Bard.

Here comes ancient Pistol and his wife; good corporal, be patient here. How now, mine host Pistol?

Pist.

Base tyke, call'st thou me host? now by this hand, I swear I scorn the term, nor shall my Nel keep lodgers.

Quick.

No by my troth not long: for we cannot lodge and board a dozen or fourteen gentlewomen that live honestly by the prick of their needles, but it will be thought we keep a bawdy-house straight. O welliday lady, if he be not hewn now, we shall see wilful adultery and murther committed.

Bard.

Good lieutenant, good corporal, offer nothing here.

Nim.

Pish.

Pist.

Pish for thee, Island dog; thou prick-ear'd cur of Island.

Quick.

Good corporal Nim, shew thy valour and put up thy sword.

Nim.
Will you shog off? I would have you solus.

Pist.
Solus, egregious dog! O viper vile;
The solus in thy most marvellous face,
The solus in thy teeth, and in thy throat,
And in thy hateful lungs, yea in thy maw perdy;
And which is worse within thy nasty mouth.
I do retort the solus in thy bowels;
For I can take, and Pistol's cock is up
And flashing fire will follow.

Nim.

I am not Barbason, you cannot conjure me: I have an humour to knock you indifferently well; if you grow foul with me, Pistol, I will scour you with my rapier as I may, in fair terms. If you would walk off, I would prick your guts a little in good terms as I may, and that's the humour of it.

Pist.
O braggard vile, and damned furious wight,
The grave doth gape and ^{k note}groaning death is near,
Therefore exhale.

Bard.

Hear me, hear me what I say: he that strikes the first stroke, I'll run him up to the hilts as I am a soldier.

Pist.
An Oath of mickle might; and fury shall abate.
Give me thy fist, thy fore-foot to me give:
Thy spirits are more tall.

Nim.

I will cut thy throat one time or other in fair terms, that is the humour of it.

Pist.
Coupe a gorge, that is the word. I defie thee again.
O hound of Creet, think'st thou my spouse to get?
No to the spittle go,
And from the powd'ring tub of infamy
Fetch forth the lazar Kite of Cressid's kind,
Dol Tear-sheet, she by name, and her espouse.
I have, and I will hold the Quondam Quickly

For th'only she; and pauca, there's enough, go to. Enter the Boy.

Boy.

Mine host Pistol, you must come to my master, and your hostess: he is very sick, and would to bed. Good Bardolph, put thy ^{l note}nose between his sheets, and do the office of a warming-pan: faith, he's very ill.

Bard.

Away, you rogue.

Quick.

By my troth, he'll yield the Crow a pudding one of these days; the King has kill'd his heart. Good husband come home presently.

Bard.

Come, shall I make you two friends? we must to France together: why the devil should we keep knives to cut one another's throats?

Pist.

Let floods o'erswell, and fiends for food howl on.

Nim.

You'll pay me the eight shillings I won of you at betting?

Pist.

Base is the slave that pays.

Nim.

That now I will have; that's the humour of it.

Pist.

As manhood shall compound, push home.

Bard.

By this sword, he that makes the first thrust, I'll kill him; by this sword I will.

Pist.

Sword is an oath, and oaths must have their course.

Bard.

Corporal Nim, an thou wilt be friends, be friends; an thou wilt not, why then be enemies with me too; pr'ythee put up.

Pist.
A noble shalt thou have and present pay,
And liquor likewise will I give to thee,
And friendship shall combine and brotherhood.
I'll live by Nim, and Nim shall live by me.
Is not this just? for I shall Suttler be
Unto the camp, and profits will accrue.
Give me thy hand.

Nim.
I shall have my noble?

Pist.
In cash most justly paid.

Nim.
Well then, that's the humour of't. Enter Hostess.

Host.

As ever you came of women, come in quickly to Sir John: ah poor heart, he is so shak'd of a burning quotidian tertian, that it is most lamentable to behold. Sweet men, come to him.

Nim.

The King hath run bad humours on the Knight, that's the even of it.

Pist.

