J. Payne Collier [1842–1844], The works of William Shakespeare. The text formed from an entirely new collation of the old editions: with the various readings, notes, a life of the poet, and a history of the Early English stage. By J. Payne Collier, Esq. F.S.A. In eight volumes (Whittaker & Co. [etc.], London) [word count] [S10101].
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ACT III.
Enter Chorus.
Chor.
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 Hampton pier7 note
Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet
With silken streamers the young Phœbus fanning8 note:
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,
Borne with th' invisible and creeping wind,
Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd sea, 11Q0667
Breasting the lofty surge. O! do but think,
You stand upon the rivage9 note, 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,
Either 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 the French comes back;
-- 501 --
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 linstock now the devilish cannon touches,
[Alarum; and Chambers go off1 note.
And down goes all before them. Still be kind,
And eke out our performance with your mind.
[Exit.
SCENE I.
France. Before Harfleur.
Alarums. Enter King Henry, Exeter, Bedford,
Gloster, and Soldiers, with Scaling Ladders.
K. Hen.
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more2 note;
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 tiger:
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood3 note,
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'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide;
-- 502 --
Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit
To his full height!—On, on, you noblest English4 note!
Whose blood is fet5 note 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, show 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 afoot:
Follow your spirit; and upon this charge,
Cry—God for Harry! England! and Saint George!
[Exeunt. Alarum, and Chambers go off.
SCENE II.
The Same.
Forces pass over; then enter Nym, Bardolph, Pistol, and Boy.
Bard.
On, on, on, on, on! to the breach, to the
breach!
Nym.
Pray thee, corporal, stay: the knocks are too
hot; and for mine own part, I have not a case of
-- 503 --
lives6 note: 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; 11Q0668
And sword and shield,
In bloody field,
Doth win immortal fame.
Boy.
Would I were in an alehouse in London! I
would give all my fame for a pot of ale, and safety.
Pist.
And I:
If wishes would prevail with me,
My purpose should not fail with me,
But thither would I hie7 note.
Boy.
As duly, but not as truly, as bird doth sing
on bough.
Enter Fluellen.
Flu.
Up to the preach, you dogs! avaunt, you cullions!
[Driving them forward.
Pist.
Be merciful, great duke, to men of mould!
Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage;
Abate thy rage, great duke!
Good bawcock, bate thy rage; use lenity, sweet chuck!
Nym.
These be good humours!—your honour wins
bad humours.
[Exeunt Nym, Pistol, and Bardolph, followed by Fluellen.
Boy.
As young as I am, I have observed 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 antics do not amount to
-- 504 --
a man, For Bardolph, he is white-livered, and red-faced;
by the means whereof, 'a faces it out, but fights
not. For Pistol, he hath a killing tongue, and a quiet
sword; by the means whereof 'a breaks words, and
keeps whole weapons. For Nym, he hath heard, that
men of few words are the best men; and therefore he
scorns to say his prayers, lest 'a should be thought a
coward: but his few bad words are match'd with as
few good deeds; for 'a 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 halfpence. Nym 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 coals8 note. They would have me as familiar
with men's pockets, as their gloves or their handkerchiefs:
which makes much against my manhood, if I
should take from another's pocket, to put into mine,
for it is plain pocketing up of wrongs. I must leave
them, and seek some better service: their villainy goes
against my weak stomach, and therefore I must cast it
up.
[Exit Boy.
Re-enter Fluellen, Gower following.
Gow.
Captain Fluellen, you must come presently to
the mines: the duke of Gloster 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 is
not according to the disciplines of the war: the concavities
-- 505 --
of it is not sufficient; for, look you, th' athversary
(you may discuss unto the duke, look you) is digged
himself four yards under the countermines. By Cheshu,
I think, 'a will plow up all, if there is not better directions.
Gow.
The duke of Gloster, to whom the order of the
siege is given, is altogether directed by an Irishman; a
very valiant gentleman, i' faith.
Flu.
It is captain Macmorris, is it not?
Gow.
I think it be.
Flu.
By Cheshu, he is an ass, as in the world. I will
verify as much in his peard: he has no more directions
in the true disciplines of the wars, look you, of the
Roman disciplines, than is a puppy-dog.
Enter Macmorris and Jamy, at a distance.
Gower.
Here 'a comes; and the Scots captain, captain
Jamy, with him.
