DRAMATIS PERSONA
CHORUS
KING HENRY THE FIFTH
DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, brother to the King
DUKE OF BEDFORD," " ""
DUKE OF EXETER, Uncle to the King
DUKE OF YORK, cousin to the King
EARL OF SALISBURY
EARL OF WESTMORELAND
EARL OF WARWICK
ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY
BISHOP OF ELY
EARL OF CAMBRIDGE, conspirator against the King
LORD SCROOP," " ""
SIR THOMAS GREY," " ""
SIR THOMAS ERPINGHAM, officer in the King's army
GOWER, " " "" "
FLUELLEN," " "" "
MACMORRIS, " " "" "
JAMY," " "" "
BATES,soldier in the King's army
COURT,"""" "
WILLIAMS,"""" "
NYM, """" "
BARDOLPH,"""" "
PISTOL, """" "
BOYA HERALD
CHARLES THE SIXTH, King of France
LEWIS, the DauphinDUKE OF BURGUNDY
DUKE OF ORLEANSDUKE OF BRITAINE
DUKE OF BOURBONTHE CONSTABLE OF FRANCE
RAMBURES, French Lord
GRANDPRE,""
GOVERNOR OF HARFLEUR MONTJOY, a French herald
AMBASSADORS to the King of England
ISABEL, Queen of France
KATHERINE, daughter to Charles and Isabel
ALICE, a lady attending her
HOSTESS of the Boar's Head, Eastcheap; formerly Mrs. Quickly, now married to
Pistol
Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, Attendants
SCENE:
England and France
PROLOGUE
PROLOGUE.
Enter CHORUS
CHORUS. O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of
invention, A kingdom for a stage, princes to act, And monarchs to behold the
swelling scene! Then should the warlike Harry, like himself, Assume the port of
Mars; and at his heels, Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword, and fire,
Crouch for employment. But pardon, gentles all, The flat unraised spirits that
hath dar'd On this unworthy scaffold to bring forth So great an object. Can this
cockpit hold The vasty fields of France? Or may we cram Within this wooden O the
very casques That did affright the air at Agincourt? O, pardon! since a crooked
figure may Attest in little place a million; And let us, ciphers to this great
accompt, On your imaginary forces work. Suppose within the girdle of these walls
Are now confin'd two mighty monarchies, Whose high upreared and abutting fronts
The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder. Piece out our imperfections with your
thoughts: Into a thousand parts divide one man, And make imaginary puissance;
Think, when we talk of horses, that you see them Printing their proud hoofs i'
th' receiving earth; For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings, Carry
them here and there, jumping o'er times, Turning th' accomplishment of many
years Into an hour-glass; for the which supply, Admit me Chorus to this history;
Who prologue-like, your humble patience pray Gently to hear, kindly to judge,
our play.Exit
ACT I. SCENE I.
London. An ante-chamber in the KING'S palace
Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY and the BISHOP OF ELY
CANTERBURY. My lord, I'll tell you: that self bill is urg'd Which in th'
eleventh year of the last king's reign Was like, and had indeed against us
pass'd But that the scambling and unquiet time Did push it out of farther
question.
ELY. But how, my lord, shall we resist it now?
CANTERBURY. It must be thought on. If it pass against us, We lose the better
half of our possession; For all the temporal lands which men devout By testament
have given to the church Would they strip from us; being valu'd thus- As much as
would maintain, to the King's honour, Full fifteen earls and fifteen hundred
knights, Six thousand and two hundred good esquires; And, to relief of lazars
and weak age, Of indigent faint souls, past corporal toil, A hundred alms-houses
right well supplied; And to the coffers of the King, beside, A thousand pounds
by th' year: thus runs the bill.
ELY. This would drink deep.
CANTERBURY. 'T would drink the cup and all.
ELY. But what prevention?
CANTERBURY. The King is full of grace and fair regard.
ELY. And a true lover of the holy Church.
CANTERBURY. The courses of his youth promis'd it not. The breath no sooner
left his father's body But that his wildness, mortified in him, Seem'd to die
too; yea, at that very moment, Consideration like an angel came And whipp'd th'
offending Adam out of him, Leaving his body as a paradise T'envelop and contain
celestial spirits. Never was such a sudden scholar made; Never came reformation
in a flood, With such a heady currance, scouring faults; Nor never Hydra-headed
wilfulnes So soon did lose his seat, and all at once, As in this king.
ELY. We are blessed in the change.
CANTERBURY. Hear him but reason in divinity, And, all-admiring, with an
inward wish You would desire the King were made a prelate; Hear him debate of
commonwealth affairs, You would say it hath been all in all his study; List his
discourse of war, and you shall hear A fearful battle rend'red you in music.
Turn him to any cause of policy, The Gordian knot of it he will unloose,
Familiar as his garter; that, when he speaks, The air, a charter'd libertine, is
still, And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears To steal his sweet and honey'd
sentences; So that the art and practic part of life Must be the mistress to this
theoric; Which is a wonder how his Grace should glean it, Since his addiction
was to courses vain, His companies unletter'd, rude, and shallow, His hours
fill'd up with riots, banquets, sports; And never noted in him any study, Any
retirement, any sequestration From open haunts and popularity.
ELY. The strawberry grows underneath the nettle, And wholesome berries thrive
and ripen best Neighbour'd by fruit of baser quality; And so the Prince obscur'd
his contemplation Under the veil of wildness; which, no doubt, Grew like the
summer grass, fastest by night, Unseen, yet crescive in his faculty.
CANTERBURY. It must be so; for miracles are ceas'd; And therefore we must
needs admit the means How things are perfected.
ELY. But, my good lord, How now for mitigation of this bill Urg'd by the
Commons? Doth his Majesty Incline to it, or no?
CANTERBURY. He seems indifferent Or rather swaying more upon our part Than
cherishing th' exhibiters against us; For I have made an offer to his Majesty-
Upon our spiritual convocation And in regard of causes now in hand, Which I have
open'd to his Grace at large, As touching France- to give a greater sum Than
ever at one time the clergy yet Did to his predecessors part withal.
ELY. How did this offer seem receiv'd, my lord?
CANTERBURY. With good acceptance of his Majesty; Save that there was not time
enough to hear, As I perceiv'd his Grace would fain have done, The severals and
unhidden passages Of his true tides to some certain dukedoms, And generally to
the crown and seat of France, Deriv'd from Edward, his great-grandfather.
ELY. What was th' impediment that broke this off?
CANTERBURY. The French ambassador upon that instant Crav'd audience; and the
hour, I think, is come To give him hearing: is it four o'clock?
ELY. It is.
CANTERBURY. Then go we in, to know his embassy; Which I could with a ready
guess declare, Before the Frenchman speak a word of it.
ELY. I'll wait upon you, and I long to hear it. Exeunt
SCENE II.
London. The Presence Chamber in the KING'S palace
Enter the KING, GLOUCESTER, BEDFORD, EXETER, WARWICK,
WESTMORELAND, and attendants
KING HENRY. Where is my gracious Lord of Canterbury?
EXETER. Not here in presence.
KING HENRY. Send for him, good uncle.
WESTMORELAND. Shall we call in th' ambassador, my liege?
KING HENRY. Not yet, my cousin; we would be resolv'd, Before we hear him, of
some things of weight That task our thoughts, concerning us and France.
Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY and the BISHOP OF ELY
CANTERBURY. God and his angels guard your sacred throne, And make you long
become it!
KING HENRY. Sure, we thank you. My learned lord, we pray you to proceed, And
justly and religiously unfold Why the law Salique, that they have in France, Or
should or should not bar us in our claim; And God forbid, my dear and faithful
lord, That you should fashion, wrest, or bow your reading, Or nicely charge your
understanding soul With opening titles miscreate whose right Suits not in native
colours with the truth; For God doth know how many, now in health, Shall drop
their blood in approbation Of what your reverence shall incite us to. Therefore
take heed how you impawn our person, How you awake our sleeping sword of war- We
charge you, in the name of God, take heed; For never two such kingdoms did
contend Without much fall of blood; whose guiltless drops Are every one a woe, a
sore complaint, 'Gainst him whose wrongs gives edge unto the swords That makes
such waste in brief mortality. Under this conjuration speak, my lord; For we
will hear, note, and believe in heart, That what you speak is in your conscience
wash'd As pure as sin with baptism.
CANTERBURY. Then hear me, gracious sovereign, and you peers, That owe
yourselves, your lives, and services, To this imperial throne. There is no bar
To make against your Highness' claim to France But this, which they produce from
Pharamond: 'In terram Salicam mulieres ne succedant'- 'No woman shall succeed in
Salique land'; Which Salique land the French unjustly gloze To be the realm of
France, and Pharamond The founder of this law and female bar. Yet their own
authors faithfully affirm That the land Salique is in Germany, Between the
floods of Sala and of Elbe; Where Charles the Great, having subdu'd the Saxons,
There left behind and settled certain French; Who, holding in disdain the German
women For some dishonest manners of their life, Establish'd then this law: to
wit, no female Should be inheritrix in Salique land; Which Salique, as I said,
'twixt Elbe and Sala, Is at this day in Germany call'd Meisen. Then doth it well
appear the Salique law Was not devised for the realm of France; Nor did the
French possess the Salique land Until four hundred one and twenty years After
defunction of King Pharamond, Idly suppos'd the founder of this law; Who died
within the year of our redemption Four hundred twenty-six; and Charles the Great
Subdu'd the Saxons, and did seat the French Beyond the river Sala, in the year
Eight hundred five. Besides, their writers say, King Pepin, which deposed
Childeric, Did, as heir general, being descended Of Blithild, which was daughter
to King Clothair, Make claim and title to the crown of France. Hugh Capet also,
who usurp'd the crown Of Charles the Duke of Lorraine, sole heir male Of the
true line and stock of Charles the Great, To find his title with some shows of
truth- Though in pure truth it was corrupt and naught- Convey'd himself as th'
heir to th' Lady Lingare, Daughter to Charlemain, who was the son To Lewis the
Emperor, and Lewis the son Of Charles the Great. Also King Lewis the Tenth, Who
was sole heir to the usurper Capet, Could not keep quiet in his conscience,
Wearing the crown of France, till satisfied That fair Queen Isabel, his
grandmother, Was lineal of the Lady Ermengare, Daughter to Charles the foresaid
Duke of Lorraine; By the which marriage the line of Charles the Great Was
re-united to the Crown of France. So that, as clear as is the summer's sun, King
Pepin's title, and Hugh Capet's claim, King Lewis his satisfaction, all appear
To hold in right and tide of the female; So do the kings of France unto this
day, Howbeit they would hold up this Salique law To bar your Highness claiming
from the female; And rather choose to hide them in a net Than amply to imbar
their crooked tides Usurp'd from you and your progenitors.
KING HENRY. May I with right and conscience make this claim?
CANTERBURY. The sin upon my head, dread sovereign! For in the book of Numbers
is it writ, When the man dies, let the inheritance Descend unto the daughter.
Gracious lord, Stand for your own, unwind your bloody flag, Look back into your
mighty ancestors. Go, my dread lord, to your great-grandsire's tomb, From whom
you claim; invoke his warlike spirit, And your great-uncle's, Edward the Black
Prince, Who on the French ground play'd a tragedy, Making defeat on the fun
power of France, Whiles his most mighty father on a hill Stood smiling to behold
his lion's whelp Forage in blood of French nobility. O noble English, that could
entertain With half their forces the full pride of France, And let another half
stand laughing by, All out of work and cold for action!
ELY. Awake remembrance of these valiant dead, And with your puissant arm
renew their feats. You are their heir; you sit upon their throne; The blood and
courage that renowned them Runs in your veins; and my thrice-puissant liege Is
in the very May-morn of his youth, Ripe for exploits and mighty enterprises.
EXETER. Your brother kings and monarchs of the earth Do all expect that you
should rouse yourself, As did the former lions of your blood.
WESTMORELAND. They know your Grace hath cause and means and might- So hath
your Highness; never King of England Had nobles richer and more loyal subjects,
Whose hearts have left their bodies here in England And lie pavilion'd in the
fields of France.
CANTERBURY. O, let their bodies follow, my dear liege, With blood and sword
and fire to win your right! In aid whereof we of the spiritualty Will raise your
Highness such a mighty sum As never did the clergy at one time Bring in to any
of your ancestors.
KING HENRY. We must not only arm t' invade the French, But lay down our
proportions to defend Against the Scot, who will make road upon us With all
advantages.
CANTERBURY. They of those marches, gracious sovereign, Shall be a wall
sufficient to defend Our inland from the pilfering borderers.
KING HENRY. We do not mean the coursing snatchers only, But fear the main
intendment of the Scot, Who hath been still a giddy neighbour to us; For you
shall read that my great-grandfather Never went with his forces into France But
that the Scot on his unfurnish'd kingdom Came pouring, like the tide into a
breach, With ample and brim fulness of his force, Galling the gleaned land with
hot assays, Girdling with grievous siege castles and towns; That England, being
empty of defence, Hath shook and trembled at th' ill neighbourhood.
CANTERBURY. She hath been then more fear'd than harm'd, my liege; For hear
her but exampled by herself: When all her chivalry hath been in France, And she
a mourning widow of her nobles, She hath herself not only well defended But
taken and impounded as a stray The King of Scots; whom she did send to France,
To fill King Edward's fame with prisoner kings, And make her chronicle as rich
with praise As is the ooze and bottom of the sea With sunken wreck and sumless
treasuries.
WESTMORELAND. But there's a saying, very old and true:
'If that you will France win,
Then with Scotland first begin.'
For once the eagle England being in prey, To her unguarded nest the weasel
Scot Comes sneaking, and so sucks her princely eggs, Playing the mouse in
absence of the cat, To tear and havoc more than she can eat.
EXETER. It follows, then, the cat must stay at home; Yet that is but a
crush'd necessity, Since we have locks to safeguard necessaries And pretty traps
to catch the petty thieves. While that the armed hand doth fight abroad, Th'
advised head defends itself at home; For government, though high, and low, and
lower, Put into parts, doth keep in one consent, Congreeing in a full and
natural close, Like music.