Nim, thou hast spoke the right, his heart is fracted and corroborate.

Nim.

The King is a good King, but it must be as it may; he passes some humours and carreers.

Pist.
Let us condole the Knight; for, lambkins! we will live. [Exeunt. ^noteACT II.

† [Footnote: SCENE I. SOUTH-HAMPTON.

Enter Chorus.
Now all the youth of England are on fire,
And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies:
Now thrive the armourers, and honour's thought
Reigns solely in the breast of every man.
They sell the pasture now to buy the horse,
Following the mirror of all christian Kings,

With winged heels, as English Mercuries.
For now sits expectation in the air,
And hides a sword from hilts unto the point
With crowns imperial, crowns, and coronets,
Promis'd to Harry and his followers.
The French, advis'd by good intelligence
Of this most dreadful preparation,
Shake in their fear, and with pale policy
Seek to divert the English purposes.
O England! model to thy inward greatness,
Like little body with a mighty heart;
What might'st thou do, that honour would thee do,
Were all thy children kind and natural!
But see thy fault France hath in thee found out,
A nest of hollow bosoms, which he fills
With treach'rous crowns, and three corrupted men.
One, Richard Earl of Cambridge; and the second
Henry lord Scroop of Masham; and the third
Sir Thomas Gray Knight of Northumberland,
Have for the gilt of France (O guilt indeed!)
Confirm'd conspiracy with fearful France,
And by their hands this grace of Kings must die,
If hell and treason hold their promises,
E'er he take ship for France. Then in Southampton
Linger your patience on, and ^{a note}well digest
Th'abuse of distance, while we force a play.
The sum is paid, the traitors are agreed,
The King is set from London, and the scene
Is now transported, gentles, to Southampton:
There is the play-house now, there must you sit,
And thence to France shall we convey you safe,
And bring you back: charming the narrow seas
To give you gentle pass; for if we may,

We'll not offend one stomach with our play.
But 'till the King come forth, and not 'till then,
Unto Southampton do we shift our scene. [Exit. SCENE II. Enter Exeter, Bedford, and Westmorland.

Bed.
'Fore God, his grace is bold to trust these traitors.

Exe.
They shall be apprehended by and by.

West.
How smooth and even they do bear themselves,
As if allegiance in their bosoms sate,
Crowned with faith and constant loyalty.

Bed.
The King hath note of all that they intend,
By interception which they dream not of.

Exe.
Nay but the man that was his bed-fellow,
Whom he hath lull'd and cloy'd with gracious favours!
That he should for a foreign purse so sell
His Soveraign's life to death and treachery. [Trumpets sound. Enter the King, Scroop, Cambridge, and Grey.

K. Henry.
Now sits the wind fair, and we will aboard.
My lord of Cambridge, and my lord of Masham,
And you my gentle Knight, give me your thoughts:
Think you not that the pow'rs we bear with us
Will cut their passage through the force of France?
Doing the execution and the act
For which we have in head assembled them.

Scroop.
No doubt, my Liege; if each man do his best.

K. Henry.
I doubt not that, since we are well persuaded
We carry not a heart with us from hence,
That grows not in a fair consent with ours:
And leave not one behind, that doth not wish
Success and conquest to attend on us.

Cam.
Never was monarch better fear'd and lov'd
Than is your Majesty; there's not a subject
That sits in heart-grief and uneasiness
Under the sweet shade of your government.

Grey.
True; those that were your father's enemies
Have steept their gauls in honey, and observe you
With hearts create of duty and of zeal.

K. Henry.
We therefore have great cause of thankfulness,
And shall forget the office of our hand,
Sooner than quittance of desert and merit,
According to the weight and worthiness.

Scroop.
So service shall with steeled sinews toil,
And labour shall refresh it self with hope,
To do your grace incessant services.

K. Henry.
We judge no less. Uncle of Exeter,
Inlarge the man committed yesterday,
That rail'd against our person: we consider
It was excess of wine that set him on,
And on his more advice we pardon him.