Flu.
Captain Jamy is a marvellous falorous gentleman,
that is certain; and of great expedition, and
knowledge in the ancient wars, upon my particular
knowledge of his directions: by Cheshu, he will maintain
his argument as well as any military man in the
world, in the disciplines of the pristine wars of the
Romans.
Jamy.
I say, gude day, captain Fluellen.
Flu.
God-den to your worship, goot captain James.
Gower.
How now, captain Macmorris! have you
quit the mines? have the pioneers given o'er?
Mac.
By Chrish la, tish ill done: the work ish give
over, the trumpet sound the retreat. By my hand, I
swear, and my father's soul, the work ish ill done; it
ish give over: I would have blowed up the town, so
Chrish save me, la, in an hour. O! tish ill done, tish
ill done; by my hand, tish ill done.
Flu.
Captain Macmorris, I peseech you now will you
vouchsafe me, look you, a few disputations with you,
-- 506 --
as partly touching or concerning the disciplines of the
war, the Roman wars, in the way of argument, look
you, and friendly communication; partly, to satisfy my
opinion, and partly, for the satisfaction, look you, of
my mind, as touching the direction of the military
discipline: that is the point.
Jamy.
It sall be very gude, gude feith, gude captains
bath: and I sall quit you9 note with gude leve, as I may pick
occasion; that sall I, marry.
Mac.
It is no time to discourse, so Chrish save me.
The day is hot, and the weather, and the wars, and the
king, and the dukes; it is no time to discourse. The
town is beseeched, and the trumpet calls us to the
breach, and we talk, and, by Chrish, do nothing: 'tis
shame for us all; so God sa' me, 'tis shame to stand
still; it is shame, by my hand: and there is throats to
be cut, and works to be done, and there ish nothing
done, so Chrish sa' me, la.
Jamy.
By the mess, ere these eyes of mine take
themselves to slumber, aile do gude service, or aile
lig i' the grund for it; ay, or go to death; and aile
pay it as valorously as I may, that sal I surely do, that
is the breif and the long. Marry, I wad full fain heard
some question 'tween you tway.
Flu.
Captain Macmorris, I think, look you, under
your correction, there is not many of your nation—
Mac.
Of my nation! What ish my nation? ish a
villain, and a bastard, and a knave, and a rascal? What
ish my nation? Who talks of my nation?
Flu.
Look you, if you take the matter otherwise
than is meant, captain Macmorris, peradventure, I
shall think you do not use me with that affability as
in discretion you ought to use me, look you; being as
goot a man as yourself, both in the disciplines of wars,
and in the derivation of my birth, and in other particularities.
-- 507 --
Mac.
I do not know you so good a man as myself:
so Chrish save me, I will cut off your head.
Gow.
Gentlemen both, you will mistake each other.
Jamy.
Au! that's a foul fault.
[A Parley sounded.
Gow.
The town sounds a parley.
Flu.
Captain Macmorris, when there is more better
opportunity to be required, look you, I will be so bold
as to tell you, I know the disciplines of wars; and there
is an end.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
The Same. Before the Gates of Harfleur.
The Governor and some Citizens on the Walls; the
English Forces below. Enter King Henry and his Train.
K. Hen.
How yet resolves the governor of the town?
This is the latest parle we will admit:
Therefore, to our best mercy give yourselves,
Or, like to men proud of destruction,
Defy us to our worst; for, as I am a soldier,
A name that in my thoughts becomes me best,
If I begin the battery once again,
I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur,
Till in her ashes she lie buried.
The gates of mercy shall be all shut up;
And the flesh'd soldier, rough and hard of heart,
In liberty of bloody hand shall range
With conscience wide as hell, mowing like grass
Your fresh-fair virgins, and your flowering infants.
What is it then to me, if impious war,
Arrayed in flames like to the prince of fiends, 11Q0669
Do, with his smirch'd complexion, all fell feats
-- 508 --
Enlink'd to waste and desolation?
What is't to me, when you yourselves are cause,
If your pure maidens fall into the hand
Of hot and forcing violation?
What rein can hold licentious wickedness,
When down the hill he holds his fierce career?
We may as bootless spend our vain command
Upon th' enraged soldiers in their spoil,
As send precepts to the Leviathan
To come ashore. Therefore, you men of Harfleur,
Take pity of your town, and of your people,
Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command;
Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace
O'erblows the filthy and contagious clouds
Of heady murder1 note, spoil, and villainy.
