Chapter II: Part 2

King. Once more vnto the Breach, Deare friends, once more; Or close the Wall vp with our English dead: In Peace, there's nothing so becomes a man, As modest stillnesse, and humilitie: But when the blast of Warre blowes in our eares, Then imitate the action of the Tyger: Stiffen the sinewes, commune vp the blood, Disguise faire Nature with hard-fauour'd Rage: Then lend the Eye a terrible aspect: Let it pry through the portage of the Head, Like the Brasse Cannon: let the Brow o'rewhelme it, As fearefully, as doth a galled Rocke O're-hang and iutty his confounded Base, Swill'd with the wild and wastfull Ocean. Now set the Teeth, and stretch the Nosthrill wide, Hold hard the Breath, and bend vp euery Spirit To his full height. On, on, you Noblish English, Whose blood is fet from Fathers of Warre-proofe: Fathers, that like so many Alexanders, Haue in these parts from Morne till Euen 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 Coppy now to men of grosser blood, And teach them how to Warre. And you good Yeomen, Whose Lyms were made in England; shew vs here The mettell of your Pasture: let vs sweare, That you are worth your breeding: which I doubt not: For there is none of you so meane and base, That hath not Noble luster in your eyes. I see you stand like Grey-hounds in the slips, Straying vpon the Start. The Game's afoot: Follow your Spirit; and vpon this Charge, Cry, God for Harry, England, and S. George.

Alarum, and Chambers goe off.

Enter Nim, Bardolph, Pistoll, and Boy.

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

Nim. 'Pray thee Corporall stay, the Knocks are too hot: and for mine owne part, I haue not a Case of Liues: the humor of it is too hot, that is the very plaine-Song of it

Pist. The plaine-Song is most iust: for humors doe abound: Knocks goe and come: Gods Vassals drop and dye: and Sword and Shield, in bloody Field, doth winne immortall fame

Boy. Would I were in a Ale-house in London, I would giue all my fame for a Pot of Ale, and safetie

Pist. And I: If wishes would preuayle with me, my purpose should not fayle with me; but thither would I high

Boy. As duly, but not as truly, as Bird doth sing on bough. Enter Fluellen.

Flu. Vp to the breach, you Dogges; auaunt you Cullions

Pist. Be mercifull great Duke to men of Mould: abate thy Rage, abate thy manly Rage; abate thy Rage, great Duke. Good Bawcock bate thy Rage: vse lenitie sweet Chuck

Nim. These be good humors: your Honor wins bad humors. Enter.

Boy. As young as I am, I haue obseru'd these three Swashers: I am Boy to them all three, but all they three, though they would serue me, could not be Man to me; for indeed three such Antiques doe not amount to a man: for Bardolph, hee is white-liuer'd, and red-fac'd; by the meanes whereof, a faces it out, but fights not: for Pistoll, hee hath a killing Tongue, and a quiet Sword; by the meanes whereof, a breakes Words, and keepes whole Weapons: for Nim, hee hath heard, that men of few Words are the best men, and therefore hee scornes to say his Prayers, lest a should be thought a Coward: but his few bad Words are matcht with as few good Deeds; for a neuer broke any mans Head but his owne, and that was against a Post, when he was drunke. They will steale any thing, and call it Purchase. Bardolph stole a Lute-case, bore it twelue Leagues, and sold it for three halfepence. Nim and Bardolph are sworne Brothers in filching: and in Callice they stole a fire-shouell. I knew by that peece of Seruice, the men would carry Coales. They would haue me as familiar with mens Pockets, as their Gloues or their Hand-kerchers: which makes much against my Manhood, if I should take from anothers Pocket, to put into mine; for it is plaine pocketting vp of Wrongs. I must leaue them, and seeke some better Seruice: their Villany goes against my weake stomacke, and therefore I must cast it vp. Enter.

Enter Gower.

Gower. Captaine Fluellen, you must come presently to the Mynes; the Duke of Gloucester would speake with you

Flu. To the Mynes? Tell you the Duke, it is not so good to come to the Mynes: for looke you, the Mynes is not according to the disciplines of the Warre; the concauities of it is not sufficient: for looke you, th' athuersarie, you may discusse vnto the Duke, looke you, is digt himselfe foure yard vnder the Countermines: by Cheshu, I thinke a will plowe vp all, if there is not better directions

Gower. The Duke of Gloucester, to whom the Order of the Siege is giuen, is altogether directed by an Irish man, a very valiant Gentleman yfaith

Welch. It is Captaine Makmorrice, is it not? Gower. I thinke it be

Welch. By Cheshu he is an Asse, as in the World, I will verifie as much in his Beard: he ha's no more directions in the true disciplines of the Warres, looke you, of the Roman disciplines, then is a Puppy-dog. Enter Makmorrice, and Captaine Iamy.

Gower. Here a comes, and the Scots Captaine, Captaine Iamy, with him

Welch. Captaine Iamy is a maruellous falorous Gentleman, that is certain, and of great expedition and knowledge in th' aunchiant Warres, vpon my particular knowledge of his directions: by Cheshu he will maintaine his Argument as well as any Militarie man in the World, in the disciplines of the Pristine Warres of the Romans

Scot. I say gudday, Captaine Fluellen

Welch. Godden to your Worship, good Captaine Iames

Gower. How now Captaine Mackmorrice, haue you quit the Mynes? haue the Pioners giuen o're? Irish. By Chrish Law tish ill done: the Worke ish giue ouer, the Trompet sound the Retreat. By my Hand I sweare, and my fathers Soule, the Worke ish ill done: it ish giue ouer: I would haue blowed vp the Towne, so Chrish saue me law, in an houre. O tish ill done, tish ill done: by my Hand tish ill done

Welch. Captaine Mackmorrice, I beseech you now, will you voutsafe me, looke you, a few disputations with you, as partly touching or concerning the disciplines of the Warre, the Roman Warres, in the way of Argument, looke you, and friendly communication: partly to satisfie my Opinion, and partly for the satisfaction, looke you, of my Mind: as touching the direction of the Militarie discipline, that is the Point