CANTERBURY. Therefore doth heaven divide The state of man in divers
functions, Setting endeavour in continual motion; To which is fixed as an aim or
but Obedience; for so work the honey bees, Creatures that by a rule in nature
teach The act of order to a peopled kingdom. They have a king, and officers of
sorts, Where some like magistrates correct at home; Others like merchants
venture trade abroad; Others like soldiers, armed in their stings, Make boot
upon the summer's velvet buds, Which pillage they with merry march bring home To
the tent-royal of their emperor; Who, busied in his majesty, surveys The singing
masons building roofs of gold, The civil citizens kneading up the honey, The
poor mechanic porters crowding in Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate, The
sad-ey'd justice, with his surly hum, Delivering o'er to executors pale The lazy
yawning drone. I this infer, That many things, having full reference To one
consent, may work contrariously; As many arrows loosed several ways Come to one
mark, as many ways meet in one town, As many fresh streams meet in one salt sea,
As many lines close in the dial's centre; So many a thousand actions, once
afoot, End in one purpose, and be all well home Without defeat. Therefore to
France, my liege. Divide your happy England into four; Whereof take you one
quarter into France, And you withal shall make all Gallia shake. If we, with
thrice such powers left at home, Cannot defend our own doors from the dog, Let
us be worried, and our nation lose The name of hardiness and policy.
KING HENRY. Call in the messengers sent from the Dauphin.
Exeunt some attendants Now are we well resolv'd; and, by God's help And
yours, the noble sinews of our power, France being ours, we'll bend it to our
awe, Or break it all to pieces; or there we'll sit, Ruling in large and ample
empery O'er France and all her almost kingly dukedoms, Or lay these bones in an
unworthy urn, Tombless, with no remembrance over them. Either our history shall
with full mouth Speak freely of our acts, or else our grave, Like Turkish mute,
shall have a tongueless mouth, Not worshipp'd with a waxen epitaph.
Enter AMBASSADORS of France
Now are we well prepar'd to know the pleasure Of our fair cousin Dauphin; for
we hear Your greeting is from him, not from the King.
AMBASSADOR. May't please your Majesty to give us leave Freely to render what
we have in charge; Or shall we sparingly show you far of The Dauphin's meaning
and our embassy?
KING HENRY. We are no tyrant, but a Christian king, Unto whose grace our
passion is as subject As are our wretches fett'red in our prisons; Therefore
with frank and with uncurbed plainness Tell us the Dauphin's mind.
AMBASSADOR. Thus then, in few. Your Highness, lately sending into France, Did
claim some certain dukedoms in the right Of your great predecessor, King Edward
the Third. In answer of which claim, the Prince our master Says that you savour
too much of your youth, And bids you be advis'd there's nought in France That
can be with a nimble galliard won; You cannot revel into dukedoms there. He
therefore sends you, meeter for your spirit, This tun of treasure; and, in lieu
of this, Desires you let the dukedoms that you claim Hear no more of you. This
the Dauphin speaks.
KING HENRY. What treasure, uncle?
EXETER. Tennis-balls, my liege.
KING HENRY. We are glad the Dauphin is so pleasant with us; His present and
your pains we thank you for. When we have match'd our rackets to these balls, We
will in France, by God's grace, play a set Shall strike his father's crown into
the hazard. Tell him he hath made a match with such a wrangler That all the
courts of France will be disturb'd With chaces. And we understand him well, How
he comes o'er us with our wilder days, Not measuring what use we made of them.
We never valu'd this poor seat of England; And therefore, living hence, did give
ourself To barbarous licence; as 'tis ever common That men are merriest when
they are from home. But tell the Dauphin I will keep my state, Be like a king,
and show my sail of greatness, When I do rouse me in my throne of France; For
that I have laid by my majesty And plodded like a man for working-days; But I
will rise there with so full a glory That I will dazzle all the eyes of France,
Yea, strike the Dauphin blind to look on us. And tell the pleasant Prince this
mock of his Hath turn'd his balls to gun-stones, and his soul Shall stand sore
charged for the wasteful vengeance That shall fly with them; for many a thousand
widows Shall this his mock mock of their dear husbands; Mock mothers from their
sons, mock castles down; And some are yet ungotten and unborn That shall have
cause to curse the Dauphin's scorn. But this lies all within the will of God, To
whom I do appeal; and in whose name, Tell you the Dauphin, I am coming on, To
venge me as I may and to put forth My rightful hand in a well-hallow'd cause. So
get you hence in peace; and tell the Dauphin His jest will savour but of shallow
wit, When thousands weep more than did laugh at it. Convey them with safe
conduct. Fare you well.
Exeunt AMBASSADORS
EXETER. This was a merry message.
KING HENRY. We hope to make the sender blush at it. Therefore, my lords, omit
no happy hour That may give furth'rance to our expedition; For we have now no
thought in us but France, Save those to God, that run before our business.
Therefore let our proportions for these wars Be soon collected, and all things
thought upon That may with reasonable swiftness ad More feathers to our wings;
for, God before, We'll chide this Dauphin at his father's door. Therefore let
every man now task his thought That this fair action may on foot be brought.
Exeunt ACT II. PROLOGUE.
Flourish. Enter CHORUS
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 mightst 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 treacherous crowns; and three corrupted men- One,
Richard Earl of Cambridge, and the second, Henry Lord Scroop of Masham, and the
third, Sir Thomas Grey, 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, Ere he
take ship for France- and in Southampton. Linger your patience on, and we'll
digest Th' abuse of distance, 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 I.
London. Before the Boar's Head Tavern, Eastcheap
Enter CORPORAL NYM and LIEUTENANT BARDOLPH
BARDOLPH. Well met, Corporal Nym.
NYM. Good morrow, Lieutenant Bardolph.
BARDOLPH. What, are Ancient Pistol and you friends yet?
NYM. For my part, I care not; I say little, but when time shall serve, there
shall be smiles- but that shall be as it may. I dare not fight; but I will wink
and hold out mine iron. It is a simple one; but what though? It will toast
cheese, and it will endure cold as another man's sword will; and there's an end.
BARDOLPH. I will bestow a breakfast to make you friends; and we'll be all
three sworn brothers to France. Let't be so, good Corporal Nym.
NYM. Faith, I will live so long as I may, that's the certain of it; and when
I cannot live any longer, I will do as I may. That is my rest, that is the
rendezvous of it.
BARDOLPH. It is certain, Corporal, that he is married to Nell Quickly; and
certainly she did you wrong, for you were troth-plight to her.
NYM. I cannot tell; things must be as they may. Men may sleep, and they may
have their throats about them at that time; and some say knives have edges. It
must be as it may; though patience be a tired mare, yet she will plod. There
must be conclusions. Well, I cannot tell.
Enter PISTOL and HOSTESS
BARDOLPH. Here comes Ancient Pistol and his wife. Good Corporal, be patient
here.
NYM. How now, mine host Pistol!
PISTOL. Base tike, call'st thou me host? Now by this hand, I swear I scorn
the term; Nor shall my Nell keep lodgers.
HOSTESS. 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. [Nym draws] O well-a-day, Lady,
if he be not drawn! Now we shall see wilful adultery and murder committed.
BARDOLPH. Good Lieutenant, good Corporal, offer nothing here.
NYM. Pish!
PISTOL. Pish for thee, Iceland dog! thou prick-ear'd cur of Iceland!
HOSTESS. Good Corporal Nym, show thy valour, and put up your sword.
NYM. Will you shog off? I would have you solus.
PISTOL. 'Solus,' egregious dog? O viper vile! The 'solus' in thy most
mervailous 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.
NYM. 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 thaes the humour of it.
PISTOL. O braggart vile and damned furious wight! The grave doth gape and
doting death is near; Therefore exhale. [PISTOL draws]
BARDOLPH. 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.
[Draws]
PISTOL. An oath of mickle might; and fury shall abate. [PISTOL and Nym
sheathe their swords] Give me thy fist, thy fore-foot to me give; Thy spirits
are most tall.
NYM. I will cut thy throat one time or other, in fair terms; that is the
humour of it.
PISTOL. 'Couple a gorge!' That is the word. I thee defy again. O hound of
Crete, think'st thou my spouse to get? No; to the spital go, And from the
powd'ring tub of infamy Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid's kind, Doll
Tearsheet she by name, and her espouse. I have, and I will hold, the quondam
Quickly For the 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 face between his sheets, and
do the office of a warming-pan. Faith, he's very ill.
BARDOLPH. Away, you rogue.
HOSTESS. 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.Exeunt HOSTESS and
BOY
BARDOLPH. 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?
PISTOL. Let floods o'erswell, and fiends for food howl on!
NYM. You'll pay me the eight shillings I won of you at betting?
PISTOL. Base is the slave that pays.
NYM. That now I will have; that's the humour of it.
PISTOL. As manhood shall compound: push home. [PISTOL and Nym draw]
BARDOLPH. By this sword, he that makes the first thrust I'll kill him; by
this sword, I will.
PISTOL. Sword is an oath, and oaths must have their course. [Sheathes his
sword]
BARDOLPH. Corporal Nym, an thou wilt be friends, be friends; an thou wilt
not, why then be enemies with me too. Prithee put up.
NYM. I shall have my eight shillings I won of you at betting?
PISTOL. 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 Nym
and Nym shall live by me. Is not this just? For I shall sutler be Unto the camp,
and profits will accrue. Give me thy hand.
NYM. [Sheathing his sword] I shall have my noble?
PISTOL. In cash most justly paid.
NYM. [Shaking hands] Well, then, that's the humour of't.
Re-enter HOSTESS
HOSTESS. As ever you come 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.
NYM. The King hath run bad humours on the knight; that's the even of it.
PISTOL. Nym, thou hast spoke the right; His heart is fracted and corroborate.
NYM. The King is a good king, but it must be as it may; he passes some
humours and careers.
PISTOL. Let us condole the knight; for, lambkins, we will live.
Exeunt SCENE II. Southampton. A council-chamber
Enter EXETER, BEDFORD, and WESTMORELAND
BEDFORD. Fore God, his Grace is bold, to trust these traitors.
EXETER. They shall be apprehended by and by.
WESTMORELAND. How smooth and even they do bear themselves, As if allegiance
in their bosoms sat, Crowned with faith and constant loyalty!
BEDFORD. The King hath note of all that they intend, By interception which
they dream not of.
EXETER. Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow, Whom he hath dull'd and
cloy'd with gracious favours- That he should, for a foreign purse, so sell His
sovereign's life to death and treachery!
Trumpets sound. Enter the KING, SCROOP,
CAMBRIDGE, GREY, and attendants
KING HENRY. Now sits the wind fair, and we will aboard. My Lord of Cambridge,
and my kind 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.
KING 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; Nor leave
not one behind that doth not wish Success and conquest to attend on us.
CAMBRIDGE. Never was monarch better fear'd and lov'd Than is your Majesty.
There's not, I think, a subject That sits in heart-grief and uneasines Under the
sweet shade of your government.
GREY. True: those that were your father's enemies Have steep'd their galls in
honey, and do serve you With hearts create of duty and of zeal.
KING 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
itself with hope, To do your Grace incessant services.
KING HENRY. We judge no less. Uncle of Exeter, Enlarge 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, sovereign,
lest example Breed, by his sufferance, more of such a kind.
KING HENRY. O, let us yet be merciful!
CAMBRIDGE. So may your Highness, and yet punish too.
GREY. Sir, You show great mercy if you give him life, After the taste of much
correction.
KING 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 yet enlarge that man, Though Cambridge,
Scroop, and Grey, in their dear care And tender preservation of our person,
Would have him punish'd. And now to our French causes: Who are the late
commissioners?
CAMBRIDGE. I one, my lord. Your Highness bade me ask for it to-day.
SCROOP. So did you me, my liege.
GREY. And I, my royal sovereign.
KING 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 Westmoreland, 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 have so cowarded and chas'd your
blood Out of appearance?
CAMBRIDGE. I do confess my fault, And do submit me to your Highness' mercy.
GREY, SCROOP. To which we all appeal.
KING 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 into your bosoms As dogs upon their masters, worrying you. See
you, my princes and my noble peers, These English monsters! My Lord of Cambridge
here- You know how apt our love was to accord To furnish him with an
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 mightst
have coin'd me into gold, Wouldst 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 stands off
as gross As black and white, my eye will scarcely see it. Treason and murder
ever kept together, As two yoke-devils sworn to either's purpose, Working so
grossly in a natural cause That admiration did not whoop at them; But thou,
'gainst all proportion, didst bring in Wonder to wait on treason and on murder;
And whatsoever cunning fiend it was That wrought upon thee so preposterously
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 fetch'd From glist'ring semblances of piety; But he that temper'd thee
bade thee stand up, Gave thee no instance why thou shouldst do treason, Unless
to dub thee with the name of traitor. If that same demon that hath gull'd thee
thus Should with his lion gait walk the whole world, He might return to vasty
Tartar back, And tell the legions 'I can never win A soul so easy as that
Englishman's.' O, how hast thou with jealousy infected The sweetness of
affiance! Show men dutiful? Why, so didst thou. 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, not 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 bolted
didst thou seem; And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot To mark the
full-fraught man and best indued 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!
EXETER. I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Richard Earl
of Cambridge. I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Henry 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.
CAMBRIDGE. 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 sufferance heartily will rejoice, 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 joy o'er myself, Prevented from a
damned enterprise. My fault, but not my body, pardon, sovereign.
KING HENRY. God quit you in his mercy! Hear your sentence. You have conspir'd
against our royal person, Join'd with an enemy proclaim'd, 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 have
sought, that to her laws We do deliver you. Get you 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 CAMBRIDGE, SCROOP, and GREY, guarded Now, lords, for France; the
enterprise 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 beginnings; we doubt not now But every
rub is smoothed on our way. Then, forth, dear countrymen; let us deliver Our
puissance into the hand of God, Putting it straight in expedition. Cheerly to
sea; the signs of war advance; No king of England, if not king of France!
Flourish. Exeunt
SCENE III. Eastcheap. Before the Boar's Head tavern
Enter PISTOL, HOSTESS, NYM, BARDOLPH, and Boy
HOSTESS. Prithee, honey-sweet husband, let me bring thee to
Staines.
PISTOL. No; for my manly heart doth earn. Bardolph, be blithe; Nym, rouse thy
vaunting veins; Boy, bristle thy courage up. For Falstaff he is dead, And we
must earn therefore.