If not, why, in a moment look to see
The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand
Defile the locks2 note of your shrill-shrieking daughters;
Your fathers taken by the silver beards,
And their most reverend heads dash'd to the walls;
Your naked infants spitted upon pikes,
Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confus'd
Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry
At Herod's bloody-hunting slaughtermen.
What say you? will you yield, and this avoid?
Or, guilty in defence, be thus destroy'd?
Gov.
Our expectation hath this day an end.
The Dauphin, whom of succour we entreated,
-- 509 --
Returns us that his powers are yet not ready
To raise so great a siege. Therefore, great king,
We yield our town and lives to thy soft mercy.
Enter our gates; dispose of us, and ours,
For we no longer are defensible.
K. Hen.
Open your gates!—Come, uncle Exeter,
Go you and enter Harfleur; there remain,
And fortify it strongly 'gainst the French:
Use mercy to them all. For us, dear uncle,
The winter coming on, and sickness growing
Upon our soldiers, we will retire to Calais.
To-night in Harfleur will we be your guest;
To-morrow for the march are we addrest.
[Flourish. The King, &c. enter the Town.
SCENE IV. [Notes and Emendations to the 1632 Folio]11Q0670
Rouen. A Room in the Palace.
Enter Katharine and Alice.
Kath.
Alice, tu as esté en Angleterre, et tu parles bien
le langage3 note.
Alice.
Un peu, madame.
Kath.
Je te prie, m'enseigniez; il faut que j'apprenne
à parler. Comment appellez vous la main, en Anglois?
Alice.
La main? elle est appellée, de hand.
Kath.
De hand. Et les doigts?
Alice.
Les doigts? may foy, je oublie les doigts; mais
-- 510 --
je me souviendray. Les doigts? je pense, qu'ils sont
appellé de fingres; ouy, de fingres.
Kath.
La main, de hand; les doigts, de fingres. Je
pense, que je suis le bon escolier. J'ay gagné deux
mots d'Anglois vistement. Comment appellez vous les
ongles?
Alice.
Les ongles? les appellons, de nails.
Kath.
De nails. Escoutez; dites moy, si je parle bien:
de hand, de fingres, de nails.
Alice.
C'est bien dit, madame; il est fort bon Anglois.
Kath.
Dites moy l'Anglois pour le bras.
Alice.
De arm, madame.
Kath.
Et le coude.
Alice.
De elbow.
Kath.
De elbow. Je m'en faitz la repetition de tous
les mots, que vous m'avez appris dès à present.
Alice.
Il est trop difficile, madame, comme je pense.
Kath.
Excusez moy, Alice; escoutez: de hand, de
fingre, de nails, de arm, de bilbow.
Alice.
De elbow, madame.
Kath.
O Seigneur Dieu! je m'en oublie; de elbow.
Comment appellez vous le col?
Alice.
De nick, madame.
Kath.
De nick: Et le menton?
Alice.
De chin.
Kath.
De sin. Le col. de nick: le menton, de sin.
Alice.
Ouy. Sauf vostre honneur; en verité, vous
prononcez les mots aussi droict que les natifs d'Angleterre.
Kath.
Je ne doute point d'apprendre par la grace de
Dieu, et en peu de temps.
Alice.
N'avez vous pas deja oublié ce que je vous ay
enseignée?
Kath.
Non, je reciteray à vous promptement. De
hand, de fingre, de mails,—
Alice.
De nails, madame.
Kath.
De nails, de arme, de ilbow.
Alice.
Sauf vostre honneur, de elbow.
-- 511 --
Kath.
Ainsi dis je; de elbow, de nick, et de sin:
Comment appellez vous le pieds et la robe?
Alice.
De foot, madame; et de con.
Kath.
De foot, et de con? O Seigneur Dieu! ces
sont mots de son mauvais, corruptible, grosse, et impudique,
et non pour les dames d'honneur d'user. Je ne voudrois
prononcer ces mots devant les Seigneurs de France, pour
tout le monde. Il faut de foot, et de con, neant-moins.
Je reciterai une autre fois ma leçon ensemble: de hand,
de fingre, de nails, de arm, de elbow, de nick, de sin,
de foot, de con.