Scot. It sall be vary gud, gud feith, gud Captens bath, and I sall quit you with gud leue, as I may pick occasion: that sall I mary

Irish. It is no time to discourse, so Chrish saue me: the day is hot, and the Weather, and the Warres, and the King, and the Dukes: it is no time to discourse, the Town is beseech'd: and the Trumpet call vs to the breech, and we talke, and be Chrish do nothing, tis shame for vs all: so God sa'me tis shame to stand still, it is shame by my hand: and there is Throats to be cut, and Workes to be done, and there ish nothing done, so Christ sa'me law

Scot. By the Mes, ere theise eyes of mine take themselues to slomber, ayle de gud seruice, or Ile ligge i'th' grund for it; ay, or goe to death: and Ile pay't as valorously as I may, that sal I suerly do, that is the breff and the long: mary, I wad full faine heard some question tween you tway

Welch. Captaine Mackmorrice, I thinke, looke you, vnder your correction, there is not many of your Nation

Irish. Of my Nation? What ish my Nation? Ish a Villaine, and a Basterd, and a Knaue, and a Rascall. What ish my Nation? Who talkes of my Nation? Welch. Looke you, if you take the matter otherwise then is meant, Captaine Mackmorrice, peraduenture I shall thinke you doe not vse me with that affabilitie, as in discretion you ought to vse me, looke you, being as good a man as your selfe, both in the disciplines of Warre, and in the deriuation of my Birth, and in other particularities

Irish. I doe not know you so good a man as my selfe: so Chrish saue me, I will cut off your Head

Gower. Gentlemen both, you will mistake each other

Scot. A, that's a foule fault.

A Parley.

Gower. The Towne sounds a Parley

Welch. Captaine Mackmorrice, when there is more better oportunitie to be required, looke you, I will be so bold as to tell you, I know the disciplines of Warre: and there is an end. Enter.

Enter the King and all his Traine before the Gates.

King. How yet resolues the Gouernour of the Towne? This is the latest Parle we will admit: Therefore to our best mercy giue your selues, Or like to men prowd of destruction, Defie vs to our worst: for as I am a Souldier, A Name that in my thoughts becomes me best; If I begin the batt'rie once againe, I will not leaue the halfe-atchieued Harflew, Till in her ashes she lye buryed. The Gates of Mercy shall be all shut vp, And the flesh'd Souldier, rough and hard of heart, In libertie of bloody hand, shall raunge With Conscience wide as Hell, mowing like Grasse Your fresh faire Virgins, and your flowring Infants. What is it then to me, if impious Warre, Arrayed in flames like to the Prince of Fiends, Doe with his smyrcht complexion all fell feats, Enlynckt to wast and desolation? What is't to me, when you your selues are cause, If your pure Maydens fall into the hand Of hot and forcing Violation? What Reyne can hold licentious Wickednesse, When downe the Hill he holds his fierce Carriere? We may as bootlesse spend our vaine Command Vpon th' enraged Souldiers in their spoyle, As send Precepts to the Leuiathan, to come ashore. Therefore, you men of Harflew, Take pitty of your Towne and of your People, Whiles yet my Souldiers are in my Command, Whiles yet the coole and temperate Wind of Grace O're-blowes the filthy and contagious Clouds Of heady Murther, Spoyle, and Villany. If not: why in a moment looke to see The blind and bloody Souldier, with foule hand Desire the Locks of your shrill-shriking Daughters: Your Fathers taken by the siluer Beards, And their most reuerend Heads dasht to the Walls: Your naked Infants spitted vpon Pykes, Whiles the mad Mothers, with their howles confus'd, Doe breake the Clouds; as did the Wiues of Iewry, At Herods bloody-hunting slaughter-men. What say you? Will you yeeld, and this auoyd? Or guiltie in defence, be thus destroy'd. Enter Gouernour.

Gouer. Our expectation hath this day an end: The Dolphin, whom of Succours we entreated, Returnes vs, that his Powers are yet not ready, To rayse so great a Siege: Therefore great King, We yeeld our Towne and Liues to thy soft Mercy: Enter our Gates, dispose of vs and ours, For we no longer are defensible

King. Open your Gates: Come Vnckle Exeter, Goe you and enter Harflew; there remaine, And fortifie it strongly 'gainst the French: Vse mercy to them all for vs, deare Vnckle. The Winter comming on, and Sicknesse growing Vpon our Souldiers, we will retyre to Calis. To night in Harflew will we be your Guest, To morrow for the March are we addrest.

Flourish, and enter the Towne.

Enter Katherine and an old Gentlewoman.

Kathe. Alice, tu as este en Angleterre, & tu bien parlas le Language

Alice. En peu Madame

Kath. Ie te prie m' ensigniez, il faut que ie apprend a parlen: Comient appelle vous le main en Anglois? Alice. Le main il & appelle de Hand

Kath. De Hand

Alice. E le doyts

Kat. Le doyts, ma foy Ie oublie, e doyt mays, ie me souemeray le doyts ie pense qu'ils ont appelle de fingres, ou de fingres

Alice. Le main de Hand, le doyts le Fingres, ie pense que ie suis le bon escholier

Kath. I'ay gaynie diux mots d' Anglois vistement, coment appelle vous le ongles? Alice. Le ongles, les appellons de Nayles

Kath. De Nayles escoute: dites moy, si ie parle bien: de Hand, de Fingres, e de Nayles

Alice. C'est bien dict Madame, il & fort bon Anglois

Kath. Dites moy l' Anglois pour le bras

Alice. De Arme, Madame

Kath. E de coudee

Alice. D' Elbow

Kath. D' Elbow: Ie men fay le repiticio de touts les mots que vous maves, apprins des a present

Alice. Il & trop difficile Madame, comme Ie pense

Kath. Excuse moy Alice escoute, d' Hand, de Fingre, de Nayles, d' Arma, de Bilbow

