we have French quarrels enough, if
you could tell how to reckon.
[Exeunt Soldiers, R.H.
K. Hen.
Upon the king! let us our lives, our souls,
Our sins, lay on the king!—we must bear all.
O hard condition, twin-born with greatness,
Subjécted to the breath of every fool.
What infinite heart's ease must king's 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?
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.
-- 60 --
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!
Canst 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 sceptre, and the ball,
The sword, the mace, the crown imperial,
The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp
That beats upon the high shore of this world,
No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous ceremony,
Not all these, laid in bed majestical,
Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave,
Who, with a body fill'd and vacant mind,
Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread;
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.
Enter Erpingham, R.H.
Erp.
My lord, your nobles, jealous of your absence,
Seek through your camp to find you.
K. Hen.
Good old knight,
Collect them all together at my tent:
I'll be before thee.
[Gives back the Cloak to Erpingham.
Erp.
I shall do't, my lord.
[Exit, R.H.
K. Hen.
O God of battles! steel my soldier's hearts;
Possess them not with fear; take from them now
The sense of reckoning, lest 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;(C)8Q0072
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:
More will I do—
[Trumpet sounds without, R.
The day, my friends, and all things stay for me.
[Exit, R.H.
-- 61 --
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].