Alice.
Excellent, madame!
Kath.
C'est assez pour une fois: allons nous a disner.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V.
The Same. Another Room in the Same.
Enter the French King, the Dauphin, Duke of Bourbon,
the Constable of France, and Others.
Fr. King.
'Tis certain, he hath pass'd the river Somme.
Con.
And if he be not fought withal, my lord,
Let us not live in France: let us quit all,
And give our vineyards to a barbarous people.
Dau.
O Dieu vivant! shall a few sprays of us,
The emptying of our fathers' luxury,
Our scions, put in wild and savage stock,
Spirt up so suddenly into the clouds,
And overlook their grafters?
Bour.
Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards.
Mort de ma vie! if they march along
Unfought withal, but I will sell my dukedom,
To buy a slobbery and a dirty farm
In that nook-shotten isle of Albion.
-- 512 --
Con.
Dieu de battailes! where have they this mettle?
Is not their climate foggy, raw, and dull,
On whom, as in despite, the sun looks pale,
Killing their fruit with frowns? Can sodden water,
A drench for sur-rein'd jades, their barley broth,
Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat?
And shall our quick blood, spirited with wine,
Seem frosty? O! for honour of our land,
Let us not hang like roping icicles
Upon our houses' thatch, whiles a more frosty people
Sweat drops of gallant youth in our rich fields,
Poor we may call them4 note, in their native lords.
Dau.
By faith and honour,
Our madams mock at us, and plainly say,
Our mettle is bred out; and they will give
Their bodies to the lust of English youth,
To new-store France with bastard warriors.
Bour.
They bid us to the English dancing-schools,
And teach lavoltas high, and swift corantos;
Saying, our grace is only in our heels,
And that we are most lofty runaways.
Fr. King.
Where is Mountjoy, the herald? speed him hence:
Let him greet England with our sharp defiance.—
Up, princes! and, with spirit of honour, edg'd
More sharper than your swords, hie to the field.
Charles De-la-bret, high constable of France;
You dukes of Orleans, Bourbon, and of Berry,
Alençon, Brabant, Bar, and Burgundy;
Jaques Chatillon, Rambures, Vaudemont,
Beaumont, Grandpré, Roussi, and Fauconberg,
Foix, Lestrale, Bouciqualt, and Charolois,
High dukes, great princes, barons, lords, and knights5 note,
For your great seats, now quit you of great shames.
-- 513 --
Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our land
With pennons painted in the blood of Harfleur:
Rush on his host, as doth the melted snow
Upon the valleys, whose low vassal seat
The Alps doth spit and void his rheum upon.
Go, down upon him,—you have power enough,—
And in a captive chariot into Rouen
Bring him our prisoner.
Con.
This becomes the great.
Sorry am I, his numbers are so few,
His soldiers sick, and famish'd in their march,
For, I am sure, when he shall see our army,
He'll drop his heart into the sink of fear,
And for achievement offer us his ransom.
Fr. King.
Therefore, lord constable, haste on Montjoy,
And let him say to England, that we send
To know what willing ransom he will give.—
Prince Dauphin, you shall stay with us in Rouen.
Dau.
Not so, I do beseech your majesty.
Fr. King.
Be patient, for you shall remain with us.—
Now, forth, lord constable, and princes all,
And quickly bring us word of England's fall.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI.
The English Camp in Picardy.
Enter Gower and Fluellen.
Gow.
How now, captain Fluellen? come you from
the bridge?
Flu.
I assure you, there is very excellent services
committed at the pridge.
Gow.
Is the duke of Exeter safe?
Flu.
The duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as Agamemnon;
-- 514 --
and a man that I love and honour with my
soul, and my heart, and my duty, and my life, and my
living, and my uttermost power: he is not (God be
praised, and plessed!) any hurt in the world; 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
world; but I did see him do as gallant service.
Gow.
What do you call him?
Flu.
He is called ancient Pistol.
Gow.
I know him not.
Enter Pistol.
Flu.
Here is the man6 note.
Pist.
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.
Pist.
Bardolph, a soldier, firm and sound of heart,
And of buxom valour, hath, by cruel fate
And giddy fortune's furious fickle wheel,
That goddess blind,
That stands upon the rolling restless stone,—
Flu.