Alice. D' Elbow, Madame

Kath. O Seigneur Dieu, ie men oublie d' Elbow, coment appelle vous le col

Alice. De Nick, Madame

Kath. De Nick, e le menton

Alice. De Chin

Kath. De Sin: le col de Nick, le menton de Sin

Alice. Ouy. Sauf vostre honneur en verite vous pronouncies les mots ausi droict, que le Natifs d' Angleterre

Kath. Ie ne doute point d' apprendre par de grace de Dieu, & en peu de temps

Alice. N' aue vos y desia oublie ce que ie vous a ensignie

Kath. Nome ie recitera a vous promptement, d' Hand, de Fingre, de Maylees

Alice. De Nayles, Madame

Kath. De Nayles, de Arme, de Ilbow

Alice. Sans vostre honeus d' Elbow

Kath. Ainsi de ie d' Elbow, de Nick, & de Sin: coment appelle vous les pied & de roba

Alice. Le Foot Madame, & le Count

Kath. Le Foot, & le Count: O Seignieur Dieu, il sont le mots de son mauvais corruptible grosse & impudique, & non pour le Dames de Honeur d' vser: Ie ne voudray pronouncer ce mots deuant le Seigneurs de France, pour toute le monde, fo le Foot & le Count, neant moys, Ie recitera vn autrefoys ma lecon ensembe, d' Hand, de Fingre, de Nayles, d' Arme, d' Elbow, de Nick, de Sin, de Foot, le Count

Alice. Excellent, Madame

Kath. C'est asses pour vne foyes, alons nous a diner. Enter.

Enter the King of France, the Dolphin, the Constable of France, and others.

King. 'Tis certaine he hath past the Riuer Some

Const. And if he be not fought withall, my Lord, Let vs not liue in France: let vs quit all, And giue our Vineyards to a barbarous People

Dolph. O Dieu viuant: Shall a few Sprayes of vs, The emptying of our Fathers Luxurie, Our Syens, put in wilde and sauage Stock, Spirt vp so suddenly into the Clouds, And ouer-looke their Grafters? Brit. Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards: Mort du ma vie, if they march along Vnfought withall, but I will sell my Dukedome, To buy a slobbry and a durtie Farme In that nooke-shotten Ile of Albion

Const. Dieu de Battailes, where haue they this mettell? Is not their Clymate foggy, raw, and dull? On whom, as in despight, the Sunne lookes pale, Killing their Fruit with frownes. Can sodden Water, A Drench for sur-reyn'd Iades, their Barly broth, Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat? And shall our quick blood, spirited with Wine, Seeme frostie? O, for honor of our Land, Let vs not hang like roping Isyckles Vpon our Houses Thatch, whiles a more frostie People Sweat drops of gallant Youth in our rich fields: Poore we call them, in their Natiue Lords

Dolphin. By Faith and Honor, Our Madames mock at vs, and plainely say, Our Mettell is bred out, and they will giue Their bodyes to the Lust of English Youth, To new-store France with Bastard Warriors

Brit. They bid vs to the English Dancing-Schooles, And teach Lauolta's high, and swift Carranto's, Saying, our Grace is onely in our Heeles, And that we are most loftie Run-awayes

King. Where is Montioy the Herald? speed him hence, Let him greet England with our sharpe defiance. Vp Princes, and with spirit of Honor edged, More sharper then your Swords, high to the field: Charles Delabreth, High Constable of France, You Dukes of Orleance, Burbon, and of Berry, Alanson, Brabant, Bar, and Burgonie, Iaques Chattillion, Rambures, Vandemont, Beumont, Grand Pree, Roussi, and Faulconbridge, Loys, Lestrale, Bouciquall, and Charaloyes, High Dukes, great Princes, Barons, Lords, and Kings; For your great Seats, now quit you of great shames: Barre Harry England, that sweepes through our Land With Penons painted in the blood of Harflew: Rush on his Hoast, as doth the melted Snow Vpon the Valleyes, whose low Vassall Seat, The Alpes doth spit, and void his rhewme vpon. Goe downe vpon him, you haue Power enough, And in a Captiue Chariot, into Roan Bring him our Prisoner

Const. This becomes the Great. Sorry am I his numbers are so few, His Souldiers sick, and famisht in their March: For I am sure, when he shall see our Army, Hee'le drop his heart into the sinck of feare, And for atchieuement, offer vs his Ransome

King. Therefore Lord Constable, hast on Montioy, And let him say to England, that we send, To know what willing Ransome he will giue. Prince Dolphin, you shall stay with vs in Roan

Dolph. Not so, I doe beseech your Maiestie

King. Be patient, for you shall remaine with vs. Now forth Lord Constable, and Princes all, And quickly bring vs word of Englands fall.

Exeunt.

Enter Captaines, English and Welch, Gower and Fluellen.

Gower. How now Captaine Fluellen, come you from the Bridge? Flu. I assure you, there is very excellent Seruices committed at the Bridge

Gower. Is the Duke of Exeter safe? Flu. The Duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as Agamemnon, and a man that I loue and honour with my soule, and my heart, and my dutie, and my liue, and my liuing, and my vttermost power. He is not, God be praysed and blessed, any hurt in the World, but keepes the Bridge most valiantly, with excellent discipline. There is an aunchient Lieutenant there at the Pridge, I thinke in my very conscience hee is as valiant a man as Marke Anthony, and hee is a man of no estimation in the World, but I did see him doe as gallant seruice

Gower. What doe you call him? Flu. Hee is call'd aunchient Pistoll

Gower. I know him not. Enter Pistoll.