BARDOLPH. Would I were with him, wheresome'er he is, either in heaven or in
hell!
HOSTESS. Nay, sure, he's not in hell: he's in Arthur's bosom, if ever man
went to Arthur's bosom. 'A made a finer end, and went away an it had been any
christom child; 'a parted ev'n just between twelve and one, ev'n at the turning
o' th' tide; for after I saw him fumble with the sheets, and play with flowers,
and smile upon his fingers' end, I knew there was but one way; for his nose was
as sharp as a pen, and 'a babbl'd of green fields. 'How now, Sir John!' quoth I
'What, man, be o' 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 bade me lay
more clothes on his feet; I put my hand into the bed and felt them, and they
were as cold as any stone; then I felt to his knees, and so upward and upward,
and all was as cold as any stone.
NYM. They say he cried out of sack.
HOSTESS. Ay, that 'a did.
BARDOLPH. And of women.
HOSTESS. Nay, that 'a did not.
BOY. Yes, that 'a did, and said they were devils incarnate.
HOSTESS. 'A could never abide carnation; 'twas a colour he never liked.
BOY. 'A said once the devil would have him about women.
HOSTESS. 'A did in some sort, indeed, handle women; but then he was
rheumatic, and talk'd of the Whore of Babylon.
BOY. Do you not remember 'a saw a flea stick upon Bardolph's nose, and 'a
said it was a black soul burning in hell?
BARDOLPH. Well, the fuel is gone that maintain'd that fire: that's all the
riches I got in his service.
NYM. Shall we shog? The King will be gone from Southampton.
PISTOL. Come, let's away. My love, give me thy lips. Look to my chattles 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 Holdfast is the only dog, my
duck. Therefore, Caveto be thy counsellor. Go, clear thy crystals. 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 unwholesome food, they say.
PISTOL. Touch her soft mouth and march.
BARDOLPH. Farewell, hostess. [Kissing her]
NYM. I cannot kiss, that is the humour of it; but adieu.
PISTOL. Let housewifery appear; keep close, I thee command.
HOSTESS. Farewell; adieu.Exeunt
SCENE IV. France. The KING'S palace
Flourish. Enter the FRENCH KING, the DAUPHIN, the DUKES OF BERRI and
BRITAINE, the CONSTABLE,
and others
FRENCH KING. Thus comes the English with full power upon us; And more than
carefully it us concerns To answer royally in our defences. Therefore the Dukes
of Berri and of Britaine, 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.
DAUPHIN. My most redoubted father, It is most meet we arm us 'gainst the foe;
For peace itself should not so dull a kingdom, Though 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 show of fear- No, with no more than if we heard that
England Were busied with a Whitsun morris-dance; For, my good liege, she is so
idly king'd, Her sceptre so fantastically borne By a vain, giddy, shallow,
humorous youth, That fear attends her not.
CONSTABLE. O peace, Prince Dauphin! You are too much mistaken in this king.
Question your Grace the late ambassadors With what great state he heard their
embassy, How well supplied with noble counsellors, How modest in exception, and
withal How terrible in constant resolution, And you shall find his vanities
forespent Were but the outside 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.
DAUPHIN. Well, 'tis not so, my Lord High Constable; But though we think it
so, it is no matter. In cases 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.
FRENCH 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 battle fatally was struck, And all our princes
capdv'd by the hand Of that black name, Edward, Black Prince of Wales; Whiles
that his mountain sire- on mountain standing, Up in the air, crown'd with the
golden sun- Saw his heroical 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 stern Of that victorious stock; and let us fear The
native mightiness and fate of him.
Enter a MESSENGER
MESSENGER. Ambassadors from Harry King of England Do crave admittance to your
Majesty.
FRENCH KING. We'll give them present audience. Go and bring them.
Exeunt MESSENGER and certain LORDS You see this chase is hotly followed,
friends.
DAUPHIN. Turn head and stop pursuit; for coward dogs Most spend their mouths
when what they seem to threaten Runs far before them. Good my sovereign, 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.
Re-enter LORDS, with EXETER and train
FRENCH KING. From our brother of England?
EXETER. From him, and thus he greets your Majesty: He wills you, in the name
of God Almighty, That you divest yourself, and lay apart The borrowed glories
that by gift of heaven, By law of nature and of nations, 'longs To him and to
his heirs- namely, the crown, And all wide-stretched 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,[Gives a paper] In every branch truly demonstrative; Willing
you overlook this 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.
FRENCH KING. Or else what follows?
EXETER. Bloody constraint; for if you hide the crown Even in your hearts,
there will he rake for it. Therefore in fierce tempest is he coming, In thunder
and in earthquake, like a Jove, That if requiring fail, he will compel; And 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; and on your head
Turning the widows' tears, the orphans' cries, The dead men's blood, the privy
maidens' groans, For husbands, fathers, and betrothed lovers, That shall be
swallowed in this controversy. This is his claim, his threat'ning, and my
message; Unless the Dauphin be in presence here, To whom expressly I bring
greeting too.
FRENCH KING. For us, we will consider of this further; To-morrow shall you
bear our full intent Back to our brother of England.
DAUPHIN. For the Dauphin: I stand here for him. What to him from England?
EXETER. Scorn and defiance, slight regard, contempt, And anything that may
not misbecome The mighty sender, doth he prize you at. Thus says my king: an 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 of it That
caves and womby vaultages of France Shall chide your trespass and return your
mock In second accent of his ordinance.
DAUPHIN. Say, if my father render fair return, 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 the Paris balls.
EXETER. 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; that you shall read In
your own losses, if he stay in France.
FRENCH KING. To-morrow shall you know our mind at full.
EXETER. Dispatch us with all speed, lest that our king Come here himself to
question our delay; For he is footed in this land already.
FRENCH 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.
Flourish. Exeunt ACT III. PROLOGUE.
Flourish. Enter CHORUS
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 Hampton pier Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet With silken
streamers the young Phorbus 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, Borne with th'
invisible and creeping wind, Draw the huge bottoms through the furrowed 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, 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; Tells Harry that the King doth offer him Katherine 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 off] And down goes an before them. Still be kind, And
eke out our performance with your mind. Exit
SCENE I. France. Before Harfleur
Alarum. Enter the KING, EXETER, BEDFORD, GLOUCESTER,
and soldiers with scaling-ladders
KING. 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 tiger: 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'erhang 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. On, on, you noblest English, Whose blood is fet 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.
Before Harfleur
Enter NYM, BARDOLPH, PISTOL, and BOY
BARDOLPH. 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 lives. The humour of it is too hot; that is the very
plain-song of it.
PISTOL. 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. Would I were in an alehouse in London! I wouid give all my fame for a
pot of ale and safety.
PISTOL. And I: If wishes would prevail with me, My purpose should not fail
with me, But thither would I hie.
BOY. As duly, but not as truly, As bird doth sing on bough.
Enter FLUELLEN
FLUELLEN. Up to the breach, you dogs! Avaunt, you cullions! [Driving them
forward]
PISTOL. 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 all but BOY
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 antics do not amount to a man. For Bardolph, he is
white-liver'd and red-fac'd; 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 anything, 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 coals.
They would have me as familiar with men's pockets as their gloves or their
handkerchers; 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
Re-enter FLUELLEN, GOWER following
GOWER. Captain Fluellen, you must come presently to the mines; the Duke of
Gloucester would speak with you.
FLUELLEN. 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 of it is not sufficient. For, look you, th' athversary- you may
discuss unto the Duke, look you- is digt himself four yard under the
countermines; by Cheshu, I think 'a will plow up all, if there is not better
directions.
GOWER. The Duke of Gloucester, to whom the order of the siege is given, is
altogether directed by an Irishman- a very vallant gentleman, i' faith.
FLUELLEN. It is Captain Macmorris, is it not?
GOWER. I think it be.
FLUELLEN. By Cheshu, he is an ass, as in the world: I will verify 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.
Enter MACMORRIS and CAPTAIN JAMY
GOWER. Here 'a comes; and the Scots captain, Captain Jamy, with him.
FLUELLEN. Captain Jamy is a marvellous falorous gentleman, that is certain,
and of great expedition and knowledge in th' aunchient 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 gud day, Captain Fluellen.
FLUELLEN. God-den to your worship, good Captain James.
GOWER. How now, Captain Macmorris! Have you quit the mines? Have the pioneers
given o'er?
MACMORRIS. By Chrish, la, tish ill done! The work ish give over, the trompet
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!
FLUELLEN. Captain Macmorris, I beseech you now, will you voutsafe me, look
you, a few disputations with you, 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 vary gud, gud feith, gud captains bath; and I sall quit you
with gud leve, as I may pick occasion; that sall I, marry.
MACMORRIS. 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 beseech'd, and the trumpet call us to the breach; and we
talk and, be 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 theise eyes of mine take themselves to slomber, ay'll
de gud service, or I'll lig i' th' grund for it; ay, or go to death. And I'll
pay't as valorously as I may, that sall I suerly do, that is the breff and the
long. Marry, I wad full fain heard some question 'tween you tway.
FLUELLEN. Captain Macmorris, I think, look you, under your correction, there
is not many of your nation-
MACMORRIS. 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?
FLUELLEN. 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 good a man as yourself,
both in the disciplines of war and in the derivation of my birth, and in other
particularities.
MACMORRIS. I do not know you so good a man as myself; so Chrish save me, I
will cut off your head.
GOWER. Gentlemen both, you will mistake each other.
JAMY. Ah! that's a foul fault. [A parley sounded]
GOWER. The town sounds a parley.
FLUELLEN. 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
war; and there is an end. Exeunt
SCENE III.
Before the gates of Harfleur
Enter the GOVERNOR and some citizens on the walls. Enter the KING and all his
train before the gates
KING HENRY. 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 batt'ry 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 flow'ring infants. What is it then to me
if impious war, Array'd in flames, like to the prince of fiends, Do, with his
smirch'd complexion, all fell feats 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 wickednes 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
murder, spoil, and villainy. If not- why, in a moment look to see The blind and
bloody with foul hand Defile the locks 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?
GOVERNOR. Our expectation hath this day an end: The Dauphin, whom of succours
we entreated, 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.
KING HENRY. Open your gates. [Exit GOVERNOR] 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
and his train enter the town] SCENE IV. Rouen. The FRENCH KING'S palace
Enter KATHERINE and ALICE
KATHERINE. Alice, tu as ete en Angleterre, et tu parles bien le langage.
ALICE. Un peu, madame.
KATHERINE. Je te prie, m'enseignez; il faut que j'apprenne a parler. Comment
appelez-vous la main en Anglais?
ALICE. La main? Elle est appelee de hand.
KATHERINE. De hand. Et les doigts?
ALICE. Les doigts? Ma foi, j'oublie les doigts; mais je me souviendrai. Les
doigts? Je pense qu'ils sont appeles de fingres; oui, de fingres.
KATHERINE. La main, de hand; les doigts, de fingres. Je pense que je suis le
bon ecolier; j'ai gagne deux mots d'Anglais vitement. Comment appelez-vous les
ongles?
ALICE. Les ongles? Nous les appelons de nails.
KATHERINE. De nails. Ecoutez; dites-moi si je parle bien: de hand, de
fingres, et de nails.
ALICE. C'est bien dit, madame; il est fort bon Anglais.
KATHERINE. Dites-moi l'Anglais pour le bras.
ALICE. De arm, madame.
KATHERINE. Et le coude?
ALICE. D'elbow.
KATHERINE. D'elbow. Je m'en fais la repetition de tous les mots que vous
m'avez appris des a present.
ALICE. Il est trop difficile, madame, comme je pense.
KATHERINE. Excusez-moi, Alice; ecoutez: d'hand, de fingre, de nails, d'arma,
de bilbow.
ALICE. D'elbow, madame.
KATHERINE. O Seigneur Dieu, je m'en oublie! D'elbow. Comment appelez-vous le
col?
ALICE. De nick, madame.
KATHERINE. De nick. Et le menton?
ALICE. De chin.
KATHERINE. De sin. Le col, de nick; le menton, de sin.
ALICE. Oui. Sauf votre honneur, en verite, vous prononcez les mots aussi
droit que les natifs d'Angleterre.
KATHERINE. Je ne doute point d'apprendre, par la grace de Dieu, et en peu de
temps.
ALICE. N'avez-vous pas deja oublie ce que je vous ai enseigne?
KATHERINE. Non, je reciterai a vous promptement: d'hand, de fingre, de mails-
ALICE. De nails, madame.
KATHERINE. De nails, de arm, de ilbow.
ALICE. Sauf votre honneur, d'elbow.
KATHERINE. Ainsi dis-je; d'elbow, de nick, et de sin. Comment appelez-vous le
pied et la robe?
ALICE. Le foot, madame; et le count.
KATHERINE. Le foot et le count. O Seigneur Dieu! ils sont mots de son
mauvais, corruptible, gros, et impudique, et non pour les dames d'honneur
d'user: je ne voudrais prononcer ces mots devant les seigneurs de France pour
tout le monde. Foh! le foot et le count! Neanmoins, je reciterai une autre fois
ma lecon ensemble: d'hand, de fingre, de nails, d'arm, d'elbow, de nick, de sin,
de foot, le count.
ALICE. Excellent, madame!
KATHERINE. C'est assez pour une fois: allons-nous a diner.
Exeunt SCENE V.
The FRENCH KING'S palace
Enter the KING OF FRANCE, the DAUPHIN, DUKE OF
BRITAINE, the CONSTABLE OF FRANCE, and others
FRENCH KING. 'Tis certain he hath pass'd the river Somme.
CONSTABLE. And if he be not fought withal, my lord, Let us not live in
France; let us quit an, And give our vineyards to a barbarous people.
DAUPHIN. 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?
BRITAINE. Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards! Mort Dieu, ma vie!
if they march along Unfought withal, but I will sell my dukedom To buy a
slobb'ry and a dirty farm In that nook-shotten isle of Albion.
CONSTABLE. Dieu de batailles! 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 call them
in their native lords!
DAUPHIN. 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.
BRITAINE. 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.
