Welcome to PhiloLogic  
   home |  the ARTFL project |  download |  documentation |  sample databases |   
Edward Capell [1767], Mr William Shakespeare his comedies, histories, and tragedies, set out by himself in quarto, or by the Players his Fellows in folio, and now faithfully republish'd from those Editions in ten Volumes octavo; with an introduction: Whereunto will be added, in some other Volumes, notes, critical and explanatory, and a Body of Various Readings entire (Printed by Dryden Leach, for J. and R. Tonson [etc.], London) [word count] [S10601].
To look up a word in a dictionary, select the word with your mouse and press 'd' on your keyboard.

Previous section

Next section

SCENE VI. Camp of the English Forces in Picardy. Enter Gower, and Fluellen, meeting.

Gow.

How now, captain Fluellen? come you from the bridge?

Flu.

I assure you, there is very excellent service note 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 note love and honour with my soul, and my heart, and my duty, and my life note, and my livings note, and my uttermost powers: he is not (Got be praised and blessed!) 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 note service.

Gow.

What do note you call him?

Flu.

He is call'd—ancient note Pistol.

Gow.

I know him not.

Enter Pistol.

Flu.

Do you not know him? Here comes the man. note

Pis.
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.

Pis.
Bardolph, a soldier, firm and sound of heart,
Of note buxom valour, hath,—by cruel fate,
And giddy fortune's furious fickle wheel,
That goddess blind,
That stands upon the rowling restless stone,—

-- 51 --

Flu.

By your patience, ancient Pistol. Fortune is painted plind, with a muffler afore her eyes 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, note note and mutabilities: and her foot, look you, is fixed upon a spherical stone, which rowls, and rowls, and rowls;— Surely, the poet is make an excellent description of fortune; fortune, look you, is an excellent moral. note

Pis.
Fortune is Bardolph's foe, and frowns on him;
For he hath stoln a pax,14Q0749 and hanged must 'a be note.
Damn'd death note!
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 pax of little price note.
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:

Pis.

Why then rejoice therefóre.

Flu.

Certainly, ancient, it is not a thing to rejoice at: for if, look you, he were my prother, I would desire the duke to use his goot pleasure, and put him to executions; for disciplines note ought to be used.

Pis.

Die, and be damn'd; and figo for thy friendship!

Flu.

It is well.

Pis.

The fig of Spain!

[Exit Pistol.

Flu.

Very good.

Gow.

Why, this is an arrant counterfeit rascal; I

-- 52 --

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 note 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 note London, under the form of a soldier. And such fellows are perfect in great note commanders' names: and they will learn you by rote, where services were done;— at such and such a sconce, at such a breach, at such a convoy; who came off bravely, who was shot, who disgraced, what terms the enemy stood on; and this they con perfectly in phrase note of war, which they trick up with new-tuned note oaths: And what a beard of the general's cut, and a horrid shout of note the camp, will do among foming bottles, and ale-wash'd wits, is wonderful to be thought on! But you must learn to know such 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. [Drum heard.] Hark you, the king is coming; and I must speak with him from the pridge.

Enter King Henry, and Forces; Gloster, and Others with him.

Got pless your majesty!

Kin.

How now, Fluellen? camest 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

-- 53 --

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.

Kin.

What men have you lost, Fluellen?

Flu.

The perdition note of th'athversary hath been very great, reasonable great: marry, for my part, I think the duke hath lost note never a man, but one that is like to be executed for robbing a church, one Bardolph, if your majesty know the man: his face is all pupuncles, and whelks, and knobs, and flames of fire; and his lips plows at his nose, and it is like a coal of fire, sometimes plew, and sometimes red; but his nose is executed, and his fire's out.

Kin.

We would have all such offenders so cut off:— and we give express charge, that, in our marches through the country, there be nothing compell'd from the villages, nothing taken but pay'd for; none of the French upbraided, or abused in disdainful language; For, when lenity note and cruelty play for a kingdom, the gentler gamester is the soonest note winner.

Tucket. Enter Montjoy.

Mon.

You know me by my habit.

Kin.

Well then, I know thee; What shall I know of thee?

Mon.

My master's mind.

Kin.

Unfold it.

Mon.

Thus says my king;—Say thou to Harry of England, Though we seem'd 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 upon our cue, and our voice is

-- 54 --

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 born, 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 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 pronounc'd. So far my king and master; so much my office.

Kin.
What is thy name? I know thy quality.

Mon.
Montjoy.

Kin.
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: 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 enfeebl'd;
My numbers lessen'd; and those few I have,
Almost no better than so many French;
Who when they were in health, note 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;

-- 55 --


Yet, God before, tell him we note will come on,
Though France himself, and such another neighbour,
Stand in our way. There's &dagger2; 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: 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.

Mon.
I shall deliver so. Thanks to your highness note. [Exit Montjoy.

Glo.
I hope, they will not come upon us now.

Kin.
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.
Previous section

Next section


Edward Capell [1767], Mr William Shakespeare his comedies, histories, and tragedies, set out by himself in quarto, or by the Players his Fellows in folio, and now faithfully republish'd from those Editions in ten Volumes octavo; with an introduction: Whereunto will be added, in some other Volumes, notes, critical and explanatory, and a Body of Various Readings entire (Printed by Dryden Leach, for J. and R. Tonson [etc.], London) [word count] [S10601].
Powered by PhiloLogic