Flu. Here is the man

Pist. Captaine, I thee beseech to doe me fauours: the Duke of Exeter doth loue thee well

Flu. I, I prayse God, and I haue merited some loue at his hands

Pist. Bardolph, a Souldier firme and sound of heart, and of buxome valour, hath by cruell Fate, and giddie Fortunes furious fickle Wheele, that Goddesse blind, that stands vpon the rolling restlesse Stone

Flu. By your patience, aunchient Pistoll: Fortune is painted blinde, with a Muffler afore his eyes, to signifie to you, that Fortune is blinde; and shee is painted also with a Wheele, to signifie to you, which is the Morall of it, that shee is turning and inconstant, and mutabilitie, and variation: and her foot, looke you, is fixed vpon a Sphericall Stone, which rowles, and rowles, and rowles: in good truth, the Poet makes a most excellent description of it: Fortune is an excellent Morall

Pist. Fortune is Bardolphs foe, and frownes on him: for he hath stolne a Pax, and hanged must a be: a damned death: let Gallowes gape for Dogge, let Man goe free, and let not Hempe his Wind-pipe suffocate: but Exeter hath giuen the doome of death, for Pax of little price. Therefore goe speake, the Duke will heare thy voyce; and let not Bardolphs vitall thred bee cut with edge of Penny-Cord, and vile reproach. Speake Captaine for his Life, and I will thee requite

Flu. Aunchient Pistoll, I doe partly vnderstand your meaning

Pist. Why then reioyce therefore

Flu. Certainly Aunchient, it is not a thing to reioyce at: for if, looke you, he were my Brother, I would desire the Duke to vse his good pleasure, and put him to execution; for discipline ought to be vsed

Pist. Dye, and be dam'd, and Figo for thy friendship

Flu. It is well

Pist. The Figge of Spaine. Enter.

Flu. Very good

Gower. Why, this is an arrant counterfeit Rascall, I remember him now: a Bawd, a Cut-purse

Flu. Ile assure you, a vtt'red as praue words at the Pridge, as you shall see in a Summers day: but it is very well: what he ha's spoke to me, that is well I warrant you, when time is serue

Gower. Why 'tis a Gull, a Foole, a Rogue, that now and then goes to the Warres, to grace himselfe at his returne into London, vnder the forme of a Souldier: and such fellowes are perfit in the Great Commanders Names, and they will learne you by rote where Seruices were done; at such and such a Sconce, at such a Breach, at such a Conuoy: who came off brauely, who was shot, who disgrac'd, what termes the Enemy stood on: and this they conne perfitly in the phrase of Warre; which they tricke vp with new-tuned Oathes: and what a Beard of the Generalls Cut, and a horride Sute of the Campe, will doe among foming Bottles, and Ale-washt Wits, is wonderfull to be thought on: but you must learne to know such slanders of the age, or else you may be maruellously mistooke

Flu. I tell you what, Captaine Gower: I doe perceiue hee is not the man that hee would gladly make shew to the World hee is: if I finde a hole in his Coat, I will tell him my minde: hearke you, the King is comming, and I must speake with him from the Pridge.

Drum and Colours. Enter the King and his poore Souldiers.

Flu. God plesse your Maiestie

King. How now Fluellen, cam'st thou from the Bridge? Flu. I, so please your Maiestie: The Duke of Exeter ha's very gallantly maintain'd the Pridge; the French is gone off, looke you, and there is gallant and most praue passages: marry, th' athuersarie was haue possession of the Pridge, but he is enforced to retyre, and the Duke of Exeter is Master of the Pridge: I can tell your Maiestie, the Duke is a praue man

King. What men haue you lost, Fluellen? Flu. The perdition of th' athuersarie hath beene very great, reasonnable great: marry for my part, I thinke the Duke hath lost neuer a man, but one that is like to be executed for robbing a Church, one Bardolph, if your Maiestie know the man: his face is all bubukles and whelkes, and knobs, and flames a fire, and his lippes blowes at his nose, and it is like a coale of fire, sometimes plew, and sometimes red, but his nose is executed, and his fire's out

King. Wee would haue all such offendors so cut off: and we giue expresse charge, that in our Marches through the Countrey, there be nothing compell'd from the Villages; nothing taken, but pay'd for: none of the French vpbrayded or abused in disdainefull Language; for when Leuitie and Crueltie play for a Kingdome, the gentler Gamester is the soonest winner.

Tucket. Enter Mountioy.

Mountioy. You know me by my habit

King. Well then, I know thee: what shall I know of thee? Mountioy. My Masters mind

King. Vnfold it

Mountioy. Thus sayes my King: Say thou to Harry of England, Though we seem'd dead, we did but sleepe: Aduantage is a better Souldier then rashnesse. Tell him, wee could haue rebuk'd him at Harflewe, but that wee thought not good to bruise an iniurie, till it were full ripe. Now wee speake vpon our Q. and our voyce is imperiall: England shall repent his folly, see his weakenesse, and admire our sufferance. Bid him therefore consider of his ransome, which must proportion the losses we haue borne, the subiects we haue lost, the disgrace we haue digested; which in weight to re-answer, his pettinesse would bow vnder. For our losses, his Exchequer is too poore; for th' effusion of our bloud, the Muster of his Kingdome too faint a number; and for our disgrace, his owne person kneeling at our feet, but a weake and worthlesse satisfaction. To this adde defiance: and tell him for conclusion, he hath betrayed his followers, whose condemnation is pronounc't: So farre my King and Master; so much my Office

King. What is thy name? I know thy qualitie

Mount. Mountioy

King. Thou doo'st thy Office fairely. Turne thee backe, And tell thy King, I doe not seeke him now, But could be willing to march on to Callice, Without impeachment: for to say the sooth, Though 'tis no wisdome to confesse so much Vnto an enemie of Craft and Vantage, My people are with sicknesse much enfeebled, My numbers lessen'd: and those few I haue, Almost no better then so many French; Who when they were in health, I tell thee Herald, I thought, vpon one payre of English Legges Did march three Frenchmen. Yet forgiue me God, That I doe bragge thus; this your ayre of France Hath blowne that vice in me. I must repent: Goe therefore tell thy Master, heere I am; My Ransome, is this frayle and worthlesse Trunke; My Army, but a weake and sickly Guard: Yet God before, tell him we will come on, Though France himselfe, and such another Neighbor Stand in our way. There's for thy labour Mountioy. Goe bid thy Master well aduise himselfe. If we may passe, we will: if we be hindred, We shall your tawnie ground with your red blood Discolour: and so Mountioy, fare you well. The summe of all our Answer is but this: We would not seeke a Battaile as we are, Nor as we are, we say we will not shun it: So tell your Master

Mount. I shall deliuer so: Thankes to your Highnesse

Glouc. I hope they will not come vpon vs now

King. We are in Gods hand, Brother, not in theirs: March to the Bridge, it now drawes toward night, Beyond the Riuer wee'le encampe our selues, And on to morrow bid them march away.