FRENCH KING. Where is Montjoy the herald? Speed him hence; Let him greet
England with our sharp defiance. Up, Princes, and, with spirit of honour edged
More sharper than your swords, hie to the field: Charles Delabreth, High
Constable of France; You Dukes of Orleans, Bourbon, and of Berri, Alengon,
Brabant, Bar, and Burgundy; Jaques Chatillon, Rambures, Vaudemont, Beaumont,
Grandpre, Roussi, and Fauconbridge, Foix, Lestrake, Bouciqualt, and Charolois;
High dukes, great princes, barons, lords, and knights, For your great seats now
quit you of great shames. 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.
CONSTABLE. 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.
FRENCH 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.
DAUPHIN. Not so, I do beseech your Majesty.
FRENCH 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 CAPTAINS, English and Welsh, GOWER and FLUELLEN
GOWER. How now, Captain Fluellen! Come you from the bridge?
FLUELLEN. I assure you there is very excellent services committed at the
bridge.
GOWER. Is the Duke of Exeter safe?
FLUELLEN. The Duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as Agamemnon; and a man that I
love and honour with my soul, and my heart, and my duty, and my live, and my
living, and my uttermost power. He is not- God be praised and blessed!- any hurt
in the world, but keeps the bridge most valiantly, with excellent discipline.
There is an aunchient Lieutenant there at the bridge- I think in my very
conscience he is as valiant a man as Mark Antony; and he is man of no estimation
in the world; but I did see him do as gallant service.
GOWER. What do you call him?
FLUELLEN. He is call'd Aunchient Pistol.
GOWER. I know him not.
Enter PISTOL
FLUELLEN. Here is the man.
PISTOL. Captain, I thee beseech to do me favours. The Duke of Exeter doth
love thee well.
FLUELLEN. Ay, I praise God; and I have merited some love at his hands.
PISTOL. 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-
FLUELLEN. By your patience, Aunchient Pistol. Fortune is painted blind, with
a muffler afore her eyes, to signify to you that Fortune is blind; 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.
PISTOL. Fortune is Bardolph's foe, and frowns on him; For he hath stol'n a
pax, and hanged must 'a be- A damned death! Let gallows gape for dog; let man go
free, And let not hemp his windpipe 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.
FLUELLEN. Aunchient Pistol, I do partly understand your meaning.
PISTOL. Why then, rejoice therefore.
FLUELLEN. Certainly, Aunchient, it is not a thing to rejoice at; for if, look
you, he were my brother, I would desire the Duke to use his good pleasure, and
put him to execution; for discipline ought to be used.
PISTOL. Die and be damn'd! and figo for thy friendship!
FLUELLEN. It is well.
PISTOL. The fig of Spain! Exit
FLUELLEN. Very good.
GOWER. Why, this is an arrant counterfeit rascal; I remember him now- a bawd,
a cutpurse.
FLUELLEN. I'll assure you, 'a utt'red 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.
GOWER. 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 disgrac'd, what terms the
enemy stood on; and this they con perfectly in the phrase of war, which they
trick up with new-tuned oaths; and what a beard of the General's cut and a
horrid suit of the camp will do among foaming 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.
FLUELLEN. 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 within] Hark you, the King is coming; and I must
speak with him from the pridge.
Drum and colours. Enter the KING and his poor soldiers,
and GLOUCESTER
God pless your Majesty!
KING HENRY. How now, Fluellen! Cam'st thou from the bridge?
FLUELLEN. 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 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.
KING HENRY. What men have you lost, Fluellen!
FLUELLEN. 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 o' 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.
KING HENRY. 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 paid for, none of the French upbraided or abused
in disdainful language; for when lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom the
gentler gamester is the soonest winner.
Tucket. Enter MONTJOY
MONTJOY. You know me by my habit.
KING HENRY. Well then, I know thee; what shall I know of thee?
MONTJOY. My master's mind.
KING HENRY. Unfold it.
MONTJOY. 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
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 disgrace we have digested;
which, in weight to re-answer, his pettiness would bow under. For our losses his
exchequer is too poor; for th' 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 pronounc'd. So
far my king and master; so much my office.
KING HENRY. What is thy name? I know thy quality.
MONTJOY. Montjoy.
KING 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, 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 hind'red, 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.
MONTJOY. I shall deliver so. Thanks to your Highness. Exit
GLOUCESTER. I hope they will not come upon us now.
KING 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 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, with others
CONSTABLE. Tut! I have the best armour of the world. Would it were day!
ORLEANS. You have an excellent armour; but let my horse have his due.
CONSTABLE. It is the best horse of Europe.
ORLEANS. Will it never be morning?
DAUPHIN. My Lord of Orleans and my Lord High Constable, you talk of horse and
armour?
ORLEANS. You are as well provided of both as any prince in the world.
DAUPHIN. What a long night is this! I will not change my horse with any that
treads but on four pasterns. Ca, ha! he bounds from the earth as if his entrails
were hairs; le cheval volant, the Pegasus, chez 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; the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes.
ORLEANS. He's of the colour of the nutmeg.
DAUPHIN. 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.
CONSTABLE. Indeed, my lord, it is a most absolute and excellent horse.
DAUPHIN. It is the prince of palfreys; his neigh is like the bidding of a
monarch, and his countenance enforces homage.
ORLEANS. No more, cousin.
DAUPHIN. 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'-
ORLEANS. I have heard a sonnet begin so to one's mistress.
DAUPHIN. Then did they imitate that which I compos'd to my courser; for my
horse is my mistress.
ORLEANS. Your mistress bears well.
DAUPHIN. Me well; which is the prescript praise and perfection of a good and
particular mistress.
CONSTABLE. Nay, for methought yesterday your mistress shrewdly shook your
back.
DAUPHIN. So perhaps did yours.
CONSTABLE. Mine was not bridled.
DAUPHIN. O, then belike she was old and gentle; and you rode like a kern of
Ireland, your French hose off and in your strait strossers.
CONSTABLE. You have good judgment in horsemanship.
DAUPHIN. 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.
CONSTABLE. I had as lief have my mistress a jade.
DAUPHIN. I tell thee, Constable, my mistress wears his own hair.
CONSTABLE. I could make as true a boast as that, if I had a sow to my
mistress.
DAUPHIN. 'Le chien est retourne a son propre vomissement, et la truie lavee
au bourbier.' Thou mak'st use of anything.
CONSTABLE. Yet do I not use my horse for my mistress, or any such proverb so
little kin to the purpose.
RAMBURES. My Lord Constable, the armour that I saw in your tent to-night- are
those stars or suns upon it?
CONSTABLE. Stars, my lord.
DAUPHIN. Some of them will fall to-morrow, I hope.
CONSTABLE. And yet my sky shan not want.
DAUPHIN. That may be, for you bear a many superfluously, and 'twere more
honour some were away.
CONSTABLE. Ev'n as your horse bears your praises, who would trot as well were
some of your brags dismounted.
DAUPHIN. Would I were able to load him with his desert! Will it never be day?
I will trot to-morrow a mile, and my way shall be paved with English faces.
CONSTABLE. I will not say so, for fear I should be fac'd out of my way; but I
would it were morning, for I would fain be about the ears of the English.
RAMBURES. Who will go to hazard with me for twenty prisoners?
CONSTABLE. You must first go yourself to hazard ere you have them.
DAUPHIN. 'Tis midnight; I'll go arm myself.Exit
ORLEANS. The Dauphin longs for morning.
RAMBURES. He longs to eat the English.
CONSTABLE. I think he will eat all he kills.
ORLEANS. By the white hand of my lady, he's a gallant prince.
CONSTABLE. Swear by her foot, that she may tread out the oath.
ORLEANS. He is simply the most active gentleman of France.
CONSTABLE. Doing is activity, and he will still be doing.
ORLEANS. He never did harm that I heard of.
CONSTABLE. Nor will do none to-morrow: he will keep that good name still.
ORLEANS. I know him to be valiant.
CONSTABLE. I was told that by one that knows him better than you.
ORLEANS. What's he?
CONSTABLE. Marry, he told me so himself; and he said he car'd not who knew
it.
ORLEANS. He needs not; it is no hidden virtue in him.
CONSTABLE. By my faith, sir, but it is; never anybody saw it but
his lackey. 'Tis a hooded valour, and when it appears it will bate.
ORLEANS. Ill-wind never said well.
CONSTABLE. I will cap that proverb with 'There is flattery in friendship.'
ORLEANS. And I will take up that with 'Give the devil his due.'
CONSTABLE. Well plac'd! There stands your friend for the devil; have at the
very eye of that proverb with 'A pox of the devil!'
ORLEANS. You are the better at proverbs by how much 'A fool's bolt is soon
shot.'
CONSTABLE. You have shot over.
ORLEANS. 'Tis not the first time you were overshot.
Enter a MESSENGER
MESSENGER. My Lord High Constable, the English lie within fifteen hundred
paces of your tents.
CONSTABLE. Who hath measur'd the ground?
MESSENGER. The Lord Grandpre.
CONSTABLE. A valiant and most expert gentleman. Would it were day! Alas, poor
Harry of England! he longs not for the dawning as we do.
ORLEANS. What a wretched and peevish fellow is this King of England, to mope
with his fat-brain'd followers so far out of his knowledge!
CONSTABLE. If the English had any apprehension, they would run away.
ORLEANS. That they lack; for if their heads had any intellectual armour, they
could never wear such heavy head-pieces.
RAMBURES. That island of England breeds very valiant creatures; their
mastiffs are of unmatchable courage.
ORLEANS. Foolish curs, that run winking into the mouth of a Russian bear, and
have their heads crush'd like rotten apples! You may as well say that's a
valiant flea that dare eat his breakfast on the lip of a lion.
CONSTABLE. Just, just! and the men do sympathise with 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.
ORLEANS. Ay, but these English are shrewdly out of beef.
CONSTABLE. 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?
ORLEANS. It is now two o'clock; but let me see- by ten We shall have each a
hundred Englishmen. Exeunt ACT IV. PROLOGUE.
Enter CHORUS
CHORUS. Now entertain conjecture of a time When creeping murmur and the
poring dark Fills the wide vessel of the universe. From camp to camp, through
the foul womb of night, The hum of either army stilly sounds, That the fix'd
sentinels almost receive The secret whispers of each other's watch. Fire answers
fire, and through their paly flames Each battle sees the other's umber'd face;
Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs Piercing the night's dull
ear; and from the tents The armourers accomplishing the knights, With busy
hammers closing rivets up, Give dreadful note of preparation. The country cocks
do crow, the clocks do ton, And the third hour of drowsy morning name. Proud of
their numbers and secure in soul, The confident and over-lusty French Do the
low-rated English play at dice; And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night Who
like a foul and ugly witch doth limp So tediously away. The poor condemned
English, Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires Sit patiently and inly
ruminate The morning's danger; and their gesture sad Investing lank-lean cheeks
and war-worn coats Presenteth them unto the gazing moon So many horrid ghosts.
O, now, who will behold The royal captain of this ruin'd band Walking from watch
to watch, from tent to tent, Let him cry 'Praise and glory on his head!' For
forth he goes and visits all his host; Bids them good morrow with a modest
smile, And calls them brothers, friends, and countrymen. Upon his royal face
there is no note How dread an army hath enrounded him; Nor doth he dedicate one
jot of colour Unto the weary and all-watched night; But freshly looks, and
over-bears attaint With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty; That every wretch,
pining and pale before, Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks; A largess
universal, like the sun, His liberal eye doth give to every one, Thawing cold
fear, that mean and gentle all Behold, as may unworthiness define, A little
touch of Harry in the night. And so our scene must to the battle fly; Where- O
for pity!- we shall much disgrace With four or five most vile and ragged foils,
Right ill-dispos'd in brawl ridiculous, The name of Agincourt. Yet sit and see,
Minding true things by what their mock'ries be. Exit SCENE I. France. The
English camp at Agincourt
Enter the KING, BEDFORD, and GLOUCESTER
KING HENRY. Gloucester, 'tis true that we are in great danger; The greater
therefore should our courage be. Good morrow, brother Bedford. God Almighty!
There is some soul of goodness in things evil, Would men observingly distil it
out; For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers, Which is both healthful and
good husbandry. Besides, they are our outward consciences And preachers to us
all, admonishing That we should dress us fairly for our end. Thus may we gather
honey from the weed, And make a moral of the devil himself.
Enter ERPINGHAM
Good morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpingham: A good soft pillow for that good white
head Were better than a churlish turf of France.
ERPINGHAM. Not so, my liege; this lodging likes me better, Since I may say
'Now lie I like a king.'
KING HENRY. 'Tis good for men to love their present pains Upon example; so
the spirit is eased; And when the mind is quick'ned, out of doubt The organs,
though defunct and dead before, Break up their drowsy grave and newly move With
casted slough and fresh legerity. Lend me thy cloak, Sir Thomas. Brothers both,
Commend me to the princes in our camp; Do my good morrow to them, and anon
Desire them all to my pavilion.
GLOUCESTER. We shall, my liege.
ERPINGHAM. Shall I attend your Grace?
KING HENRY. No, my good knight: Go with my brothers to my lords of England; I
and my bosom must debate awhile, And then I would no other company.
ERPINGHAM. The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble Harry!
Exeunt all but the KING
KING HENRY. God-a-mercy, old heart! thou speak'st cheerfully.
Enter PISTOL
PISTOL. Qui va la?
KING HENRY. A friend.
PISTOL. Discuss unto me: art thou officer, Or art thou base, common, and
popular?
KING HENRY. I am a gentleman of a company.
PISTOL. Trail'st thou the puissant pike?
KING HENRY. Even so. What are you?
PISTOL. As good a gentleman as the Emperor.
KING HENRY. Then you are a better than the King.
PISTOL. The King's a bawcock and a heart of gold, A lad of life, an imp of
fame; Of parents good, of fist most valiant. I kiss his dirty shoe, and from
heart-string I love the lovely bully. What is thy name?
KING HENRY. Harry le Roy.
PISTOL. Le Roy! a Cornish name; art thou of Cornish crew?
KING HENRY. No, I am a Welshman.
PISTOL. Know'st thou Fluellen?
KING HENRY. Yes.
PISTOL. Tell him I'll knock his leek about his pate Upon Saint Davy's day.
KING HENRY. Do not you wear your dagger in your cap that day, lest he knock
that about yours.
PISTOL. Art thou his friend?
KING HENRY. And his kinsman too.
PISTOL. The figo for thee, then!
KING HENRY. I thank you; God be with you!
