Flu.

God pless your Majesty.

K. Henry.

How now, Fluellen, cam'st thou from the bridge?

Flu.

I, 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 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.

K. Henry.

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 know the man: his face is all bubukles, and whelks, and knobs, and flames of fire; and his lips blows 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.

K. Henry.
We would have such offenders so cut off;
And give express charge, that in all our march
There shall be nothing taken from the villages,
But shall be paid for; and no French upbraided,
Or yet abused in disdainful language;
When lenity and cruelty play for kingdoms,
The gentler gamester is the soonest winner. Tucket sounds. Enter Mountjoy.

Mount.
You know me by my habit.

K. Henry.
Well then, I know thee; what shall I know of thee?

Mount.
My master's mind.

K. Henry.
Unfold it.

Mount.
Thus says my King: say thou to Harry England,
Although we seemed dead, we did but sleep:
Advantage is a better soldier than rashness.
Tell him, we could at Harfleur have rebuk'd him;
But that we thought not good to bruise an injury,
'Till it were ripe. Now, speak we on our cue,
With voice imperial: England shall repent
His folly, see his weakness, and admire
Our suff'rance. Bid him therefore to consider,
What must the ransom be, which must proportion
The losses we have borne, the subjects we
Have lost, and the disgrace we have digested;
To answer which, his pettiness would bow under.
First for our loss, too poor is his Exchequer;
For the effusion of our blood, his army
Too faint a number; and for our disgrace,

Ev'n his own person kneeling at our feet
A weak and worthless satisfaction.
To this, defiance add; and for conclusion,
Tell him he hath betray'd his followers,
Whose condemnation is pronounc'd. So far
My King and master; and so much my office.

K. Henry.
What is thy name? I know thy quality.

Mount.
Mountjoy.

K. Henry.
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 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. Yet, forgive me, God,
&wlquo;That I do brag thus; this your air of France
&wlquo;Hath blown that vice in me; I must repent.&wrquo;
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, God before, tell him we will come on,
Though France himself, and such another neighbour,
Stand in our way. There's for thy labour, Mountjoy.
Go, bid thy master well advise himself:
If we may pass, we will; if we be hinder'd,
^{8 note}We shall your tawny ground with your red blood
Discolour; and so, Mountjoy, fare you well.

The sum of all our answer is but this;
We would not seek a battle as we are,
Yet, as we are, we say, we will not shun it:
So tell your master.

Mount.
I shall deliver so: thanks to your Highness. [Exit.

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

K. Henry.
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 our selves;
And on to morrow bid them march away. [Exeunt. 9 ^noteSCENE IX.

The French Camp near Agincourt. Enter the Constable of France, the Lord Rambures, Orleans, Dauphin, with others.

Con.
Tut, I have the best armour of the world.
Would it were day!

Orl.

You have an excellent armour; but let my horse have his due.

&plquo;Con.

&plquo;It is the best horse of Europe.&prquo;

&plquo;Orl.

&plquo;Will it never be morning?&prquo;

&plquo;Dau.

&plquo;My lord of Orleans, and my lord high Constable, you talk of horse and armour,—&prquo;

&plquo;Orl.

&plquo;You are as well provided of both, as any Prince in the world.&prquo;

&plquo;Dau.

&plquo;What a long night is this! I will not change my horse with any that treads but on four pasterns; ça, ha! le Cheval volant, the Pegasus, chez les Narines

de feu! ^{1 note}he bounds from the earth, as if his entrails were hairs; when I bestride him, I soar, I am a Hawk; he trots the air, the earth sings when he touches it; the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes.&prquo;

Orl.

He's of the colour of the Nutmeg.

Dau.

And of the heat of the ginger. It is a beast for Perseus; he is pure air and fire; and the dull elements of earth and water never appear in him, &plquo;but only in patient stilness while his rider mounts him; he is, indeed, a horse; ^{2 note}
and all other beasts you may call jades.&prquo;

&plquo;Con.

&plquo;Indeed, my lord, it is a most absolute and excellent horse.&prquo;

&plquo;Dau.

&plquo;It is the prince of palfreys; his neigh is like the bidding of a monarch, and his countenance enforces homage.&prquo;

&plquo;Orl.

&plquo;No more, cousin.&prquo;

&plquo;Dau.