Exeunt.

Enter the Constable of France, the Lord Ramburs, Orleance, Dolphin, with others.

Const. Tut, I haue the best Armour of the World: would it were day

Orleance. You haue an excellent Armour: but let my Horse haue his due

Const. It is the best Horse of Europe

Orleance. Will it neuer be Morning? Dolph. My Lord of Orleance, and my Lord High Constable, you talke of Horse and Armour? Orleance. You are as well prouided of both, as any Prince in the World

Dolph. What a long Night is this? I will not change my Horse with any that treades but on foure postures: ch' ha: he bounds from the Earth, as if his entrayles were hayres: le Cheual volante, the Pegasus, ches les narines de feu. When I bestryde him, I soare, I am a Hawke: he trots the ayre: the Earth sings, when he touches it: the basest horne of his hoofe, is more Musicall then the Pipe of Hermes

Orleance. Hee's of the colour of the Nutmeg

Dolph. And of the heat of the Ginger. It is a Beast for Perseus: hee is pure Ayre and Fire; and the dull Elements of Earth and Water neuer appeare in him, but only in patient stillnesse while his Rider mounts him: hee is indeede a Horse, and all other Iades you may call Beasts

Const. Indeed my Lord, it is a most absolute and excellent Horse

Dolph. It is the Prince of Palfrayes, his Neigh is like the bidding of a Monarch, and his countenance enforces Homage

Orleance. No more Cousin

Dolph. Nay, the man hath no wit, that cannot from the rising of the Larke to the lodging of the Lambe, varie deserued prayse on my Palfray: it is a Theame as fluent as the Sea: Turne the Sands into eloquent tongues, and my Horse is argument for them all: 'tis a subiect for a Soueraigne to reason on, and for a Soueraignes Soueraigne to ride on: And for the World, familiar to vs, and vnknowne, to lay apart their particular Functions, and wonder at him, I once writ a Sonnet in his prayse, and began thus, Wonder of Nature

Orleance. I haue heard a Sonnet begin so to ones Mistresse

Dolph. Then did they imitate that which I compos'd to my Courser, for my Horse is my Mistresse

Orleance. Your Mistresse beares well

Dolph. Me well, which is the prescript prayse and perfection of a good and particular Mistresse

Const. Nay, for me thought yesterday your Mistresse shrewdly shooke your back

Dolph. So perhaps did yours

Const. Mine was not bridled

Dolph. O then belike she was old and gentle, and you rode like a Kerne of Ireland, your French Hose off, and in your strait Strossers

Const. You haue good iudgement in Horsemanship

Dolph. Be warn'd by me then: they that ride so, and ride not warily, fall into foule Boggs: I had rather haue my Horse to my Mistresse

Const. I had as liue haue my Mistresse a Iade

Dolph. I tell thee Constable, my Mistresse weares his owne hayre

Const. I could make as true a boast as that, if I had a Sow to my Mistresse

Dolph. Le chien est retourne a son propre vemissement est la leuye lauee au bourbier: thou mak'st vse of any thing

Const. Yet doe I not vse my Horse for my Mistresse, or any such Prouerbe, so little kin to the purpose

Ramb. My Lord Constable, the Armour that I saw in your Tent to night, are those Starres or Sunnes vpon it? Const. Starres my Lord

Dolph. Some of them will fall to morrow, I hope

Const. And yet my Sky shall not want

Dolph. That may be, for you beare a many superfluously, and 'twere more honor some were away

Const. Eu'n as your Horse beares your prayses, who would trot as well, were some of your bragges dismounted

Dolph. Would I were able to loade him with his desert. Will it neuer be day? I will trot to morrow a mile, and my way shall be paued with English Faces

Const. I will not say so, for feare I should be fac't out of my way: but I would it were morning, for I would faine be about the eares of the English

Ramb. Who will goe to Hazard with me for twentie Prisoners? Const. You must first goe your selfe to hazard, ere you haue them

Dolph. 'Tis Mid-night, Ile goe arme my selfe. Enter.

Orleance. The Dolphin longs for morning

Ramb. He longs to eate the English

Const. I thinke he will eate all he kills

Orleance. By the white Hand of my Lady, hee's a gallant Prince

Const. Sweare by her Foot, that she may tread out the Oath

Orleance. He is simply the most actiue Gentleman of France

Const. Doing is actiuitie, and he will still be doing

Orleance. He neuer did harme, that I heard of

Const. Nor will doe none to morrow: hee will keepe that good name still

Orleance. I know him to be valiant

Const. I was told that, by one that knowes him better then you

Orleance. What's hee? Const. Marry hee told me so himselfe, and hee sayd hee car'd not who knew it

Orleance. Hee needes not, it is no hidden vertue in him

Const. By my faith Sir, but it is: neuer any body saw it, but his Lacquey: 'tis a hooded valour, and when it appeares, it will bate

Orleance. Ill will neuer sayd well

Const. I will cap that Prouerbe with, There is flatterie in friendship

Orleance. And I will take vp that with, Giue the Deuill his due

Const. Well plac't: there stands your friend for the Deuill: haue at the very eye of that Prouerbe with, A Pox of the Deuill

Orleance. You are the better at Prouerbs, by how much a Fooles Bolt is soone shot

Const. You haue shot ouer

Orleance. 'Tis not the first time you were ouer-shot. Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My Lord high Constable, the English lye within fifteene hundred paces of your Tents