PISTOL. My name is Pistol call'd. Exit
KING HENRY. It sorts well with your fierceness.
Enter FLUELLEN and GOWER
GOWER. Captain Fluellen!
FLUELLEN. So! in the name of Jesu Christ, speak fewer. It is the greatest
admiration in the universal world, when the true and aunchient prerogatifes and
laws of the wars is not kept: if you would take the pains but to examine the
wars of Pompey the Great, you shall find, I warrant you, that there is no
tiddle-taddle nor pibble-pabble in Pompey's camp; I warrant you, you shall find
the ceremonies of the wars, and the cares of it, and the forms of it, and the
sobriety of it, and the modesty of it, to be otherwise.
GOWER. Why, the enemy is loud; you hear him all night.
FLUELLEN. If the enemy is an ass, and a fool, and a prating coxcomb, is it
meet, think you, that we should also, look you, be an ass, and a fool, and a
prating coxcomb? In your own conscience, now?
GOWER. I will speak lower.
FLUELLEN. I pray you and beseech you that you will. Exeunt GOWER and FLUELLEN
KING HENRY. Though it appear a little out of fashion, There is much care and
valour in this Welshman.
Enter three soldiers: JOHN BATES, ALEXANDER COURT, and MICHAEL WILLIAMS
COURT. Brother John Bates, is not that the morning which breaks yonder?
BATES. I think it be; but we have no great cause to desire the approach of
day.
WILLIAMS. We see yonder the beginning of the day, but I think we shall never
see the end of it. Who goes there?
KING HENRY. A friend.
WILLIAMS. Under what captain serve you?
KING HENRY. Under Sir Thomas Erpingham.
WILLIAMS. A good old commander and a most kind gentleman. I pray you, what
thinks he of our estate?
KING HENRY. Even as men wreck'd upon a sand, that look to be wash'd off the
next tide.
BATES. He hath not told his thought to the King?
KING HENRY. 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 shows to him as it doth to me; all his senses have but human
conditions; his ceremonies laid 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 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 showing it, should
dishearten his army.
BATES. He may show 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.
KING HENRY. By my troth, I will speak my conscience of the King: I think he
would not wish himself anywhere but where he is.
BATES. Then I would he were here alone; so should he be sure to be ransomed,
and a many poor men's lives saved.
KING HENRY. 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
anywhere so contented as in the King's company, his cause being just and his
quarrel honourable.
WILLIAMS. That's more than we know.
BATES. 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.
WILLIAMS. But if the cause be not good, the King himself hath a heavy
reckoning to make when all those legs and arms and heads, chopp'd off in a
battle, shall join together at the latter day and cry all 'We died 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 die in a battle; for how can they
charitably dispose of anything 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; who
to disobey were against all proportion of subjection.
KING HENRY. So, if a son that is by his father sent about merchandise 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 assailed 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 murder; 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 outrun native punishment,
though they can outstrip 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
borne life away; and where they would be safe they perish. Then if they die
unprovided, no more is the King guilty 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 mote 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 outlive that
day to see His greatness, and to teach others how they should prepare.
WILLIAMS. 'Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the ill upon his own head-
the King is not to answer for it.
BATES. I do not desire he should answer for me, and yet I determine to fight
lustily for him.
KING HENRY. I myself heard the King say he would not be ransom'd.
WILLIAMS. Ay, he said so, to make us fight cheerfully; but when our throats
are cut he may be ransom'd, and we ne'er the wiser.
KING HENRY. If I live to see it, I will never trust his word after.
WILLIAMS. 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! 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.
KING HENRY. Your reproof is something too round; I should be angry with you,
if the time were convenient.
WILLIAMS. Let it be a quarrel between us if you live.
KING HENRY. I embrace it.
WILLIAMS. How shall I know thee again?
KING HENRY. 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.
WILLIAMS. Here's my glove; give me another of thine.
KING HENRY. There.
WILLIAMS. 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.
KING HENRY. If ever I live to see it, I will challenge it.
WILLIAMS. Thou dar'st as well be hang'd.
KING HENRY. Well, I will do it, though I take thee in the King's company.
WILLIAMS. Keep thy word. Fare thee well.
BATES. Be friends, you English fools, be friends; we have French quarrels
enow, if you could tell how to reckon.
KING HENRY. 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, subject 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? What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st more Of mortal griefs than
do thy worshippers? What are thy rents? What are thy comings-in? O Ceremony,
show me but thy worth! What is thy soul of adoration? 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! Thinks thou the fiery fever will go out With titles
blown from adulation? Will it 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 sceptre, and the ball, The sword, the mace,
the crown imperial, The intertissued robe of gold and pearl, The farced tide
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,
Not all these, laid in bed majestical, Can sleep so soundly as the wretched
slave Who, with a body fill'd and vacant mind, Gets him to rest, cramm'd with
distressful bread; Never sees horrid night, the child of hell; But, like a
lackey, from the rise to set Sweats in the eye of Pheebus, and all night Sleeps
in Elysium; next day, after dawn, Doth rise and help Hyperion 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
ERPINGHAM. My lord, your nobles, jealous of your absence, Seek through your
camp to find you.
KING. Good old knight, Collect them all together at my tent: I'll be before
thee.
ERPINGHAM. I shall do't, my lord. Exit
KING. O God of battles, steel my soldiers' hearts, Possess them not with
fear! Take from them now The sense of reck'ning, if th' opposed 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 bestowed more contrite tears Than from it issued 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 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 GLOUCESTER
GLOUCESTER. My liege!
KING HENRY. My brother Gloucester's voice? Ay; I know thy errand, I will go
with thee; The day, my friends, and all things, stay for me. Exeunt
SCENE II.
The French camp
Enter the DAUPHIN, ORLEANS, RAMBURES, and others
ORLEANS. The sun doth gild our armour; up, my lords!
DAUPHIN. Montez a cheval! My horse! Varlet, laquais! Ha!
ORLEANS. O brave spirit!
DAUPHIN. Via! Les eaux et la terre-
ORLEANS. Rien puis? L'air et le feu.
DAUPHIN. Ciel! cousin Orleans.
Enter CONSTABLE
Now, my Lord Constable!
CONSTABLE. Hark how our steeds for present service neigh!
DAUPHIN. Mount them, and make incision in their hides, That their hot blood
may spin in English eyes, And dout them with superfluous courage, ha!
RAMBURES. What, will you have them weep our horses' blood? How shall we then
behold their natural tears?
Enter a MESSENGER
MESSENGER. The English are embattl'd, you French peers.
CONSTABLE. To horse, you gallant Princes! straight to horse! Do but behold
yon poor and starved band, And your fair show shall suck away their souls,
Leaving them but the shales and husks of men. There is not work enough for all
our hands; Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins To give each naked
curtle-axe a stain That our French gallants shall to-day draw out, And sheathe
for lack of sport. Let us but blow on them, The vapour of our valour will
o'erturn them. 'Tis positive 'gainst all exceptions, lords, That our superfluous
lackeys and our peasants- Who in unnecessary action swarm About our squares of
battle- were enow To purge this field of, such a hilding foe; Though we upon
this mountain's basis by Took stand for idle speculation- But that our honours
must not. What's to say? A very little little let us do, And all is done. Then
let the trumpets sound The tucket sonance and the note to mount; For our
approach shall so much dare the field That England shall couch down in fear and
yield.
Enter GRANDPRE
GRANDPRE. Why do you stay so long, my lords of France? Yond island carrions,
desperate of their bones, Ill-favouredly become the morning field; Their ragged
curtains poorly are let loose, And our air shakes them passing scornfully; Big
Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar'd host, And faintly through a rusty beaver
peeps. The horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks With torch-staves in their hand;
and their poor jades Lob down their heads, dropping the hides and hips, The gum
down-roping from their pale-dead eyes, And in their pale dull mouths the
gimmal'd bit Lies foul with chaw'd grass, still and motionless; And their
executors, the knavish crows, Fly o'er them, all impatient for their hour.
Description cannot suit itself in words To demonstrate the life of such a battle
In life so lifeless as it shows itself.
CONSTABLE. They have said their prayers and they stay for death.
DAUPHIN. Shall we go send them dinners and fresh suits, And give their
fasting horses provender, And after fight with them?
CONSTABLE. I stay but for my guidon. To the field! I will the banner from a
trumpet take, And use it for my haste. Come, come, away! The sun is high, and we
outwear the day. Exeunt
SCENE III.
The English camp
Enter GLOUCESTER, BEDFORD, EXETER, ERPINGHAM, with
all his host; SALISBURY and WESTMORELAND
GLOUCESTER. Where is the King?
BEDFORD. The King himself is rode to view their battle.
WESTMORELAND. Of fighting men they have full three-score thousand.
EXETER. There's five to one; besides, they all are fresh.
SALISBURY. God's arm strike with us! 'tis a fearful odds. God bye you,
Princes all; I'll to my charge. If we no more meet till we meet in heaven, Then
joyfully, my noble Lord of Bedford, My dear Lord Gloucester, and my good Lord
Exeter, And my kind kinsman- warriors all, adieu!
BEDFORD. Farewell, good Salisbury; and good luck go with thee!
EXETER. Farewell, kind lord. Fight valiantly to-day; And yet I do thee wrong
to mind thee of it, For thou art fram'd of the firm truth of valour.
Exit SALISBURY
BEDFORD. He is as full of valour as of kindness; Princely in both.
Enter the KING
WESTMORELAND. O that we now had here But one ten thousand of those men in
England That do no work to-day!
KING. What's he that wishes so? My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin;
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow To do our country loss; and if to live, The
fewer men, the greater share of honour. God's will! I pray thee, wish not one
man more. By Jove, I am not covetous for gold, Nor care I who doth feed upon my
cost; It yearns me not if men my garments wear; Such outward things dwell not in
my desires. But if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul
alive. No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England. God's peace! I would not
lose so great an honour As one man more methinks would share from me For the
best hope I have. O, do not wish one more! Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland,
through my host, That he which hath no stomach to this fight, Let him depart;
his passport shall be made, And crowns for convoy put into his purse; We would
not die in that man's company That fears his fellowship to die with us. This day
is call'd the feast of Crispian. He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd, And rouse him at the name of
Crispian. He that shall live this day, and see old age, Will yearly on the vigil
feast his neighbours, And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.' Then will he strip
his sleeve and show his scars, And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.'
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot, But he'll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names, Familiar in his mouth as
household words- Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot,
Salisbury and Gloucester- Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red. This
story shall the good man teach his son; And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered- We
few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he to-day that sheds his blood with
me Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile, This day shall gentle his
condition; And gentlemen in England now-a-bed Shall think themselves accurs'd
they were not here, And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks That fought
with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
Re-enter SALISBURY
SALISBURY. My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with speed: The French are
bravely in their battles set, And will with all expedience charge on us.
KING HENRY. All things are ready, if our minds be so.
WESTMORELAND. Perish the man whose mind is backward now!
KING HENRY. Thou dost not wish more help from England, coz?
WESTMORELAND. God's will, my liege! would you and I alone, Without more help,
could fight this royal battle!
KING HENRY. Why, now thou hast unwish'd five thousand men; Which likes me
better than to wish us one. You know your places. God be with you all!
Tucket. Enter MONTJOY
MONTJOY. Once more I come to know of thee, King Harry, If for thy ransom thou
wilt now compound, Before thy most assured overthrow; For certainly thou art so
near the gulf Thou needs must be englutted. Besides, in mercy, The constable
desires thee thou wilt mind Thy followers of repentance, that their souls May
make a peaceful and a sweet retire From off these fields, where, wretches, their
poor bodies Must lie and fester.
KING HENRY. Who hath sent thee now?
MONTJOY. The Constable of France.
KING HENRY. I pray thee bear my former answer back: Bid them achieve me, and
then sell my bones. Good God! why should they mock poor fellows thus? The man
that once did sell the lion's skin While the beast liv'd was kill'd with hunting
him. A many of our bodies shall no doubt Find native graves; upon the which, I
trust, Shall witness live in brass of this day's work. And those that leave
their valiant bones in France, Dying like men, though buried in your dunghills,
They shall be fam'd; for there the sun shall greet them And draw their honours
reeking up to heaven, Leaving their earthly parts to choke your clime, The smell
whereof shall breed a plague in France. Mark then abounding valour in our
English, That, being dead, like to the bullet's grazing Break out into a second
course of mischief, Killing in relapse of mortality. Let me speak proudly: tell
the Constable We are but warriors for the working-day; Our gayness and our gilt
are all besmirch'd With rainy marching in the painful field; There's not a piece
of feather in our host- Good argument, I hope, we will not fly- And time hath
worn us into slovenry. But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim; And my poor
soldiers tell me yet ere night They'll be in fresher robes, or they will pluck
The gay new coats o'er the French soldiers' heads And turn them out of service.
If they do this- As, if God please, they shall- my ransom then Will soon be
levied. Herald, save thou thy labour; Come thou no more for ransom, gentle
herald; They shall have none, I swear, but these my joints; Which if they have,
as I will leave 'em them, Shall yield them little, tell the Constable.
MONTJOY. I shall, King Harry. And so fare thee well: Thou never shalt hear
herald any more. Exit
KING HENRY. I fear thou wilt once more come again for a ransom.
Enter the DUKE OF YORK
YORK. My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg The leading of the vaward.
KING HENRY. Take it, brave York. Now, soldiers, march away; And how thou
pleasest, God, dispose the day! Exeunt SCENE IV.
The field of battle
Alarum. Excursions. Enter FRENCH SOLDIER,
PISTOL, and BOY
PISTOL. Yield, cur!
FRENCH SOLDIER. Je pense que vous etes le gentilhomme de bonne qualite.
PISTOL. Cality! Calen o custure me! Art thou a gentleman? What is thy name?
Discuss.
FRENCH SOLDIER. O Seigneur Dieu!
PISTOL. O, Signieur Dew should be a gentleman. Perpend my words, O Signieur
Dew, and mark: O Signieur Dew, thou diest on point of fox, Except, O Signieur,
thou do give to me Egregious ransom.
FRENCH SOLDIER. O, prenez misericorde; ayez pitie de moi!
PISTOL. Moy shall not serve; I will have forty moys; Or I will fetch thy rim
out at thy throat In drops of crimson blood.
FRENCH SOLDIER. Est-il impossible d'echapper la force de ton bras?