By your patience, ancient Pistol. Fortune is
painted plind, with a muffler afore her eyes, 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 mutability,
and variation: and her foot, look you, is fixed upon a
spherical stone, which rolls, and rolls, and rolls. In
good truth, the poet makes a most excellent description
of it: fortune, is an excellent moral.
-- 515 --
Pist.
Fortune is Bardolph's foe, and frowns on him;
For he hath stol'n a pax7 note, and hanged must 'a be.
A damned death!
Let gallows gape for dog, let man go free,
And let not hemp his wine-pipe suffocate.
But Exeter hath given the doom of death,
For pax of little price:
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.
Pist.
Why then, rejoice therefore.
Flu.
Certainly, ancient, it is not a thing to rejoice
at; for if, look you, he were my brother, I would
desire the duke to use his goot pleasure, and put him
to execution, for discipline ought to be used.
Pist.
Die and be damn'd; and fico for thy friendship!
Flu.
It is well.
Pist.
The fig of Spain!
[Exit Pistol.
Flu.
Very good8 note
.
Gow.
Why, this is an arrant counterfeit rascal: I
remember him now; a bawd; a cutpurse.
Flu.
I'll assure you, 'a utter'd as prave words at the
pridge, as you shall see 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.
-- 516 --
Gow.
Why, 'tis a gull, a fool, a rogue; that now and
then goes to the wars, to grace himself at his return
into London under the form of a soldier. And such
fellows are perfect in the great 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 the phrase of war, which they
trick up with new-tuned oaths: 11Q0671 and what a beard of
the general's cut, and a horrid suit of the camp, will do
among foaming bottles, and ale-washed 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
show to the world 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, Gloster, and Soldiers9 note.
Flu.
Got pless your majesty!
K. Hen.
How now, Fluellen? cam'st thou from the
bridge?
Flu.
Ay, so please your majesty. The duke of Exeter
has very gallantly maintained 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.
-- 517 --
K. Hen.
What men have you lost, Fluellen?
Flu.
The perdition of th' athversary hath been very
great, 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
plows 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. Hen.
We would have all such offenders so cut
off: and we give express charge, that in our marches
through the country, there be nothing compelled from
the villages, nothing taken but paid for; none of the
French upbraided, or abused in disdainful language, for
when lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom1 note, the gentler
gamester is the soonest winner.
Tucket. Enter Montjoy.
Mont.
You know me by my habit.
K. Hen.
Well then, I know thee: what shall I know of thee?
Mont.
My master's mind.
K. Hen.
Unfold it.
Mont.
Thus says my king:—Say thou to Harry of
England, Though we seemed dead, we did but sleep;
advantage is a better soldier than rashness. Tell him,
we could have rebuked 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
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 borne, the subjects we have lost, the
-- 518 --
disgrace we have digested; which, in weight to reanswer,
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 betrayed his
followers, whose condemnation is pronounced. So far
my king and master: so much my office.
K. Hen.
What is thy name? I know thy quality.
Mont.
Montjoy.
K. Hen.
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,
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;
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, 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,
-- 519 --
Nor, as we are, we say, we will not shun it:
So tell your master.
Mont.
I shall deliver so. Thanks to your highness.
[Exit Montjoy.
Glo.
I hope they will not come upon us now.
K. Hen.
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.
SCENE VII.
The French Camp, near Agincourt.
Enter the Constable of France, the Lord Rambures, the
Duke of Orleans, the Dauphin, and 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.
Con.
It is the best horse of Europe.
Orl.
Will it never be morning?
Dau.
My lord of Orleans, and my lord high constable,
you talk of horse and armour—
Orl.
You are as well provided of both as any prince
in the world.
Dau.
What a long night is this!—I will not change
my horse with any that treads but on four pasterns2 note.
Ça, ha! He bounds from the earth, as if his entrails
were hairs; 11Q0672 le cheval volant, the Pegasus, qui a les narines
de feu! When I bestride him, I soar, I am a hawk:
he trots the air; the earth sings when he touches it:
-- 520 --
the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the
pipe of Hermes.
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, but only
in patient stillness, while his rider mounts him: he
is, indeed, a horse; and all other jades you may call
beasts.
Con.
Indeed, my lord, it is a most absolute and
excellent horse.
Dau.
It is the prince of palfreys: his neigh is like
the bidding of a monarch, and his countenance enforces
homage.
Orl.