Const. Who hath measur'd the ground? Mess. The Lord Grandpree

Const. A valiant and most expert Gentleman. Would it were day? Alas poore Harry of England: hee longs not for the Dawning, as wee doe

Orleance. What a wretched and peeuish fellow is this King of England, to mope with his fat-brain'd followers so farre out of his knowledge

Const. If the English had any apprehension, they would runne away

Orleance. That they lack: for if their heads had any intellectuall Armour, they could neuer weare such heauie Head-pieces

Ramb. That Iland of England breedes very valiant Creatures; their Mastiffes are of vnmatchable courage

Orleance. Foolish Curres, that runne winking into the mouth of a Russian Beare, and haue their heads crusht like rotten Apples: you may as well say, that's a valiant Flea, that dare eate his breakefast on the Lippe of a Lyon

Const. Iust, iust: and the men doe sympathize with the Mastiffes, in robustious and rough comming on, leauing their Wits with their Wiues: and then giue them great Meales of Beefe, and Iron and Steele; they will eate like Wolues, and fight like Deuils

Orleance. I, but these English are shrowdly out of Beefe

Const. Then shall we finde to morrow, they haue only stomackes to eate, and none to fight. Now is it time to arme: come, shall we about it? Orleance. It is now two a Clock: but let me see, by ten Wee shall haue each a hundred English men.

Exeunt.

Actus Tertius.

Chorus.

Now entertaine coniecture of a time, When creeping Murmure and the poring Darke Fills the wide Vessell of the Vniuerse. From Camp to Camp, through the foule Womb of Night The Humme of eyther Army stilly sounds; That the fixt Centinels almost receiue The secret Whispers of each others Watch. Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames Each Battaile sees the others vmber'd face. Steed threatens Steed, in high and boastfull Neighs Piercing the Nights dull Eare: and from the Tents, The Armourers accomplishing the Knights, With busie Hammers closing Riuets vp, Giue dreadfull note of preparation. The Countrey Cocks doe crow, the Clocks doe towle: And the third howre of drowsie Morning nam'd, Prowd of their Numbers, and secure in Soule, The confident and ouer-lustie French, Doe the low-rated English play at Dice; And chide the creeple-tardy-gated Night, Who like a foule and ougly Witch doth limpe So tediously away. The poore condemned English, Like Sacrifices, by their watchfull Fires Sit patiently, and inly ruminate The Mornings danger: and their gesture sad, Inuesting lanke-leane Cheekes, and Warre-worne Coats, Presented them vnto the gazing Moone So many horride Ghosts. O now, who will behold The Royall Captaine of this ruin'd Band Walking from Watch to Watch, from Tent to Tent; Let him cry, Prayse and Glory on his head: For forth he goes, and visits all his Hoast, Bids them good morrow with a modest Smyle, And calls them Brothers, Friends, and Countreymen. Vpon his Royall Face there is no note, How dread an Army hath enrounded him; Nor doth he dedicate one iot of Colour Vnto the wearie and all-watched Night: But freshly lookes, and ouer-beares Attaint, With chearefull semblance, and sweet Maiestie: That euery Wretch, pining and pale before, Beholding him, plucks comfort from his Lookes. A Largesse vniuersall, like the Sunne, His liberall Eye doth giue to euery one, Thawing cold feare, that meane and gentle all Behold, as may vnworthinesse define. A little touch of Harry in the Night, And so our Scene must to the Battaile flye: Where, O for pitty, we shall much disgrace, With foure or fiue most vile and ragged foyles, (Right ill dispos'd, in brawle ridiculous) The Name of Agincourt: Yet sit and see, Minding true things, by what their Mock'ries bee. Enter.

Enter the King, Bedford, and Gloucester.

King. Gloster, 'tis true that we are in great danger, The greater therefore should our Courage be. God morrow Brother Bedford: God Almightie, There is some soule of goodnesse in things euill, Would men obseruingly distill it out. For our bad Neighbour makes vs early stirrers, Which is both healthfull, and good husbandry. Besides, they are our outward Consciences, And Preachers to vs all; admonishing, That we should dresse vs fairely for our end. Thus may we gather Honey from the Weed, And make a Morall of the Diuell himselfe. Enter Erpingham.

Good morrow old Sir Thomas Erpingham: A good soft Pillow for that good white Head, Were better then a churlish turfe of France

Erping. Not so my Liege, this Lodging likes me better, Since I may say, now lye I like a King

King. 'Tis good for men to loue their present paines, Vpon example, so the Spirit is eased: And when the Mind is quickned, out of doubt The Organs, though defunct and dead before, Breake vp their drowsie Graue, and newly moue With casted slough, and fresh legeritie. Lend me thy Cloake Sir Thomas: Brothers both, Commend me to the Princes in our Campe; Doe my good morrow to them, and anon Desire them all to my Pauillion

Gloster. We shall, my Liege

Erping. Shall I attend your Grace? King. No, my good Knight: Goe with my Brothers to my Lords of England: I and my Bosome must debate a while, And then I would no other company

Erping. The Lord in Heauen blesse thee, Noble Harry.

Exeunt.

King. God a mercy old Heart, thou speak'st chearefully. Enter Pistoll

Pist. Che vous la? King. A friend

Pist. Discusse vnto me, art thou Officer, or art thou base, common, and popular? King. I am a Gentleman of a Company

Pist. Trayl'st thou the puissant Pyke? King. Euen so: what are you? Pist. As good a Gentleman as the Emperor

King. Then you are a better then the King

Pist. The King's a Bawcock, and a Heart of Gold, a Lad of Life, an Impe of Fame, of Parents good, of Fist most valiant: I kisse his durtie shooe, and from heartstring I loue the louely Bully. What is thy Name? King. Harry le Roy

Pist. Le Roy? a Cornish Name: art thou of Cornish Crew? King. No, I am a Welchman

Pist. Know'st thou Fluellen? King. Yes

Pist. Tell him Ile knock his Leeke about his Pate vpon S. Dauies day

King. Doe not you weare your Dagger in your Cappe that day, least he knock that about yours

Pist. Art thou his friend? King. And his Kinsman too

Pist. The Figo for thee then

King. I thanke you: God be with you

Pist. My name is Pistol call'd. Enter.