PISTOL. Brass, cur? Thou damned and luxurious mountain-goat, Offer'st me
brass?
FRENCH SOLDIER. O, pardonnez-moi!
PISTOL. Say'st thou me so? Is that a ton of moys? Come hither, boy; ask me
this slave in French What is his name.
BOY. Ecoutez: comment etes-vous appele?
FRENCH SOLDIER. Monsieur le Fer.
BOY. He says his name is Master Fer.
PISTOL. Master Fer! I'll fer him, and firk him, and ferret him- discuss the
same in French unto him.
BOY. I do not know the French for fer, and ferret, and firk.
PISTOL. Bid him prepare; for I will cut his throat.
FRENCH SOLDIER. Que dit-il, monsieur?
BOY. Il me commande a vous dire que vous faites vous pret; car ce soldat ici
est dispose tout a cette heure de couper votre gorge.
PISTOL. Owy, cuppele gorge, permafoy! Peasant, unless thou give me crowns,
brave crowns; Or mangled shalt thou be by this my sword.
FRENCH SOLDIER. O, je vous supplie, pour l'amour de Dieu, me pardonner! Je
suis gentilhomme de bonne maison. Gardez ma vie, et je vous donnerai deux cents
ecus.
PISTOL. What are his words?
BOY. He prays you to save his life; he is a gentleman of a good house, and
for his ransom he will give you two hundred crowns.
PISTOL. Tell him my fury shall abate, and I The crowns will take.
FRENCH SOLDIER. Petit monsieur, que dit-il?
BOY. Encore qu'il est contre son jurement de pardonner aucun prisonnier,
neamnoins, pour les ecus que vous l'avez promis, il est content a vous donner la
liberte, le franchisement.
FRENCH SOLDIER. Sur mes genoux je vous donne mille remercimens; et je
m'estime heureux que je suis tombe entre les mains d'un chevalier, je pense, le
plus brave, vaillant, et tres distingue seigneur d'Angleterre.
PISTOL. Expound unto me, boy.
BOY. He gives you, upon his knees, a thousand thanks; and he esteems himself
happy that he hath fall'n into the hands of one- as he thinks- the most brave,
valorous, and thrice-worthy signieur of England.
PISTOL. As I suck blood, I will some mercy show. Follow me. Exit
BOY. Suivez-vous le grand capitaine.Exit FRENCH SOLDIER I did never know so
full a voice issue from so empty a heart; but the saying is true- the empty
vessel makes the greatest sound. Bardolph and Nym had ten times more valour than
this roaring devil i' th' old play, that every one may pare his nails with a
wooden dagger; and they are both hang'd; and so would this be, if he durst steal
anything adventurously. I must stay with the lackeys, with the luggage of our
camp. The French might have a good prey of us, if he knew of it; for there is
none to guard it but boys.Exit
SCENE V. Another part of the field of battle
Enter CONSTABLE, ORLEANS, BOURBON, DAUPHIN,
and RAMBURES
CONSTABLE. O diable!
ORLEANS. O Seigneur! le jour est perdu, tout est perdu!
DAUPHIN. Mort Dieu, ma vie! all is confounded, all! Reproach and everlasting
shame Sits mocking in our plumes. [A short alarum] O mechante fortune! Do not
run away.
CONSTABLE. Why, an our ranks are broke.
DAUPHIN. O perdurable shame! Let's stab ourselves. Be these the wretches that
we play'd at dice for?
ORLEANS. Is this the king we sent to for his ransom?
BOURBON. Shame, and eternal shame, nothing but shame! Let us die in honour:
once more back again; And he that will not follow Bourbon now, Let him go hence
and, with his cap in hand Like a base pander, hold the chamber-door Whilst by a
slave, no gender than my dog, His fairest daughter is contaminated.
CONSTABLE. Disorder, that hath spoil'd us, friend us now! Let us on heaps go
offer up our lives.
ORLEANS. We are enow yet living in the field To smother up the English in our
throngs, If any order might be thought upon.
BOURBON. The devil take order now! I'll to the throng. Let life be short,
else shame will be too long.Exeunt
SCENE VI.
Another part of the field
Alarum. Enter the KING and his train, with
prisoners; EXETER, and others
KING HENRY. Well have we done, thrice-valiant countrymen; But all's not done-
yet keep the French the field.
EXETER. The Duke of York commends him to your Majesty.
KING HENRY. Lives he, good uncle? Thrice within this hour I saw him down;
thrice up again, and fighting; From helmet to the spur all blood he was.
EXETER. In which array, brave soldier, doth he lie Larding the plain; and by
his bloody side, Yoke-fellow to his honour-owing wounds, The noble Earl of
Suffolk also lies. Suffolk first died; and York, all haggled over, Comes to him,
where in gore he lay insteeped, And takes him by the beard, kisses the gashes
That bloodily did yawn upon his face, He cries aloud 'Tarry, my cousin Suffolk.
My soul shall thine keep company to heaven; Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then
fly abreast; As in this glorious and well-foughten field We kept together in our
chivalry.' Upon these words I came and cheer'd him up; He smil'd me in the face,
raught me his hand, And, with a feeble grip, says 'Dear my lord, Commend my
service to my sovereign.' So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck He threw his
wounded arm and kiss'd his lips; And so, espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd
A testament of noble-ending love. The pretty and sweet manner of it forc'd Those
waters from me which I would have stopp'd; But I had not so much of man in me,
And all my mother came into mine eyes And gave me up to tears.
KING HENRY. I blame you not; For, hearing this, I must perforce compound With
mistful eyes, or they will issue too. [Alarum] But hark! what new alarum is this
same? The French have reinforc'd their scatter'd men. Then every soldier kill
his prisoners; Give the word through.Exeunt
SCENE VII.
Another part of the field
Enter FLUELLEN and GOWER
FLUELLEN. Kill the poys and the luggage! 'Tis expressly against the law of
arms; 'tis as arrant a piece of knavery, mark you now, as can be offert; in your
conscience, now, is it not?
GOWER. 'Tis certain there's not a boy left alive; and the cowardly rascals
that ran from the battle ha' done this slaughter; besides, they have burned and
carried away all that was in the King's tent; wherefore the King most worthily
hath caus'd every soldier to cut his prisoner's throat. O, 'tis a gallant King!
FLUELLEN. Ay, he was porn at Monmouth, Captain Gower. What call you the
town's name where Alexander the Pig was born?
GOWER. Alexander the Great.
FLUELLEN. Why, I pray you, is not 'pig' great? The pig, or great, or the
mighty, or the huge, or the magnanimous, are all one reckonings, save the phrase
is a little variations.
GOWER. I think Alexander the Great was born in Macedon; his father was called
Philip of Macedon, as I take it.
FLUELLEN. I think it is in Macedon where Alexander is porn. I tell you,
Captain, if you look in the maps of the 'orld, I warrant you sall find, in the
comparisons between Macedon and Monmouth, that the situations, look you, is both
alike. There is a river in Macedon; and there is also moreover a river at
Monmouth; it is call'd Wye at Monmouth, but it is out of my prains what is the
name of the other river; but 'tis all one, 'tis alike as my fingers is to my
fingers, and there is salmons in both. If you mark Alexander's life well, Harry
of Monmouth's life is come after it indifferent well; for there is figures in
all things. Alexander- God knows, and you know- in his rages, and his furies,
and his wraths, and his cholers, and his moods, and his displeasures, and his
indignations, and also being a little intoxicates in his prains, did, in his
ales and his angers, look you, kill his best friend, Cleitus.
GOWER. Our king is not like him in that: he never kill'd any of his friends.
FLUELLEN. It is not well done, mark you now, to take the tales out of my
mouth ere it is made and finished. I speak but in the figures and comparisons of
it; as Alexander kill'd his friend Cleitus, being in his ales and his cups, so
also Harry Monmouth, being in his right wits and his good judgments, turn'd away
the fat knight with the great belly doublet; he was full of jests, and gipes,
and knaveries, and mocks; I have forgot his name.
GOWER. Sir John Falstaff.
FLUELLEN. That is he. I'll tell you there is good men porn at Monmouth.
GOWER. Here comes his Majesty.
Alarum. Enter the KING, WARWICK, GLOUCESTER, EXETER, and others, with
prisoners. Flourish
KING HENRY. I was not angry since I came to France Until this instant. Take a
trumpet, herald, Ride thou unto the horsemen on yond hill; If they will fight
with us, bid them come down Or void the field; they do offend our sight. If
they'll do neither, we will come to them And make them skirr away as swift as
stones Enforced from the old Assyrian slings; Besides, we'll cut the throats of
those we have, And not a man of them that we shall take Shall taste our mercy.
Go and tell them so.
Enter MONTJOY
EXETER. Here comes the herald of the French, my liege.
GLOUCESTER. His eyes are humbler than they us'd to be.
KING HENRY. How now! What means this, herald? know'st thou not That I have
fin'd these bones of mine for ransom? Com'st thou again for ransom?
MONTJOY. No, great King; I come to thee for charitable licence, That we may
wander o'er this bloody field To book our dead, and then to bury them; To sort
our nobles from our common men; For many of our princes- woe the while!- Lie
drown'd and soak'd in mercenary blood; So do our vulgar drench their peasant
limbs In blood of princes; and their wounded steeds Fret fetlock deep in gore,
and with wild rage Yerk out their armed heels at their dead masters, Killing
them twice. O, give us leave, great King, To view the field in safety, and
dispose Of their dead bodies!
KING HENRY. I tell thee truly, herald, I know not if the day be ours or no;
For yet a many of your horsemen peer And gallop o'er the field.
MONTJOY. The day is yours.
KING HENRY. Praised be God, and not our strength, for it! What is this castle
call'd that stands hard by?
MONTJOY. They call it Agincourt.
KING HENRY. Then call we this the field of Agincourt, Fought on the day of
Crispin Crispianus.
FLUELLEN. Your grandfather of famous memory, an't please your Majesty, and
your great-uncle Edward the Plack Prince of Wales, as I have read in the
chronicles, fought a most prave pattle here in France.
KING HENRY. They did, Fluellen.
FLUELLEN. Your Majesty says very true; if your Majesties is rememb'red of it,
the Welshmen did good service in garden where leeks did grow, wearing leeks in
their Monmouth caps; which your Majesty know to this hour is an honourable badge
of the service; and I do believe your Majesty takes no scorn to wear the leek
upon Saint Tavy's day.
KING HENRY. I wear it for a memorable honour; For I am Welsh, you know, good
countryman.
FLUELLEN. All the water in Wye cannot wash your Majesty's Welsh plood out of
your pody, I can tell you that. Got pless it and preserve it as long as it
pleases his Grace and his Majesty too!
KING HENRY. Thanks, good my countryman.
FLUELLEN. By Jeshu, I am your Majesty's countryman, care not who know it; I
will confess it to all the 'orld: I need not be asham'd of your Majesty, praised
be Got, so long as your Majesty is an honest man.
Enter WILLIAMS
KING HENRY. God keep me so! Our heralds go with him: Bring me just notice of
the numbers dead On both our parts. Call yonder fellow hither.
Exeunt heralds with MONTJOY
EXETER. Soldier, you must come to the King.
KING HENRY. Soldier, why wear'st thou that glove in thy cap?
WILLIAMS. An't please your Majesty, 'tis the gage of one that I should fight
withal, if he be alive.
KING HENRY. An Englishman?
WILLIAMS. An't please your Majesty, a rascal that swagger'd with me last
night; who, if 'a live and ever dare to challenge this glove, I have sworn to
take him a box o' th' ear; or if I can see my glove in his cap- which he swore,
as he was a soldier, he would wear if alive- I will strike it out soundly.
KING HENRY. What think you, Captain Fluellen, is it fit this soldier keep his
oath?
FLUELLEN. He is a craven and a villain else, an't please your Majesty, in my
conscience.
KING HENRY. It may be his enemy is a gentlemen of great sort, quite from the
answer of his degree.
FLUELLEN. Though he be as good a gentleman as the Devil is, as Lucifier and
Belzebub himself, it is necessary, look your Grace, that he keep his vow and his
oath; if he be perjur'd, see you now, his reputation is as arrant a villain and
a Jacksauce as ever his black shoe trod upon God's ground and his earth, in my
conscience, la.
KING HENRY. Then keep thy vow, sirrah, when thou meet'st the fellow.
WILLIAMS. So I Will, my liege, as I live.
KING HENRY. Who serv'st thou under?
WILLIAMS. Under Captain Gower, my liege.
FLUELLEN. Gower is a good captain, and is good knowledge and literatured in
the wars.
KING HENRY. Call him hither to me, soldier.
WILLIAMS. I will, my liege.Exit
KING HENRY. Here, Fluellen; wear thou this favour for me, and stick it in thy
cap; when Alencon and myself were down together, I pluck'd this glove from his
helm. If any man challenge this, he is a friend to Alencon and an enemy to our
person; if thou encounter any such, apprehend him, an thou dost me love.
FLUELLEN. Your Grace does me as great honours as can be desir'd in the hearts
of his subjects. I would fain see the man that has but two legs that shall find
himself aggrief'd at this glove, that is all; but I would fain see it once, an
please God of his grace that I might see.
KING HENRY. Know'st thou Gower?
FLUELLEN. He is my dear friend, an please you.
KING HENRY. Pray thee, go seek him, and bring him to my tent.
FLUELLEN. I will fetch him.Exit
KING HENRY. My Lord of Warwick and my brother Gloucester, Follow Fluellen
closely at the heels; The glove which I have given him for a favour May haply
purchase him a box o' th' ear. It is the soldier's: I, by bargain, should Wear
it myself. Follow, good cousin Warwick; If that the soldier strike him, as I
judge By his blunt bearing he will keep his word, Some sudden mischief may arise
of it; For I do know Fluellen valiant, And touch'd with choler, hot as
gunpowder, And quickly will return an injury; Follow, and see there be no harm
between them. Go you with me, uncle of Exeter. Exeunt
SCENE VIII.
Before KING HENRY'S PAVILION
Enter GOWER and WILLIAMS
WILLIAMS. I warrant it is to knight you, Captain.
Enter FLUELLEN
FLUELLEN. God's will and his pleasure, Captain, I beseech you now, come apace
to the King: there is more good toward you peradventure than is in your
knowledge to dream of.
