Williams.
Cou.
Brother John Bates, is not that the morning,
which breaks yonder?
Bat.
I think, it be: but we have no great cause to
desire the approach of day.
Wil.
We see yonder the beginning of the day, but,
I think, we shall never see the end of it.—Who goes
there?
Kin.
A friend.
Wil.
Under what captain serve you?
Kin.
Under sir Thomas note Erpingham.
Wil.
A good old commander, and a most kind gentleman:
I pray you, what thinks he of our estate?
Kin.
Even as men wreck'd upon a sand, that look
to be wash'd off the next tide.
Bat.
He hath not told his thought to the king?
Kin.
No; nor it is not meet, he should. 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
shews to him, as it doth to me; all his senses have
but human conditions: his ceremonies lay'd by, in his
nakedness he appears but a man; and though his affections
are higher mounted than ours, yet, when they
stoop, they stoop with the like wing; therefore when
-- 66 --
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 shewing it, should dishearten his army.
Bat.
He may shew what outward courage he will:
but, I believe, as cold a night as 'tis, he could wish himself
in Thames up to the neck; and so I would he were,
and I by him, at all adventures, so we were quit here.
Kin.
By my troth, I will speak my conscience of the
king; I think, he would not wish himself any where,
but where he is.
Bat.
Then, 'would note he were here alone; so should
he be sure to be ransomed, and a many poor men's lives
saved.
Kin.
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 honorable.
Wil.
That's more than we know.
Bat.
Ay, or more than we should seek after; for we
know enough, if we know we are the king's subjects:
if his cause be wrong, our obedience to the king wipes
the crime of it out of us.
Wil.
But, if the cause be not good, the king himself
hath a heavy reck'ning to make; when all those legs,
and arms, and heads, chopt off in a battle, shall join
together at the latter day, and cry all—We dy'd at such
a 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: I am afeard, there are few die well, that
-- 67 --
die in a battle note; 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 note disobey, were against
all proportion of subjection.
Kin.
So, if a son,14Q0752 that is by his father sent about
merchandize, do sinfully miscarry upon the sea, the imputation
of his wickedness, by your rule, should be imposed
upon his father that sent him: or if a servant,
under his master's command, transporting a sum of money,
be assail'd by robbers, and die in many irreconcil'd
iniquities, you may call the business of the master the
author of the servant's damnation: But this is not so:
the king is not bound to answer the particular endings
of his soldiers, the father of his son, nor the master of
his servant; for they purpose not their death, when
they purpose their services. Besides, there is no king,
be his cause never so spotless, if it come to the arbitrement
of swords, can try it out with all unspotted soldiers:
some, peradventure, have on them the guilt of
premeditated and contrived murther; some, of beguiling
virgins with the broken seals of perjury; some, making
the wars their bulwark, that have before gored the
gentle bosom of peace with pillage and robbery: Now,
if these men have defeated the law, and out-run native
punishment, though they can out-strip men, they have
no wings to fly from God: war is his beadle, war is
his vengeance; so that here men are punish'd, for before-breach
of the king's laws, in now the king's quarrel:
where they feared the death, they have born life
away; and where they would be safe, they perish:
then if they die unprovided, no more is the king guilty
-- 68 --
of their damnation, than he was before guilty of those
impieties for the which they are now visited. 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 moth 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: and, in him that
escapes, it were not sin to think, that, making God
so free an offer, he let him out-live that day, to see his
greatness, and to teach others how they should prepare.
Wil.
'Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the ill
upon his own head, the king is not to answer it. note
Bat.
I do not desire he should answer for me; and
yet I determine to fight lustily for him.
Kin.
I myself heard the king say, he would not be
ransom'd.
Wil.
Ay, he said so, to make us fight chearfully:
but, when our throats are cut, he may be ransom'd, and
we ne'er the wiser.
Kin.
If I live to see it, I will never trust his word after.
Wil.
You pay him then! that's a perilous shot out
of an elder gun, that a poor and a private displeasure
can do against a monarch&dotup; 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.
Kin.
Your reproof is something too round; I should
be angry with you, if the time were convenient.
Wil.
Let it be a quarrel between us, if you live.
Kin.
I embrace it.
Wil.
How shall I know thee again?
-- 69 --
Kin.
Give me any gage of thine, and I will wear
it in my bonnet: then, if ever thou dar'st acknowledge
it, I will make it my quarrel.
Wil.
Here's my &dagger2; glove; give me another of thine.
Kin.
There &dagger2;.
Wil.
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.
Kin.
If ever I live to see it, I will challenge it.
Wil.
Thou dar'st as well be hang'd.
Kin.
Well, I will do it, though I take thee in the
king's company.
Wil.
Keep thy word: fare thee well.
Bat.
Be friends, you English fools, be friends; we
have French quarrels enough, if you could tell how to
reckon.
Kin.
Indeed, the French may lay twenty French
crowns to one, they will beat us; for they bear them
on their shoulders: But it is no English treason, to cut
French crowns; and, to-morrow, the king himself will
be a clipper.
[Exeunt Soldiers.
Upon the king! let us our lives, our souls,
Our debts, our careful wives, our children, and
Our sins, lay on the king;—we must bear all.
O hard condition! twin-born with greatness,
Subjected to the breath of every fool,
Whose sense no more can feel but his own wringing!
What infinite heart's-ease must kings 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?
-- 70 --
What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st more
Of mortal griefs, than do thy worshippers?
What are thy rents,14Q0753 what are thy comings-in,
O ceremony,—shew me but thy worth,—
What is thy roul note of adoration note?
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.
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!
Think'st note thou, the fiery fever will go out
With titles blown from adulation?
Will it note give place to flexure and low bending?
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 scepter, and the ball,
The sword, the mace, the crown imperial,
The enter-tissu'd robe of gold and pearl,
The farsed title running 'fore the king,
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, note
Not all these, lay'd in bed majestical,
Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave;
Who, with a body fill'd, and vacant mind,
Gets him to rest, cram'd with distressful bread;
Never sees horrid night, the child of hell;
But, like a lacquey, from the rise to set,
-- 71 --
Sweats in the eye of Phœbus, and all night
Sleeps in Elysium; next day, after dawn,
Doth rise, and help Hyperion note to his horse;
And follows so the ever-running year,
With profitable labour, to his grave:
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.
The slave, a member of the country's peace,
Enjoys it; but in gross brain little wots,
What watch the king keeps to maintain the peace,
Whose hours the peasant best advantages.
Enter Erpingham.
Erp.
My lord, your nobles, jealous of your absence,
Seek through your camp to find you.
Kin.
Good old knight,
Collect them all together at my tent:
I'll be before thee.
Erp.
I shall do't, my lord.
[Exit.
Kin.
O God of battles, steel my soldiers' hearts!
Possess them not with fear; take from them now
The sense of reck'ning, lest the opposed note 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;
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; and I have built
Two chantries, where the sad and solemn priests
-- 72 --
Sing still for Richard's soul. More will I do:
Though all that I can do, is nothing worth;
Since that my penitence comes after all,
Imploring pardon.
Enter Gloster .
Glo.
My liege!
Kin.
My brother Gloster's voice.—
I know thy errand, I will go with thee:—
The day, my friends note, and all things stay for me.
[Exeunt.
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].