Scroop.
That's mercy, but too much security:
Let him be punish'd, Soveraign, lest example
Breed by his suff'rance more of such a kind.

K. Henry.
O let us yet be merciful.

Cam.
So may your highness, and yet punish too.

Grey.
You shew great mercy, if you give him life,
After the taste of much correction.

K. Henry.
Alas, your too much love and care of me
Are heavy orisons 'gainst this poor wretch.
If little faults proceeding on distemper
Shall not be wink'd at, how shall we stretch our eye
When capital crimes, chew'd, swallow'd and digested,
Appear before us? we'll enlarge that man,
Though Cambridge, Scroop and Grey in their dear care

And tender preservation of our person,
Would have him punish'd. Now to our French causes,
Who are the late commissioners?

Cam.
I one, my lord,
Your highness bad me ask for it to-day.

Scroop.
So did you me, my Liege.

Grey.
And I, my Soveraign.

K. Henry.
Then Richard Earl of Cambridge there is yours:
There yours, lord Scroop of Masham; and Sir Knight,
Grey of Northumberland, this same is yours;
Read them, and know I know your worthiness.
My lord of Westmorland and uncle Exeter,
We will aboard to-night. Why, how now gentlemen?
What see you in those papers that you lose
So much complexion? look ye how they change!
Their cheeks are paper. Why, what read you there
That hath so cowarded and chas'd your blood
Out of appearance?

Camb.
I confess my fault,
And do submit me to your Highness' mercy.

Grey. Scroop.
To which we all appeal.

K. Henry.
The mercy that was quick in us but late,
By your own counsel is suppress'd and kill'd:
You must not dare for shame to talk of mercy,
For your own reasons turn upon your bosoms,
As dogs upon their masters, worrying you.
See you my Princes and my noble Peers,
These English monsters! my lord Cambridge here,
You know how apt our love was to accord
To furnish him with all appertinents
Belonging to his honour; and this man
Hath for a few light crowns lightly conspir'd,
And sworn unto the practices of France

To kill us here in Hampton. To the which,
This Knight no less for bounty bound to us
Than Cambridge is, hath likewise sworn. But O!
What shall I say to thee lord Scroop, thou cruel,
Ingrateful, savage, and inhuman creature!
Thou that didst bear the key of all my counsels,
That knew'st the very bottom of my soul,
That almost might'st have coin'd me into gold,
Would'st thou have practis'd on me for thy use?
May it be possible, that foreign hire
Could out of thee extract one spark of evil
That might annoy my finger? 'tis so strange,
That though the truth of it stand off as gross
As black and white, my eye will scarcely see it.
† ^noteTreason and murder ever kept together,
As two yoak-devils sworn to either's purpose;
Working so grosly in a natural cause,
That admiration did not hoop at them.
But thou 'gainst all proportion didst bring in
Wonder to wait on treason, and on murther:
And whatsoever cunning fiend it was
That wrought upon thee so prepost'rously,
Hath got the voice in hell for excellence:
And other devils that suggest by-treasons
Do botch and bungle up damnation,
With patches, colours, and with forms being fetcht
From glist'ring semblances of piety:
But he that temper'd thee bad thee stand up,
Gave thee no instance why thou shouldst do treason,
Unless to dub thee with the name of traitor.
If that same Dæmon that hath gull'd thee thus,
Should with his Lion-gate walk the whole world,
He might return to vasty Tartar back,

And tell the legions, I can never win
A soul so easie as that Englishman's.
Oh, how hast thou with jealousie infected
The sweetness of affiance! Shew men dutiful?
Why so didst thou. or seem they grave and learned?
Why so didst thou. come they of noble family?
Why so didst thou. seem they religious?
Why so didst thou. or are they spare in diet,
Free from gross passion or of mirth or anger,
Constant in spirit, nor swerving with the blood,
Garnish'd and deck'd in modest complement,
Not working with the eye without the ear,
And but in purged judgment trusting neither?
Such, and so finely † ^noteboulted didst thou seem.
And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot,
To make ^{b note}the full-fraught man, the best, endu'd
With some suspicion. I will weep for thee.
For this revolt of thine methinks is like
Another fall of man—Their faults are open,
Arrest them to the answer of the law,
And God acquit them of their practices.