WILLIAMS. Sir, know you this glove?
FLUELLEN. Know the glove? I know the glove is a glove.
WILLIAMS. I know this; and thus I challenge it. [Strikes him]
FLUELLEN. 'Sblood, an arrant traitor as any's in the universal world, or in
France, or in England!
GOWER. How now, sir! you villain!
WILLIAMS. Do you think I'll be forsworn?
FLUELLEN. Stand away, Captain Gower; I will give treason his payment into
plows, I warrant you.
WILLIAMS. I am no traitor.
FLUELLEN. That's a lie in thy throat. I charge you in his Majesty's name,
apprehend him: he's a friend of the Duke Alencon's.
Enter WARWICK and GLOUCESTER
WARWICK. How now! how now! what's the matter?
FLUELLEN. My Lord of Warwick, here is- praised be God for it!- a most
contagious treason come to light, look you, as you shall desire in a summer's
day. Here is his Majesty.
Enter the KING and EXETER
KING HENRY. How now! what's the matter?
FLUELLEN. My liege, here is a villain and a traitor, that, look your Grace,
has struck the glove which your Majesty is take out of the helmet of Alencon.
WILLIAMS. My liege, this was my glove: here is the fellow of it; and he that
I gave it to in change promis'd to wear it in his cap; I promis'd to strike him
if he did; I met this man with my glove in his cap, and I have been as good as
my word.
FLUELLEN. Your Majesty hear now, saving your Majesty's manhood, what an
arrant, rascally, beggarly, lousy knave it is; I hope your Majesty is pear me
testimony and witness, and will avouchment, that this is the glove of Alencon
that your Majesty is give me; in your conscience, now.
KING HENRY. Give me thy glove, soldier; look, here is the fellow of
it. 'Twas I, indeed, thou promised'st to strike, And thou hast given me most
bitter terms.
FLUELLEN. An please your Majesty, let his neck answer for it, if there is any
martial law in the world.
KING HENRY. How canst thou make me satisfaction?
WILLIAMS. All offences, my lord, come from the heart; never came any from
mine that might offend your Majesty.
KING HENRY. It was ourself thou didst abuse.
WILLIAMS. Your Majesty came not like yourself: you appear'd to me but as a
common man; witness the night, your garments, your lowliness; and what your
Highness suffer'd under that shape I beseech you take it for your own fault, and
not mine; for had you been as I took you for, I made no offence; therefore, I
beseech your Highness pardon me.
KING HENRY. Here, uncle Exeter, fill this glove with crowns, And give it to
this fellow. Keep it, fellow; And wear it for an honour in thy cap Till I do
challenge it. Give him the crowns; And, Captain, you must needs be friends with
him.
FLUELLEN. By this day and this light, the fellow has mettle enough in his
belly: hold, there is twelve pence for you; and I pray you to serve God, and
keep you out of prawls, and prabbles, and quarrels, and dissensions, and, I
warrant you, it is the better for you.
WILLIAMS. I will none of your money.
FLUELLEN. It is with a good will; I can tell you it will serve you to mend
your shoes. Come, wherefore should you be so pashful? Your shoes is not so good.
'Tis a good silling, I warrant you, or I will change it.
Enter an ENGLISH HERALD
KING HENRY. Now, herald, are the dead numb'red?
HERALD. Here is the number of the slaught'red French.
[Gives a paper]
KING HENRY. What prisoners of good sort are taken, uncle?
EXETER. Charles Duke of Orleans, nephew to the King; John Duke of Bourbon,
and Lord Bouciqualt; Of other lords and barons, knights and squires, Full
fifteen hundred, besides common men.
KING HENRY. This note doth tell me of ten thousand French That in the field
lie slain; of princes in this number, And nobles bearing banners, there lie dead
One hundred twenty-six; added to these, Of knights, esquires, and gallant
gentlemen, Eight thousand and four hundred; of the which Five hundred were but
yesterday dubb'd knights. So that, in these ten thousand they have lost, There
are but sixteen hundred mercenaries; The rest are princes, barons, lords,
knights, squires, And gentlemen of blood and quality. The names of those their
nobles that lie dead: Charles Delabreth, High Constable of France; Jaques of
Chatillon, Admiral of France; The master of the cross-bows, Lord Rambures; Great
Master of France, the brave Sir Guichard Dolphin; John Duke of Alencon; Antony
Duke of Brabant, The brother to the Duke of Burgundy; And Edward Duke of Bar. Of
lusty earls, Grandpre and Roussi, Fauconbridge and Foix, Beaumont and Marle,
Vaudemont and Lestrake. Here was a royal fellowship of death! Where is the
number of our English dead?
[HERALD presents another paper] Edward the Duke of York, the Earl of Suffolk,
Sir Richard Kikely, Davy Gam, Esquire; None else of name; and of all other men
But five and twenty. O God, thy arm was here! And not to us, but to thy arm
alone, Ascribe we all. When, without stratagem, But in plain shock and even play
of battle, Was ever known so great and little los On one part and on th' other?
Take it, God, For it is none but thine.
EXETER. 'Tis wonderful!
KING HENRY. Come, go we in procession to the village; And be it death
proclaimed through our host To boast of this or take that praise from God Which
is his only.
FLUELLEN. Is it not lawful, an please your Majesty, to tell how many is
kill'd?
KING HENRY. Yes, Captain; but with this acknowledgment, That God fought for
us.
FLUELLEN. Yes, my conscience, he did us great good.
KING HENRY. Do we all holy rites: Let there be sung 'Non nobis' and 'Te
Deum'; The dead with charity enclos'd in clay- And then to Calais; and to
England then; Where ne'er from France arriv'd more happy men.Exeunt ACT V.
PROLOGUE.
Enter CHORUS
CHORUS. Vouchsafe to those that have not read the story That I may prompt
them; and of such as have, I humbly pray them to admit th' excuse Of time, of
numbers, and due course of things, Which cannot in their huge and proper life Be
here presented. Now we bear the King Toward Calais. Grant him there. There seen,
Heave him away upon your winged thoughts Athwart the sea. Behold, the English
beach Pales in the flood with men, with wives, and boys, Whose shouts and claps
out-voice the deep-mouth'd sea, Which, like a mighty whiffler, fore the King
Seems to prepare his way. So let him land, And solemnly see him set on to
London. So swift a pace hath thought that even now You may imagine him upon
Blackheath; Where that his lords desire him to have borne His bruised helmet and
his bended sword Before him through the city. He forbids it, Being free from
vainness and self-glorious pride; Giving full trophy, signal, and ostent, Quite
from himself to God. But now behold In the quick forge and working-house of
thought, How London doth pour out her citizens! The mayor and all his brethren
in best sort- Like to the senators of th' antique Rome, With the plebeians
swarming at their heels- Go forth and fetch their conqu'ring Caesar in; As, by a
lower but loving likelihood, Were now the General of our gracious Empress- As in
good time he may- from Ireland coming, Bringing rebellion broached on his sword,
How many would the peaceful city quit To welcome him! Much more, and much more
cause, Did they this Harry. Now in London place him- As yet the lamentation of
the French Invites the King of England's stay at home; The Emperor's coming in
behalf of France To order peace between them; and omit All the occurrences,
whatever chanc'd, Till Harry's back-return again to France. There must we bring
him; and myself have play'd The interim, by rememb'ring you 'tis past. Then
brook abridgment; and your eyes advance, After your thoughts, straight back
again to France. Exit SCENE I.
France. The English camp
Enter FLUELLEN and GOWER
GOWER. Nay, that's right; but why wear you your leek to-day? Saint Davy's day
is past.
FLUELLEN. There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all things. I
will tell you, ass my friend, Captain Gower: the rascally, scald, beggarly,
lousy, pragging knave, Pistol- which you and yourself and all the world know to
be no petter than a fellow, look you now, of no merits- he is come to me, and
prings me pread and salt yesterday, look you, and bid me eat my leek; it was in
a place where I could not breed no contendon with him; but I will be so bold as
to wear it in my cap till I see him once again, and then I will tell him a
little piece of my desires.
Enter PISTOL
GOWER. Why, here he comes, swelling like a turkey-cock.
FLUELLEN. 'Tis no matter for his swellings nor his turkey-cocks. God pless
you, Aunchient Pistol! you scurvy, lousy knave, God pless you!
PISTOL. Ha! art thou bedlam? Dost thou thirst, base Troyan, To have me fold
up Parca's fatal web? Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek.
FLUELLEN. I peseech you heartily, scurvy, lousy knave, at my desires, and my
requests, and my petitions, to eat, look you, this leek; because, look you, you
do not love it, nor your affections, and your appetites, and your digestions,
does not agree with it, I would desire you to eat it.
PISTOL. Not for Cadwallader and all his goats.
FLUELLEN. There is one goat for you. [Strikes him] Will you be so good, scald
knave, as eat it?
PISTOL. Base Troyan, thou shalt die.
FLUELLEN. You say very true, scald knave- when God's will is. I will desire
you to live in the meantime, and eat your victuals; come, there is sauce for it.
[Striking him again] You call'd me yesterday mountain-squire; but I will make
you to-day a squire of low degree. I pray you fall to; if you can mock a leek,
you can eat a leek.
GOWER. Enough, Captain, you have astonish'd him.
FLUELLEN. I say I will make him eat some part of my leek, or I will peat his
pate four days. Bite, I pray you, it is good for your green wound and your
ploody coxcomb.
PISTOL. Must I bite?
FLUELLEN. Yes, certainly, and out of doubt, and out of question too, and
ambiguides.
PISTOL. By this leek, I will most horribly revenge- I eat and eat, I swear-
FLUELLEN. Eat, I pray you; will you have some more sauce to your leek? There
is not enough leek to swear by.
PISTOL. Quiet thy cudgel: thou dost see I eat.
FLUELLEN. Much good do you, scald knave, heartily. Nay, pray you throw none
away; the skin is good for your broken coxcomb. When you take occasions to see
leeks hereafter, I pray you mock at 'em; that is all.
PISTOL. Good.
FLUELLEN. Ay, leeks is good. Hold you, there is a groat to heal your pate.
PISTOL. Me a groat!
FLUELLEN. Yes, verily and in truth, you shall take it; or I have another leek
in my pocket which you shall eat.
PISTOL. I take thy groat in earnest of revenge.
FLUELLEN. If I owe you anything I will pay you in cudgels; you shall be a
woodmonger, and buy nothing of me but cudgels. God bye you, and keep you, and
heal your pate. Exit
PISTOL. All hell shall stir for this.
GOWER. Go, go: you are a couterfeit cowardly knave. Will you mock at an
ancient tradition, begun upon an honourable respect, and worn as a memorable
trophy of predeceased valour, and dare not avouch in your deeds any of your
words? I have seen you gleeking and galling at this gentleman twice or thrice.
You thought, because he could not speak English in the native garb, he could not
therefore handle an English cudgel; you find it otherwise, and henceforth let a
Welsh correction teach you a good English condition. Fare ye well.Exit
PISTOL. Doth Fortune play the huswife with me now? News have I that my Nell
is dead i' th' spital Of malady of France; And there my rendezvous is quite cut
off. Old I do wax; and from my weary limbs Honour is cudgell'd. Well, bawd I'll
turn, And something lean to cutpurse of quick hand. To England will I steal, and
there I'll steal; And patches will I get unto these cudgell'd scars, And swear I
got them in the Gallia wars.Exit
SCENE II. France. The FRENCH KING'S palace
Enter at one door, KING HENRY, EXETER, BEDFORD,
GLOUCESTER, WARWICK, WESTMORELAND, and other LORDS; at another, the FRENCH
KING, QUEEN ISABEL, the PRINCESS KATHERINE, ALICE, and other LADIES; the DUKE OF
BURGUNDY, and his train
KING HENRY. Peace to this meeting, wherefore we are met! Unto our brother
France, and to our sister, Health and fair time of day; joy and good wishes To
our most fair and princely cousin Katherine. And, as a branch and member of this
royalty, By whom this great assembly is contriv'd, We do salute you, Duke of
Burgundy. And, princes French, and peers, health to you all!
FRENCH KING. Right joyous are we to behold your face, Most worthy brother
England; fairly met! So are you, princes English, every one.
QUEEN ISABEL. So happy be the issue, brother England, Of this good day and of
this gracious meeting As we are now glad to behold your eyes- Your eyes, which
hitherto have home in them, Against the French that met them in their bent, The
fatal balls of murdering basilisks; The venom of such looks, we fairly hope,
Have lost their quality; and that this day Shall change all griefs and quarrels
into love.
KING HENRY. To cry amen to that, thus we appear.
QUEEN ISABEL. You English princes an, I do salute you.
BURGUNDY. My duty to you both, on equal love, Great Kings of France and
England! That I have labour'd With all my wits, my pains, and strong endeavours,
To bring your most imperial Majesties Unto this bar and royal interview, Your
mightiness on both parts best can witness. Since then my office hath so far
prevail'd That face to face and royal eye to eye You have congreeted, let it not
disgrace me If I demand, before this royal view, What rub or what impediment
there is Why that the naked, poor, and mangled Peace, Dear nurse of arts,
plenties, and joyful births, Should not in this best garden of the world, Our
fertile France, put up her lovely visage? Alas, she hath from France too long
been chas'd! And all her husbandry doth lie on heaps, Corrupting in it own
fertility. Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart, Unpruned dies; her hedges
even-pleach'd, Like prisoners wildly overgrown with hair, Put forth disorder'd
twigs; her fallow leas The darnel, hemlock, and rank fumitory, Doth root upon,
while that the coulter rusts That should deracinate such savagery; The even
mead, that erst brought sweetly forth The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green
clover, Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank, Conceives by idleness, and
nothing teems But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs, Losing both
beauty and utility. And as our vineyards, fallows, meads, and hedges, Defective
in their natures, grow to wildness; Even so our houses and ourselves and
children Have lost, or do not learn for want of time, The sciences that should
become our country; But grow, like savages- as soldiers will, That nothing do
but meditate on blood- To swearing and stern looks, diffus'd attire, And
everything that seems unnatural. Which to reduce into our former favout You are
assembled; and my speech entreats That I may know the let why gentle Peace
Should not expel these inconveniences And bless us with her former qualities.