King. It sorts well with your fiercenesse.

Manet King.

Enter Fluellen and Gower.

Gower. Captaine Fluellen

Flu. 'So, in the Name of Iesu Christ, speake fewer: it is the greatest admiration in the vniuersall World, when the true and aunchient Prerogatifes and Lawes of the Warres is not kept: if you would take the paines but to examine the Warres of Pompey the Great, you shall finde, I warrant you, that there is no tiddle tadle nor pibble bable in Pompeyes Campe: I warrant you, you shall finde the Ceremonies of the Warres, and the Cares of it, and the Formes of it, and the Sobrietie of it, and the Modestie of it, to be otherwise

Gower. Why the Enemie is lowd, you heare him all Night

Flu. If the Enemie is an Asse and a Foole, and a prating Coxcombe; is it meet, thinke you, that wee should also, looke you, be an Asse and a Foole, and a prating Coxcombe, in your owne conscience now? Gow. I will speake lower

Flu. I pray you, and beseech you, that you will. Enter.

King. Though it appeare a little out of fashion, There is much care and valour in this Welchman. Enter three Souldiers, Iohn Bates, Alexander Court, and Michael Williams.

Court. Brother Iohn Bates, is not that the Morning which breakes yonder? Bates. I thinke it be: but wee haue no great cause to desire the approach of day

Williams. Wee see yonder the beginning of the day, but I thinke wee shall neuer see the end of it. Who goes there? King. A Friend

Williams. Vnder what Captaine serue you? King. Vnder Sir Iohn Erpingham

Williams. A good old Commander, and a most kinde Gentleman: I pray you, what thinkes he of our estate? King. Euen as men wrackt vpon a Sand, that looke to be washt off the next Tyde

Bates. He hath not told his thought to the King? King. No: nor it is not meet he should: for though I speake it to you, I thinke the King is but a man, as I am: the Violet smells to him, as it doth to me; the Element shewes to him, as it doth to me; all his Sences haue but humane Conditions: his Ceremonies layd by, in his Nakednesse he appeares but a man; and though his affections are higher mounted then ours, yet when they stoupe, they stoupe with the like wing: therefore, when he sees reason of feares, as we doe; his feares, out of doubt, be of the same rellish as ours are: yet in reason, no man should possesse him with any appearance of feare; least hee, by shewing it, should dis-hearten his Army

Bates. He may shew what outward courage he will: but I beleeue, as cold a Night as 'tis, hee could wish himselfe in Thames vp to the Neck; and so I would he were, and I by him, at all aduentures, so we were quit here

King. By my troth, I will speake my conscience of the King: I thinke hee would not wish himselfe any where, but where hee is

Bates. Then I would he were here alone; so should he be sure to be ransomed, and a many poore mens liues saued

King. I dare say, you loue him not so ill, to wish him here alone: howsoeuer you speake this to feele other mens minds, me thinks I could not dye any where so contented, as in the Kings company; his Cause being iust, and his Quarrell honorable

Williams. That's more then we know

Bates. I, or more then wee should seeke after; for wee know enough, if wee know wee are the Kings Subiects: if his Cause be wrong, our obedience to the King wipes the Cryme of it out of vs

Williams. But if the Cause be not good, the King himselfe hath a heauie Reckoning to make, when all those Legges, and Armes, and Heads, chopt off in a Battaile, shall ioyne together at the latter day, and cry all, Wee dyed at such a place, some swearing, some crying for a Surgean; some vpon their Wiues, left poore behind them; some vpon the Debts they owe, some vpon their Children rawly left: I am afear'd, there are few dye well, that dye in a Battaile: for how can they charitably dispose of any thing, when Blood is their argument? Now, if these men doe not dye well, it will be a black matter for the King, that led them to it; who to disobey, were against all proportion of subiection

King. So, if a Sonne that is by his Father sent about Merchandize, doe sinfully miscarry vpon the Sea; the imputation of his wickednesse, by your rule, should be imposed vpon his Father that sent him: or if a Seruant, vnder his Masters command, transporting a summe of Money, be assayled by Robbers, and dye in many irreconcil'd Iniquities; you may call the businesse of the Master the author of the Seruants damnation: but this is not so: The King is not bound to answer the particular endings of his Souldiers, the Father of his Sonne, nor the Master of his Seruant; for they purpose not their death, when they purpose their seruices. Besides, there is no King, be his Cause neuer so spotlesse, if it come to the arbitrement of Swords, can trye it out with all vnspotted Souldiers: some (peraduenture) haue on them the guilt of premeditated and contriued Murther; some, of beguiling Virgins with the broken Seales of Periurie; some, making the Warres their Bulwarke, that haue before gored the gentle Bosome of Peace with Pillage and Robberie. Now, if these men haue defeated the Law, and outrunne Natiue punishment; though they can out-strip men, they haue no wings to flye from God. Warre is his Beadle, Warre is his Vengeance: so that here men are punisht, for before breach of the Kings Lawes, in now the Kings Quarrell: where they feared the death, they haue borne life away; and where they would bee safe, they perish. Then if they dye vnprouided, no more is the King guiltie of their damnation, then hee was before guiltie of those Impieties, for the which they are now visited. Euery Subiects Dutie is the Kings, but euery Subiects Soule is his owne. Therefore should euery Souldier in the Warres doe as euery sicke man in his Bed, wash euery Moth out of his Conscience: and dying so, Death is to him aduantage; or not dying, the time was blessedly lost, wherein such preparation was gayned: and in him that escapes, it were not sinne to thinke, that making God so free an offer, he let him outliue that day, to see his Greatnesse, and to teach others how they should prepare

Will. 'Tis certaine, euery man that dyes ill, the ill vpon his owne head, the King is not to answer it