Exe.
I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Richard
Earl of Cambridge.
  I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Thomas Lord
Scroop of Masham.
  I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Thomas Grey,
Knight of Northumberland.

Scroop.
Our purposes God justly hath discover'd,
And I repent my fault more than my death;
Which I beseech your highness to forgive,
Although my body pay the price of it.

Cam.
For me, the gold of France did not seduce,
Although I did admit it as a motive

The sooner to effect what I intended;
But God be thanked for prevention,
Which I in suff'rance heartily rejoice for,
Beseeching God and you to pardon me.

Grey.
Never did faithful subject more rejoice
At the discovery of most dangerous treason,
Than I do at this hour of joy o'er my self,
Prevented from a damned enterprize:
My fault but not my body, pardon Soveraign.

K. Henry.
God quit you in his mercy; hear your sentence;
You have conspir'd against our royal person,
† ^noteJoin'd with an enemy, and from his coffers
Receiv'd the golden earnest of our death;
Wherein you would have sold your King to slaughter,
His Princes and his Peers to servitude,
His subjects to oppression and contempt,
And his whole kingdom into desolation.
Touching our person, seek we no revenge,
But we our kingdom's safety must so tender,
Whose ruin you three sought, that to her laws
We do deliver you. Go therefore hence,
Poor miserable wretches to your death;
The taste whereof God of his mercy give
You patience to endure, and true repentance
Of all your dear offences. Bear them hence. [Exeunt.
Now, lords, for France, the enterprize whereof
Shall be to you, as us, like glorious.
We doubt not of a fair and lucky war,
Since God so graciously hath brought to light
This dangerous treason lurking in our way,
To hinder our beginning. Now we doubt not
But every rub is smoothed in our way:
Then forth dear countrymen; let us deliver

Our puissance into the hand of God,
Putting it strait in expedition.
Chearly to sea the signs of war advance,
No King of England, if not King of France. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Changes again to London. Enter Pistol, Nim, Bardolph, Boy, and Hostess.

Host.

Pr'ythee honey sweet husband, let me bring thee to Staines.

Pistol.
No, for my manly heart doth yern.
Bardolph, be blith: Nim, rouze thy vaunting veins:
Boy, bristle thy courage up; for Falstaff he is dead,
And we must yern therefore.

Bard.

Would I were with him wheresome'er he is, either in heaven or in hell.

Host.

Nay, sure he's not in hell; he's in Arthur's bosom, if ever man went to Arthur's bosom. He made a finer end, and went away an it had been any christom child; a parted even just between twelve and one, even at the turning o'th'tide: For after I saw him fumble with the sheets, and play with flowers, and smile upon his finger's end, I knew there was but one way; for † ^notehis nose was as sharp as a pen. How now, Sir John? quoth I: what man? be a good cheer: so a cried out, God, God, God, three or four times. Now I, to comfort him, bid him a should not think of God; I hop'd there was no need to trouble

himself with any such thoughts yet: so a bad me lay more clothes on his feet: I put my hand into the bed and felt them, and they were as cold as a stone: then I felt to his knees, and so upward, and upward, and all was as cold as any stone.

Nim.

They say he cried out of sack.

Host.

Ay that a did.

Bard.

And of women.

Host.

Nay that a did not.

Boy.

Yes that he did, and said they were devils incarnate.

Host.

A could never abide carnation, 'twas a colour he never lik'd.

Boy.

He said once, the deule would have him about women.

Host.

He did in some sort indeed handle women; but then he was rheumatick and talk'd of the whore of Babylon.

Boy.

Do you not remember he saw a Flea stick upon Bardolph's nose, and said it was a black soul burning in hell.

Bard.

Well, the fuel is gone that maintain'd that fire: that's all the riches I got in his service.

Nim.

Shall we shogg? the King will be gone from Southhampton.