No more, cousin.
Dau.
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: “Wonder of Nature!”—
Orl.
I have heard a sonnet begin so to one's mistress.
Dau.
Then did they imitate that which I composed
to my courser; for my horse is my mistress.
Orl.
Your mistress bears well.
Dau.
Me well; which is the prescript praise, and
perfection of a good and particular mistress.
Con.
Nay, for methought yesterday, your mistress
shrewdly shook your back.
Dau.
So, perhaps, did yours.
Con.
Mine was not bridled.
Dau.
O! then, belike, she was old and gentle; and
-- 521 --
you rode, like a kern of Ireland, your French hose off,
and in your strait trossers3 note.
Con.
You have good judgment in horsemanship.
Dau.
Be warned by me, then: they that ride so, and
ride not warily, fall into foul bogs. I had rather have
my horse to my mistress.
Con.
I had as lief have my mistress a jade.
Dau.
I tell thee, constable, my mistress wears his
own hair4 note.
Con.
I could make as true a boast as that, if I had a
sow to my mistress.
Dau.
Le chien est retourné à son propre vomissement, et
la truie lavée au bourbier: thou makest use of any thing.
Con.
Yet do I not use my horse for my mistress; or
any such proverb, so little kin to the purpose.
Ram.
My lord constable, the armour, that I saw in
your tent to-night, are those stars, or suns, upon it?
Con.
Stars, my lord.
Dau.
Some of them will fall to-morrow, I hope.
Con.
And yet my sky shall not want.
Dau.
That may be; for you bear a many superfluously,
and 'twere more honour some were away.
Con.
Even as your horse bears your praises: who
would trot as well, were some of your brags dismounted.
Dau.
Would, I were able to load him with his
-- 522 --
desert! 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 should be faced 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
prisoners?
Con.
You must first go yourself to hazard, ere you
have them.
Dau.
'Tis midnight: I'll go arm myself.
[Exit.
Orl.
The Dauphin longs for morning.
Ram.
He longs to eat the English.
Con.
I think he will eat all he kills.
Orl.
By the white hand of my lady, he's a gallant
prince.
Con.
Swear by her foot, that she may tread out the
oath.
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
cared not who knew it.
Orl.
He needs not; it is no hidden virtue in him.
Con.
By my faith, sir, but it is; never any body saw
it, but his lackey: 'tis a hooded valour, and when it
appears it will bate5 note.
Orl.
Ill will never said well.
-- 523 --
Con.
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 placed: there stands your friend for the
devil: have at the very eye of that proverb, with—a
pox of 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 overshot.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess.
My lord high constable, the English lie within
fifteen hundred paces of your tents.
Con.
Who hath measured the ground?
Mess.
The lord Grandpré.
Con.
A valiant and most expert gentleman.—Would
it were day!—Alas, poor Harry of England!—he longs
not for the dawning, as we do.
Orl.
What a wretched and peevish fellow6 note is this
king of England, to mope with his fat-brained followers
so far out of his knowledge.
Con.
If the English had any apprehension, they
would run away.
Orl.
That they lack; for if their heads had any
intellectual armour, they could never wear such heavy
head-pieces.
Ram.
That island of England breeds very valiant
creatures: their mastiffs are of unmatchable courage.
Orl.
Foolish curs! that run winking into the mouth
of a Russian bear, and have their heads crushed like
rotten apples. You may as well say, that's a valiant
flea, that dare eat his breakfast on the lip of a lion.
Con.
Just, just; and the men do sympathize with
-- 524 --
the mastiffs in robustious and rough coming on, leaving
their wits with their wives: and, then, give them great
meals of beef, and iron and steel, they will eat like
wolves, and fight like devils.
Orl.
Ay, but these English are shrewdly out of beef.
Con.
Then shall we find to-morrow they have only
stomachs to eat, and none to fight. Now is it time to
arm: come, shall we about it?
Orl.
It is now two o'clock: but, let me see, by ten,
We shall have each a hundred Englishmen.
[Exeunt.
J. Payne Collier [1842–1844], The works of William Shakespeare. The text formed from an entirely new collation of the old editions: with the various readings, notes, a life of the poet, and a history of the Early English stage. By J. Payne Collier, Esq. F.S.A. In eight volumes (Whittaker & Co. [etc.], London) [word count] [S10101].
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