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The Complete Works of William Shakespeare

Part 19 out of 63

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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

Eastcheap. Before the Boar's Head tavern


HOSTESS. Prithee, honey-sweet husband, let me bring thee to
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
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

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.


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



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


France. Before Harfleur

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]

Before Harfleur


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.

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.


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
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.


GOWER. Here 'a comes; and the Scots captain, Captain Jamy, with
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,
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
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

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]

Rouen. The FRENCH KING'S palace


KATHERINE. Alice, tu as ete en Angleterre, et tu parles bien le
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.

The FRENCH KING'S palace

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

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.


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
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

Drum and colours. Enter the KING and his poor soldiers,

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
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

The French camp near Agincourt

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
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
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
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
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
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
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 shall 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
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
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.


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
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
CONSTABLE. If the English had any apprehension, they would run
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




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

France. The English camp at Agincourt


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.


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.


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?
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.


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.
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,

COURT. Brother John Bates, is not that the morning which breaks
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
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.
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
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.


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.


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

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.


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?


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.


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

The English camp


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.
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.


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

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
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

Another part of the field of battle


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

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

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