Pist.
Come, let's away. My love, give me thy lips:
Look to my chattels, and my moveables;
Let senses rule; the word is pitch and pay;
Trust none, for oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer-cakes,
And hold-fast is the only dog, my Duck,
Therefore Caveto be thy counsellor.
Go, clear thy crystals. Yoke-yoke-fellows in arms
Let us to France, like Horse-leeches, my boys,
To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck.

Boy.
And that's but unwholsome food, they say.

Pist.
Touch her soft mouth and march.

Bard.
Farewel hostess.

Nim.
I cannot kiss, that is the humour of it; but adieu.

Pist.
Let housewifery appear; keep close, I thee command.

Host.
Farewel; adieu. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Changes to France. Enter the French King, the Dauphin, the Duke of Burgundy, and the Constable.

Fr. King.
Thus come the English with full power upon us,
And more than carefully it us concerns
To answer royally in our defences.
Therefore the Dukes of Berry and of Britain,
Of Brabant and of Orleans shall make forth,
And you, Prince Dauphin, with all swift dispatch;
To line and new repair our towns of war
With men of courage, and with means defendant:
For England his approaches makes as fierce
As waters to the sucking of a gulf.
It fits us then to be as provident
As fear may teach us out of late examples,
Left by the fatal and neglected English
Upon our fields.

Dau.
My most redoubted father,
It is most meet we arm us 'gainst the foe:
For peace it self should not so dull a kingdom,
(Tho' war, nor no known quarrel were in question)
But that defences, musters, preparations,
Should be maintain'd, assembled and collected,
As were a war in expectation.
Therefore I say 'tis meet we all go forth,
To view the sick and feeble parts of France:
And let us do it with no shew of fear;

No, with no more than if we heard that England
Were busied with a Whitson morris-dance:
For, my good Liege, she is so idly king'd,
Her scepter so fantastically born,
By a vain, giddy, shallow, humorous youth,
That fear attends her not.

Con.
O peace, Prince Dauphin,
† ^noteYou are too much mistaken in this King:
Question your grace the late ambassadors,
With what great state he heard their embassie,
How well supply'd with noble counsellors,
How modest in exception, and withal
How terrible in constant resolution:
And you shall find his vanities fore-spent
Were but the out-side of the Roman Brutus,
Covering discretion with a coat of folly;
As gardeners do with ordure hide those roots
That shall first spring and be most delicate.

Dau.
Well, 'tis not so, my lord high constable.
But tho' we think it so, it is no matter:
In causes of defence, 'tis best to weigh
The enemy more mighty than he seems,
So the proportions of defence are fill'd;
Which of a weak and niggardly projection,
Doth like a miser spoil his coat with scanting
A little cloth.

Fr. King.
Think we King Harry strong;
And Princes look you strongly arm to meet him.
The kindred of him hath been flesh'd upon us;
And he is bred out of that bloody strain
That haunted us in our familiar paths:
Witness our too much memorable shame,
When Cressy battel fatally was struck,

And all our Princes captiv'd by the hand
Of that black name, Edward the Prince of Wales:
While that his mountain fire, on mountain standing,
Up in the air, crown'd with the golden sun,
Saw his heroick seed, and smil'd to see him
Mangle the work of nature, and deface
The patterns that by God and by French fathers
Had twenty years been made. This is a stem
Of that victorious stock; and let us fear
The native mightiness and fate of him. Enter a Messenger.

Mess.
Ambassadors from Harry King of England
Do crave admittance to your Majesty.

Fr. King.
We'll give them present audience. Go, and bring them.
You see this chase is hotly follow'd, friends.

Dau.
Turn head, and stop pursuit; for coward dogs
Most spend their mouths, when what they seem to threaten
Runs far before them. Good my Soveraign,
Take up the English short, and let them know
Of what a monarchy you are the head:
Self-love, my Liege, is not so vile a sin
As self-neglecting. SCENE V. Enter Exeter.

Fr. King.
From our brother England?