KING HENRY. If, Duke of Burgundy, you would the peace Whose want gives growth
to th' imperfections Which you have cited, you must buy that peace With full
accord to all our just demands; Whose tenours and particular effects You have,
enschedul'd briefly, in your hands.
BURGUNDY. The King hath heard them; to the which as yet There is no answer
made.
KING HENRY. Well then, the peace, Which you before so urg'd, lies in his
answer.
FRENCH KING. I have but with a cursorary eye O'erglanced the articles;
pleaseth your Grace To appoint some of your council presently To sit with us
once more, with better heed To re-survey them, we will suddenly Pass our accept
and peremptory answer.
KING HENRY. Brother, we shall. Go, uncle Exeter, And brother Clarence, and
you, brother Gloucester, Warwick, and Huntington, go with the King; And take
with you free power to ratify, Augment, or alter, as your wisdoms best Shall see
advantageable for our dignity, Any thing in or out of our demands; And we'll
consign thereto. Will you, fair sister, Go with the princes or stay here with
us?
QUEEN ISABEL. Our gracious brother, I will go with them; Haply a woman's
voice may do some good, When articles too nicely urg'd be stood on.
KING HENRY. Yet leave our cousin Katherine here with us; She is our capital
demand, compris'd Within the fore-rank of our articles.
QUEEN ISABEL. She hath good leave. Exeunt all but the KING, KATHERINE, and
ALICE
KING HENRY. Fair Katherine, and most fair, Will you vouchsafe to teach a
soldier terms Such as will enter at a lady's ear, And plead his love-suit to her
gentle heart?
KATHERINE. Your Majesty shall mock me; I cannot speak your England.
KING HENRY. O fair Katherine, if you will love me soundly with your French
heart, I will be glad to hear you confess it brokenly with your English tongue.
Do you like me, Kate?
KATHERINE. Pardonnez-moi, I cannot tell vat is like me.
KING HENRY. An angel is like you, Kate, and you are like an angel.
KATHERINE. Que dit-il? que je suis semblable a les anges?
ALICE. Oui, vraiment, sauf votre grace, ainsi dit-il.
KING HENRY. I said so, dear Katherine, and I must not blush to affirm it.
KATHERINE. O bon Dieu! les langues des hommes sont pleines de tromperies.
KING HENRY. What says she, fair one? that the tongues of men are full of
deceits?
ALICE. Oui, dat de tongues of de mans is be full of deceits- dat is de
Princess.
KING HENRY. The Princess is the better English-woman. I' faith, Kate, my
wooing is fit for thy understanding: I am glad thou canst speak no better
English; for if thou couldst, thou wouldst find me such a plain king that thou
wouldst think I had sold my farm to buy my crown. I know no ways to mince it in
love, but directly to say 'I love you.' Then, if you urge me farther than to say
'Do you in faith?' I wear out my suit. Give me your answer; i' faith, do; and so
clap hands and a bargain. How say you, lady?
KATHERINE. Sauf votre honneur, me understand well.
KING HENRY. Marry, if you would put me to verses or to dance for your sake,
Kate, why you undid me; for the one I have neither words nor measure, and for
the other I have no strength in measure, yet a reasonable measure in strength.
If I could win a lady at leap-frog, or by vaulting into my saddle with my armour
on my back, under the correction of bragging be it spoken, I should quickly leap
into wife. Or if I might buffet for my love, or bound my horse for her favours,
I could lay on like a butcher, and sit like a jack-an-apes, never off. But,
before God, Kate, I cannot look greenly, nor gasp out my cloquence, nor I have
no cunning in protestation; only downright oaths, which I never use till urg'd,
nor never break for urging. If thou canst love a fellow of this temper, Kate,
whose face is not worth sunburning, that never looks in his glass for love of
anything he sees there, let thine eye be thy cook. I speak to thee plain
soldier. If thou canst love me for this, take me; if not, to say to thee that I
shall die is true- but for thy love, by the Lord, no; yet I love thee too. And
while thou liv'st, dear Kate, take a fellow of plain and uncoined constancy; for
he perforce must do thee right, because he hath not the gift to woo in other
places; for these fellows of infinite tongue, that can rhyme themselves into
ladies' favours, they do always reason themselves out again. What! a speaker is
but a prater: a rhyme is but a ballad. A good leg will fall; a straight back
will stoop; a black beard will turn white; a curl'd pate will grow bald; a fair
face will wither; a full eye will wax hollow. But a good heart, Kate, is the sun
and the moon; or, rather, the sun, and not the moon- for it shines bright and
never changes, but keeps his course truly. If thou would have such a one, take
me; and take me, take a soldier; take a soldier, take a king. And what say'st
thou, then, to my love? Speak, my fair, and fairly, I pray thee.
KATHERINE. Is it possible dat I sould love de enemy of France?
KING HENRY. No, it is not possible you should love the enemy of France, Kate,
but in loving me you should love the friend of France; for I love France so well
that I will not part with a village of it; I will have it all mine. And, Kate,
when France is mine and I am yours, then yours is France and you are mine.
KATHERINE. I cannot tell vat is dat.
KING HENRY. No, Kate? I will tell thee in French, which I am sure will hang
upon my tongue like a new-married wife about her husband's neck, hardly to be
shook off. Je quand sur le possession de France, et quand vous avez le
possession de moi- let me see, what then? Saint Denis be my speed!- donc votre
est France et vous etes mienne. It is as easy for me, Kate, to conquer the
kingdom as to speak so much more French: I shall never move thee in French,
unless it be to laugh at me.
KATHERINE. Sauf votre honneur, le Francais que vous parlez, il est meilleur
que l'Anglais lequel je parle.
KING HENRY. No, faith, is't not, Kate; but thy speaking of my tongue, and I
thine, most truly falsely, must needs be granted to be much at one. But, Kate,
dost thou understand thus much English- Canst thou love me?
KATHERINE. I cannot tell.
KING HENRY. Can any of your neighbours tell, Kate? I'll ask them. Come, I
know thou lovest me; and at night, when you come into your closet, you'll
question this gentlewoman about me; and I know, Kate, you will to her dispraise
those parts in me that you love with your heart. But, good Kate, mock me
mercifully; the rather, gentle Princess, because I love thee cruelly. If ever
thou beest mine, Kate, as I have a saving faith within me tells me thou shalt, I
get thee with scambling, and thou must therefore needs prove a good
soldier-breeder. Shall not thou and I, between Saint Denis and Saint George,
compound a boy, half French, half English, that shall go to Constantinople and
take the Turk by the beard? Shall we not? What say'st thou, my fair
flower-de-luce?
KATHERINE. I do not know dat.
KING HENRY. No: 'tis hereafter to know, but now to promise; do but now
promise, Kate, you will endeavour for your French part of such a boy; and for my
English moiety take the word of a king and a bachelor. How answer you, la plus
belle Katherine du monde, mon tres cher et divin deesse?
KATHERINE. Your Majestee ave fausse French enough to deceive de most sage
damoiselle dat is en France.
KING HENRY. Now, fie upon my false French! By mine honour, in true English, I
love thee, Kate; by which honour I dare not swear thou lovest me; yet my blood
begins to flatter me that thou dost, notwithstanding the poor and untempering
effect of my visage. Now beshrew my father's ambition! He was thinking of civil
wars when he got me; therefore was I created with a stubborn outside, with an
aspect of iron, that when I come to woo ladies I fright them. But, in faith,
Kate, the elder I wax, the better I shall appear: my comfort is, that old age,
that in layer-up of beauty, can do no more spoil upon my face; thou hast me, if
thou hast me, at the worst; and thou shalt wear me, if thou wear me, better and
better. And therefore tell me, most fair Katherine, will you have me? Put off
your maiden blushes; avouch the thoughts of your heart with the looks of an
empress; take me by the hand and say 'Harry of England, I am thine.' Which word
thou shalt no sooner bless mine ear withal but I will tell thee aloud 'England
is thine, Ireland is thine, France is thine, and Henry Plantagenet is thine';
who, though I speak it before his face, if he be not fellow with the best king,
thou shalt find the best king of good fellows. Come, your answer in broken
music- for thy voice is music and thy English broken; therefore, Queen of all,
Katherine, break thy mind to me in broken English, wilt thou have me?
KATHERINE. Dat is as it shall please de roi mon pere.
KING HENRY. Nay, it will please him well, Kate- it shall please him, Kate.
KATHERINE. Den it sall also content me.
KING HENRY. Upon that I kiss your hand, and I can you my queen.
KATHERINE. Laissez, mon seigneur, laissez, laissez! Ma foi, je ne veux point
que vous abaissiez votre grandeur en baisant la main d'une, notre seigneur,
indigne serviteur; excusez-moi, je vous supplie, mon tres puissant seigneur.
KING HENRY. Then I will kiss your lips, Kate.
KATHERINE. Les dames et demoiselles pour etre baisees devant leur noces, il
n'est pas la coutume de France.
KING HENRY. Madame my interpreter, what says she?
ALICE. Dat it is not be de fashion pour le ladies of France- I cannot tell
vat is baiser en Anglish.
KING HENRY. To kiss.
ALICE. Your Majestee entendre bettre que moi.
KING HENRY. It is not a fashion for the maids in France to kiss before they
are married, would she say?
ALICE. Oui, vraiment.
KING HENRY. O Kate, nice customs curtsy to great kings. Dear Kate, you and I
cannot be confin'd within the weak list of a country's fashion; we are the
makers of manners, Kate; and the liberty that follows our places stops the mouth
of all find-faults- as I will do yours for upholding the nice fashion of your
country in denying me a kiss; therefore, patiently and yielding. [Kissing her]
You have witchcraft in your lips, Kate: there is more eloquence in a sugar touch
of them than in the tongues of the French council; and they should sooner
persuade Henry of England than a general petition of monarchs. Here comes your
father.
Enter the FRENCH POWER and the ENGLISH LORDS
BURGUNDY. God save your Majesty! My royal cousin, Teach you our princess
English?
KING HENRY. I would have her learn, my fair cousin, how perfectly I love her;
and that is good English.
BURGUNDY. Is she not apt?
KING HENRY. Our tongue is rough, coz, and my condition is not smooth; so
that, having neither the voice nor the heart of flattery about me, I cannot so
conjure up the spirit of love in her that he will appear in his true likeness.
BURGUNDY. Pardon the frankness of my mirth, if I answer you for that. If you
would conjure in her, you must make a circle; if conjure up love in her in his
true likeness, he must appear naked and blind. Can you blame her, then, being a
maid yet ros'd over with the virgin crimson of modesty, if she deny the
appearance of a naked blind boy in her naked seeing self? It were, my lord, a
hard condition for a maid to consign to.
KING HENRY. Yet they do wink and yield, as love is blind and enforces.
BURGUNDY. They are then excus'd, my lord, when they see not what they do.
KING HENRY. Then, good my lord, teach your cousin to consent winking.
BURGUNDY. I will wink on her to consent, my lord, if you will teach her to
know my meaning; for maids well summer'd and warm kept are like flies at
Bartholomew-tide, blind, though they have their eyes; and then they will endure
handling, which before would not abide looking on.
KING HENRY. This moral ties me over to time and a hot summer; and so I shall
catch the fly, your cousin, in the latter end, and she must be blind too.
BURGUNDY. As love is, my lord, before it loves.
KING HENRY. It is so; and you may, some of you, thank love for my blindness,
who cannot see many a fair French city for one fair French maid that stands in
my way.
FRENCH KING. Yes, my lord, you see them perspectively, the cities turned into
a maid; for they are all girdled with maiden walls that war hath never ent'red.
KING HENRY. Shall Kate be my wife?
FRENCH KING. So please you.
KING HENRY. I am content, so the maiden cities you talk of may wait on her;
so the maid that stood in the way for my wish shall show me the way to my will.
FRENCH KING. We have consented to all terms of reason.
KING HENRY. Is't so, my lords of England?
WESTMORELAND. The king hath granted every article: His daughter first; and
then in sequel, all, According to their firm proposed natures.
EXETER. Only he hath not yet subscribed this:
Where your Majesty demands that the King of France, having any occasion to
write for matter of grant, shall name your Highness in this form and with this
addition, in French, Notre tres cher fils Henri, Roi d'Angleterre, Heritier de
France; and thus in Latin, Praeclarissimus filius noster Henricus, Rex Angliae
et Haeres Franciae.
FRENCH KING. Nor this I have not, brother, so denied But our request shall
make me let it pass.
KING HENRY. I pray you, then, in love and dear alliance, Let that one article
rank with the rest; And thereupon give me your daughter.
FRENCH KING. Take her, fair son, and from her blood raise up Issue to me;
that the contending kingdoms Of France and England, whose very shores look pale
With envy of each other's happiness, May cease their hatred; and this dear
conjunction Plant neighbourhood and Christian-like accord In their sweet bosoms,
that never war advance His bleeding sword 'twixt England and fair France.
LORDS. Amen!
KING HENRY. Now, welcome, Kate; and bear me witness all, That here I kiss her
as my sovereign queen.[Floulish]
QUEEN ISABEL. God, the best maker of all marriages, Combine your hearts in
one, your realms in one! As man and wife, being two, are one in love, So be
there 'twixt your kingdoms such a spousal That never may ill office or fell
jealousy, Which troubles oft the bed of blessed marriage, Thrust in between the
paction of these kingdoms, To make divorce of their incorporate league; That
English may as French, French Englishmen, Receive each other. God speak this
Amen!
ALL. Amen!
KING HENRY. Prepare we for our marriage; on which day, My Lord of Burgundy,
we'll take your oath, And all the peers', for surety of our leagues. Then shall
I swear to Kate, and you to me, And may our oaths well kept and prosp'rous be!
Sennet. Exeunt EPILOGUE EPILOGUE.
Enter CHORUS
CHORUS. Thus far, with rough and all-unable pen, Our bending author hath
pursu'd the story, In little room confining mighty men, Mangling by starts the
full course of their glory. Small time, but, in that small, most greatly lived
This star of England. Fortune made his sword; By which the world's best garden
he achieved, And of it left his son imperial lord. Henry the Sixth, in infant
bands crown'd king Of France and England, did this king succeed; Whose state so
many had the managing That they lost France and made his England bleed; Which
oft our stage hath shown; and, for their sake, In your fair minds let this
acceptance take.Exit
-THE END-
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