&plquo;Nay, the man hath no wit, that cannot, from the rising of the lark to the lodging of the lamb, vary deserved praise on my palfrey; it is a theme as fluent as the sea: turn the sands into eloquent tongues, and my horse is argument for them all; 'tis a subject for a Sovereign to reason on, and for a Sovereign's Sovereign to ride on; and for the world, familiar to us and unknown, to lay apart their particular functions and wonder at him. I once writ a sonnet in his praise, and began thus, ^{3 note}Wonder of nature—&prquo;

Orl.

I have heard a sonnet begin so to one's mistress.

Dau.

Then did they imitate that, which I compos'd to my courser; for my horse is my mistress.

&plquo;Orl.

&plquo;Your mistress bears well.&prquo;

&plquo;Dau.

&plquo;Me, well;—which is the prescript praise, and perfection, of a good and particular mistress.&prquo;

Con.

Methought, yesterday your mistress shrewdly shook your back.

&plquo;Dau.

&plquo;So, perhaps, did yours.&prquo;

&plquo;Con.

&plquo;Mine was not bridled.&prquo;

&plquo;Dau.

&plquo;O, then, belike, she was old and gentle; and you rode, like a Kern of Ireland, your French hose off, and in your strait Trossers.&prquo;

&plquo;Con.

&plquo;You have good judgment in horsemanship.&prquo;

&plquo;Dau.

&plquo;Be warn'd by me then; they that ride so and ride not warily, fall into foul bogs; I had rather have my horse to my mistress.&prquo;

&plquo;Con.

&plquo;I had as lieve have my mistress a jade.&prquo;

&plquo;Dau.

&plquo;I tell thee, Constable, my mistress wears her own hair.&prquo;

&plquo;Con.

&plquo;I could make as true a boast as that, if I had a Sow to my mistress.&prquo;

&plquo;Dau.

&plquo;Le chien est retourné à son propre vomissement, & la truie lavée au bourbier; thou mak'st use of any thing.&prquo;

&plquo;Con.

&plquo;Yet do I not use my horse for my mistress; or any such proverb, so little kin to the purpose.&prquo;

&plquo;Ram.

&plquo;My lord Constable, the armour, that I saw in your tent to night, are those stars, or suns upon it?&prquo;

&plquo;Con.

&plquo;Stars, my lord.&prquo;

&plquo;Dau.

&plquo;Some of them will fall to morrow, I hope.&prquo;

&plquo;Con.

&plquo;And yet my sky shall not want.&prquo;

&plquo;Dau.

&plquo;That may be, for you bear many superfluously; and 'twere more honour, some were away.&prquo;

&plquo;Con.

&plquo;Ev'n as your horse bears your praises, who would trot as well, were some of your brags dismounted.&prquo;

&plquo;Dau.

&plquo;Would I were able to load him with his desert.&prquo; Will it never be day? I will trot to morrow a mile, and my way shall be paved with English faces.

Con.

I will not say so, for fear I shou'd be fac'd out of my way; but I would it were morning, for I would fain be about the ears of the English.

Ram.

Who will go to hazard with me for twenty English prisoners?

Con.

You must first go your self to hazard ere you have them.

Dau.

'Tis mid-night, I'll go arm my self.

Orl.

The Dauphin longs for morning.

Ram.

He longs to eat the English.

Con.

I think, he will eat all he kills.

&plquo;Orl.

&plquo;By the white hand of my lady, he's a gallant Prince.&prquo;

&plquo;Con.

&plquo;Swear by her foot, that she may tread out the oath.&prquo;

Orl.

He is simply the most active gentleman of France.

Con.

Doing is activity, and he will still be doing.

Orl.

He never did harm, that I heard of.

Con.

Nor will do none to morrow: he will keep that good name still.

Orl.

I know him to be valiant.

Con.

I was told that, by one that knows him better than you.

Orl.

What's he?

Con.

Marry, he told me so himself; and he said, he car'd not who knew it.

&plquo;Orl.

&plquo;He needs not, it is no hidden virtue in him.&prquo;

&plquo;Con.

&plquo;By my faith, Sir, but it is; never any body saw it, but his lacquey; 'tis a hooded valour, and when it appears, it will bate.&prquo;

Orl.

Ill will never said well.

Cor.

I will cap that proverb with, There is flattery in friendship.

Orl.

And I will take up that with, Give the Devil his due.

Con.

Well plac'd; there stands your friend for the devil; have at the very eye of that proverb with, A pox on the devil!

Orl.

You are the better at proverbs, by how much a fool's bolt is soon shot.

Con.

You have shot over.

Orl.

'Tis not the first time you were over-shot.