Exe.
From him; and thus he greets your Majesty:
He wills you in the name of God Almighty,
That you divest your self, and lay apart
The borrow'd glories, that by gift of heaven,
By law of nature and of nations, 'long

To him and to his heirs; namely the crown,
And all the wide-stretch'd honours that pertain
By custom and the ordinance of times,
Unto the crown of France. That you may know
'Tis no sinister nor no awkward claim,
Pick'd from the worm-holes of long-vanish'd days,
Nor from the dust of old oblivion rak'd;
He sends you this most memorable line,
In every branch truly demonstrative,
Willing you over-look his pedigree;
And when you find him evenly deriv'd
From his most fam'd of famous ancestors,
Edward the Third; he bids you then resign
Your crown and kingdom, indirectly held
From him the native and true challenger.

Fr. King.
Or else what follows?

Exe.
Bloody constraint; for if you hide the crown
Ev'n in your hearts, there will he rake for it.
And therefore in fierce tempest is he coming,
In thunder and in earthquake like a Jove:
That if requiring fail, he may compell.
He bids you in the bowels of the lord,
Deliver up the crown, and to take mercy
On the poor souls for whom this hungry war
Opens his vasty jaws; upon your head
Turning the widows tears, the orphans cries,
The dead mens blood, the ^{c note}pining maidens groans,
For husbands, fathers, and betrothed lovers,
That shall be swallow'd in this controversie.
This is his claim, his threatning, and my message;
Unless the Dauphin be in presence here,
To whom expresly I bring greeting too.

Fr. King.
For us we will consider of this further:

To-morrow shall you bear our full intent
Back to our brother England.

Dau.
For the Dauphin,
I stand here for him; what to him from England?

Exe.
Scorn and defiance, slight regard, contempt,
And any thing that may not mis-become
The mighty sender, doth he prize you at.
Thus says my King; and if your father's highness
Do not in grant of all demands at large,
Sweeten the bitter mock you sent his Majesty;
He'll call you to so hot an answer for it,
That caves and womby vaultages of France
Shall chide your trespass, and return your mock
In second accent to his ordinance.

Dau.
Say, if my father ^{d note}render fair reply,
It is against my will; for I desire
Nothing but odds with England; to that end,
As matching to his youth and vanity,
I did present him with those Paris balls.

Exe.
He'll make your Paris Louvre shake for it,
Were it the mistress court of mighty Europe:
And be assur'd you'll find a difference,
As we his subjects have in wonder found,
Between the promise of his greener days
And these he masters now; now he weighs time
Even to the utmost grain, which you shall read
In your own losses, if he stay in France.

Fr. King.
To-morrow you shall know our mind at full. [Flourish.

Exe.
Dispatch us with all speed, lest that our King
Come here himself to question our delay,
For he is footed in this land already.

Fr. King.
You shall be soon dispatch'd with fair conditions

A night is but small breath, and little pause,
To answer matters of this consequence. [Exeunt. ^noteACT III.

† [Footnote: SCENE I. FRANCE.

Enter Chorus.
Thus with imagin'd wing our swift scene flies,
In motion of no less celerity
Than that of thought. Suppose that you have seen
The well-appointed King at Dover Peer
Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet
With silken streamers the young Phœbus fanning.
Play with your fancies; and in them behold,
Upon the hempen tackle ship boys climbing,
Hear the shrill whistle which doth order give
To sounds confus'd; behold the threaden sails,
Born with th'invisible and creeping wind,
Draw the huge bottoms thro' the furrow'd sea,
Breasting the lofty surge. O, do but think
You stand upon the rivage, and behold
A city on th'inconstant billows dancing;
For so appears this fleet majestical,
Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, follow.
Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy,
And leave your England, as dead midnight still,
Guarded with grandsires, babies and old women,
Or past or not arriv'd to pith and puissance:
For who is he whose chin is but enrich'd

With one appearing hair, that will not follow
These cull'd and choice-drawn cavaliers to France?
Work, work your thoughts, and therein see a siege:
Behold the ordnance on their carriages
With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur.
Suppose th' ambassador from France comes back,
Tells Harry, that the King doth offer him
Katharine his daughter, and with her to dowry
Some petty and unprofitable Dukedoms:
The offer likes not; and the nimble gunner
With lynstock now the devilish cannon touches, [Alarm, and Cannon go off.
And down goes all before him. Still be kind,
And eke out our performance with your mind. [Exit. SCENE II. Enter King Henry, Exeter, Bedford, and Gloucester, with scaling-ladders as before Harfleur.