Bates. I doe not desire hee should answer for me, and yet I determine to fight lustily for him

King. I my selfe heard the King say he would not be ransom'd

Will. I, hee said so, to make vs fight chearefully: but when our throats are cut, hee may be ransom'd, and wee ne're the wiser

King. If I liue to see it, I will neuer trust his word after

Will. You pay him then: that's a perillous shot out of an Elder Gunne, that a poore and a priuate displeasure can doe against a Monarch: you may as well goe about to turne the Sunne to yce, with fanning in his face with a Peacocks feather: You'le neuer trust his word after; come, 'tis a foolish saying

King. Your reproofe is something too round, I should be angry with you, if the time were conuenient

Will. Let it bee a Quarrell betweene vs, if you liue

King. I embrace it

Will. How shall I know thee againe? King. Giue me any Gage of thine, and I will weare it in my Bonnet: Then if euer thou dar'st acknowledge it, I will make it my Quarrell

Will. Heere's my Gloue: Giue mee another of thine

King. There

Will. This will I also weare in my Cap: if euer thou come to me, and say, after to morrow, This is my Gloue, by this Hand I will take thee a box on the eare

King. If euer I liue to see it, I will challenge it

Will. Thou dar'st as well be hang'd

King. Well, I will doe it, though I take thee in the Kings companie

Will. Keepe thy word: fare thee well

Bates. Be friends you English fooles, be friends, wee haue French Quarrels enow, if you could tell how to reckon.

Exit Souldiers.

King. Indeede the French may lay twentie French Crownes to one, they will beat vs, for they beare them on their shoulders: but it is no English Treason to cut French Crownes, and to morrow the King himselfe will be a Clipper. Vpon the King, let vs our Liues, our Soules, Our Debts, our carefull Wiues, Our Children, and our Sinnes, lay on the King: We must beare all. O hard Condition, Twin-borne with Greatnesse, Subiect to the breath of euery foole, whose sence No more can feele, but his owne wringing. What infinite hearts-ease must Kings neglect, That priuate men enioy? And what haue Kings, that Priuates haue not too, Saue Ceremonie, saue generall Ceremonie? And what art thou, thou Idoll Ceremonie? What kind of God art thou? that suffer'st more Of mortall griefes, then doe thy worshippers. What are thy Rents? what are thy Commings in? O Ceremonie, shew me but thy worth. What? is thy Soule of Odoration? Art thou ought else but Place, Degree, and Forme, Creating awe and feare in other men? Wherein thou art lesse happy, being fear'd, Then they in fearing. What drink'st thou oft, in stead of Homage sweet, But poyson'd flatterie? O, be sick, great Greatnesse, And bid thy Ceremonie giue thee cure. Thinks thou the fierie Feuer will goe out With Titles blowne from Adulation? Will it giue place to flexure and low bending? Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggers knee, Command the health of it? No, thou prowd Dreame, That play'st so subtilly with a Kings Repose. I am a King that find thee: and I know, 'Tis not the Balme, the Scepter, and the Ball, The Sword, the Mase, the Crowne Imperiall, The enter-tissued Robe of Gold and Pearle, The farsed Title running 'fore the King, The Throne he sits on: nor the Tyde of Pompe, That beates vpon the high shore of this World: No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous Ceremonie; Not all these, lay'd in Bed Maiesticall, Can sleepe so soundly, as the wretched Slaue: Who with a body fill'd, and vacant mind, Gets him to rest, cram'd with distressefull bread, Neuer sees horride Night, the Child of Hell: But like a Lacquey, from the Rise to Set, Sweates in the eye of Phebus; and all Night Sleepes in Elizium: next day after dawne, Doth rise and helpe Hiperio to his Horse, And followes so the euer-running yeere With profitable labour to his Graue: And but for Ceremonie, such a Wretch, Winding vp Dayes with toyle, and Nights with sleepe, Had the fore-hand and vantage of a King. The Slaue, a Member of the Countreyes peace, Enioyes it; but in grosse braine little wots, What watch the King keepes, to maintaine the peace; Whose howres, the Pesant best aduantages. Enter Erpingham.

Erp. My Lord, your Nobles iealous of your absence, Seeke through your Campe to find you

King. Good old Knight, collect them all together At my Tent: Ile be before thee

Erp. I shall doo't, my Lord. Enter.

King. O God of Battailes, steele my Souldiers hearts, Possesse them not with feare: Take from them now The sence of reckning of th' opposed numbers: Pluck their hearts from them. Not to day, O Lord, O not to day, thinke not vpon the fault My Father made, in compassing the Crowne. I Richards body haue interred new, And on it haue bestowed more contrite teares, Then from it issued forced drops of blood. Fiue hundred poore I haue in yeerely pay, Who twice a day their wither'd hands hold vp Toward Heauen, to pardon blood: And I haue built two Chauntries, Where the sad and solemne Priests sing still For Richards Soule. More will I doe: Though all that I can doe, is nothing worth; Since that my Penitence comes after all, Imploring pardon. Enter Gloucester.

Glouc. My Liege

King. My Brother Gloucesters voyce? I: I know thy errand, I will goe with thee: The day, my friend, and all things stay for me.

Exeunt.

Enter the Dolphin, Orleance, Ramburs, and Beaumont.

Orleance. The Sunne doth gild our Armour vp, my Lords

Dolph. Monte Cheual: My Horse, Verlot Lacquay: Ha

Orleance. Oh braue Spirit

Dolph. Via les ewes & terre

Orleance. Rien puis le air & feu

Dolph. Cein, Cousin Orleance. Enter Constable.

Now my Lord Constable? Const. Hearke how our Steedes, for present Seruice neigh

Dolph. Mount them, and make incision in their Hides, That their hot blood may spin in English eyes, And doubt them with superfluous courage: ha

Ram. What, wil you haue them weep our Horses blood? How shall we then behold their naturall teares? Enter Messenger.

Messeng. The English are embattail'd, you French Peeres