K. Henry.
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the Tyger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let it pry through the portage of the head,
Like the brass cannon let the brow o'erwhelm it,
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'er-hang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.

Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit
To his full height. Now on, you noblest English,
Whose blood is fetcht from fathers of war-proof;
Fathers, that like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn 'till even fought,
And sheath'd their swords for lack of argument:
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest,
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war; and you, good yeomen,
Whose limbs were made in England, shew us here
The mettle of your pasture: let us swear
That you are worth your breeding, which I doubt not:
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes;
I see you stand like Greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's a-foot:
Follow your spirit; and upon this charge,
Cry, God for Harry, England, and St. George. [Alarm, and Cannon go off. SCENE III. Enter Nim, Bardolph, Pistol, and Boy.

Bard.

On, on, on, on, on, to the breach, to the breach.

Nim.

'Pray thee, corporal, stay, the knocks are too hot; and for mine own part, I have not a case of lives: the humour of it is too hot, that is the very plain song of it.

Pist.
The plain song is most just; for humours do abound:
Knocks go and come: God's vassals drop and die;
And sword and shield, in bloody field, doth win immortal fame.

Boy.

Wou'd I were in an ale-house in London, I would give all my fame for a pot of ale and safety.

Pist.
* ^noteAnd I; if wishes would prevail,
I wou'd not stay, but thither would I hye. Enter Fluellen.

Flu.
Up to the breach, you dogs; avaunt, you cullions.

Pist.
Be merciful, great Duke, to men of mould,
Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage;
Good bawcock bate thy rage, use lenity sweet chuck.

Nim.

These be good humours; your honour wins bad humours.

Boy.

As young as I am, I have observ'd these three swashers. I am boy to them all three; but all they three, though they would serve me, could not be man to me; for indeed three such antiques do not amount to a man. For Bardolph, he is white liver'd and red fac'd, by the means whereof he faces it out, but fights not. For Pistol, he hath a killing tongue and a quiet sword; by the means whereof he breaks words, and keeps whole weapons. For Nim, he hath heard that men of few words are the best men, and therefore he scorns to say his prayers, lest he should be thought a coward; but his few bad words are match'd with as few good deeds, for he never broke any man's head but his own, and that was against a post when he was drunk. They will steal any thing and call it purchase. Bardolph stole a lute-case, bore it twelve leagues, and sold it for three half-pence. Nim and Bardolph are sworn brothers in filching; and in Calais they stole a fire-shovel. I knew by that piece of service, the men would carry coals. They would have me as familiar with mens pockets as their gloves or their hand-kerchers; which makes much against my manhood, for if I would take from another's pocket to put into mine; it is plain pocketting up of wrongs. I must leave them, and seek some better service; their villany goes against my weak stomach, and therefore I must cast it up.

Enter Gower.

Gower.

Captain Fluellen, you must come presently to the mines; the Duke of Gloucester would speak with you.

Flu.

To the mines? tell you the Duke it is not so good to come to the mines; for look you the mines are not according to the disciplines of the war; the concavities of it is not sufficient; for look you, th' athversary (you may discuss unto the Duke, look you) is dig'd himself four yards under the countermines; by Cheshu I think a will plow up all, if there is not petter directions.

Gower.

The Duke of Gloucester, to whom the order of the siege is given, is altogether directed by an Irish man, a very valiant gentleman i'faith.

Flu.

It is captain Mackmorrice, is it not?

Gower.

I think it be.

Flu.

By Cheshu he is an Ass, as in the world; I will verifie as much in his beard; he has no more directions in the true disciplines of the wars, look you of the Roman disciplines, than is a Puppy-dog.