Chapter XLVI: Part 46

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[aint]. 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[n] 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

Const. To Horse you gallant Princes, straight to Horse. Doe but behold yond poore and starued Band, And your faire shew shall suck away their Soules, Leauing them but the shales and huskes of men. There is not worke enough for all our hands, Scarce blood enough in all their sickly Veines, To giue each naked Curtleax a stayne, That our French Gallants shall to day draw out, And sheath for lack of sport. Let vs but blow on them, The vapour of our Valour will o're-turne them. 'Tis positiue against all exceptions, Lords, That our superfluous Lacquies, and our Pesants, Who in vnnecessarie action swarme About our Squares of Battaile, were enow To purge this field of such a hilding Foe; Though we vpon this Mountaines Basis by, Tooke stand for idle speculation: But that our Honours must not. What's to say? A very little little let vs doe, And all is done: then let the Trumpets sound The Tucket Sonuance, and the Note to mount: For our approach shall so much dare the field, That England shall couch downe in feare, and yeeld. Enter Graundpree.

Grandpree. Why do you stay so long, my Lords of France? Yond Iland Carrions, desperate of their bones, Ill-fauoredly become the Morning field: Their ragged Curtaines poorely are let loose, And our Ayre shakes them passing scornefully. Bigge Mars seemes banqu'rout in their begger'd Hoast, And faintly through a rustie Beuer peepes. The Horsemen sit like fixed Candlesticks, With Torch-staues in their hand: and their poore Iades Lob downe their heads, dropping the hides and hips: The gumme downe roping from their pale-dead eyes, And in their pale dull mouthes the Iymold Bitt Lyes foule with chaw'd-grasse, still and motionlesse. And their executors, the knauish Crowes, Flye o're them all, impatient for their howre. Description cannot sute it selfe in words, To demonstrate the Life of such a Battaile, In life so liuelesse, as it shewes it selfe

Const. They haue said their prayers,
And they stay for death

Dolph. Shall we goe send them Dinners, and fresh Sutes, And giue their fasting Horses Prouender, And after fight with them? Const. I stay but for my Guard: on To the field, I will the Banner from a Trumpet take, And vse it for my haste. Come, come away, The Sunne is high, and we out-weare the day.

Exeunt.

Enter Gloucester, Bedford, Exeter, Erpingham with all his Hoast: Salisbury, and Westmerland.

Glouc. Where is the King?
Bedf. The King himselfe is rode to view their Battaile

West. Of fighting men they haue full threescore thousand

Exe. There's fiue to one, besides they all are fresh

Salisb. Gods Arme strike with vs, 'tis a fearefull oddes. God buy' you Princes all; Ile to my Charge: If we no more meet, till we meet in Heauen; Then ioyfully, my Noble Lord of Bedford, My deare Lord Gloucester, and my good Lord Exeter, And my kind Kinsman, Warriors all, adieu

Bedf. Farwell good Salisbury, & good luck go with thee: And yet I doe thee wrong, to mind thee of it, For thou art fram'd of the firme truth of valour

Exe. Farwell kind Lord: fight valiantly to day

Bedf. He is as full of Valour as of Kindnesse, Princely in both. Enter the King.

West. O that we now had here But one ten thousand of those men in England, That doe no worke to day

King. What's he that wishes so? My Cousin Westmerland. No, my faire Cousin: If we are markt to dye, we are enow To doe our Countrey losse: and if to liue, The fewer men, the greater share of honour. Gods will, I pray thee wish not one man more. By Ioue, I am not couetous for Gold, Nor care I who doth feed vpon my cost: It yernes me not, if men my Garments weare; Such outward things dwell not in my desires. But if it be a sinne to couet Honor, I am the most offending Soule aliue. No 'faith, my Couze, wish not a man from England: Gods peace, I would not loose so great an Honor, As one man more me thinkes would share from me, For the best hope I haue. O, doe not wish one more: Rather proclaime it (Westmerland) through my Hoast, That he which hath no stomack to this fight, Let him depart, his Pasport shall be made, And Crownes for Conuoy put into his Purse: We would not dye in that mans companie, That feares his fellowship, to dye with vs. This day is call'd the Feast of Crispian: He that out-liues this day, and comes safe home, Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named, And rowse him at the Name of Crispian. He that shall see this day, and liue old age, Will yeerely on the Vigil feast his neighbours, And say, to morrow is Saint Crispian. Then will he strip his sleeue, and shew his skarres: Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot: But hee'le remember, with aduantages, 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 remembred. This story shall the good man teach his sonne: And Crispine Crispian shall ne're goe by, From this day to the ending of the World, But we in it shall be remembred; 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're so vile, This day shall gentle his Condition. And Gentlemen in England, now a bed, Shall thinke themselues accurst they were not here; And hold their Manhoods cheape, whiles any speakes, That fought with vs vpon Saint Crispines day. Enter Salisbury.

Sal. My Soueraign Lord, bestow your selfe with speed: The French are brauely in their battailes set, And will with all expedience charge on vs

King. All things are ready, if our minds be so

West. Perish the man, whose mind is backward now

King. Thou do'st not wish more helpe from England,
Couze?
West. Gods will, my Liege, would you and I alone,
Without more helpe, could fight this Royall battaile

King. Why now thou hast vnwisht fiue thousand men: Which likes me better, then to wish vs one. You know your places: God be with you all.

Tucket. Enter Montioy.

Mont. Once more I come to know of thee King Harry, If for thy Ransome thou wilt now compound, Before thy most assured Ouerthrow: For certainly, thou art so neere the Gulfe, Thou needs must be englutted. Besides, in mercy The Constable desires thee, thou wilt mind Thy followers of Repentance; that their Soules May make a peacefull and a sweet retyre From off these fields: where (wretches) their poore bodies Must lye and fester

King. Who hath sent thee now?
Mont. The Constable of France

King. I pray thee beare my former Answer back: Bid them atchieue me, and then sell my bones. Good God, why should they mock poore fellowes thus? The man that once did sell the Lyons skin While the beast liu'd, was kill'd with hunting him. A many of our bodyes shall no doubt Find Natiue Graues: vpon the which, I trust Shall witnesse liue in Brasse of this dayes worke. And those that leaue their valiant bones in France, Dying like men, though buryed in your Dunghills, They shall be fam'd: for there the Sun shall greet them, And draw their honors reeking vp to Heauen, Leauing their earthly parts to choake your Clyme, The smell whereof shall breed a Plague in France. Marke then abounding valour in our English: That being dead, like to the bullets crasing, Breake out into a second course of mischiefe, Killing in relapse of Mortalitie. Let me speake prowdly: Tell the Constable, We are but Warriors for the working day: Our Gaynesse and our Gilt are all besmyrcht With raynie Marching in the painefull field. There's not a piece of feather in our Hoast: Good argument (I hope) we will not flye: And time hath worne vs into slouenrie. But by the Masse, our hearts are in the trim: And my poore Souldiers tell me, yet ere Night, They'le be in fresher Robes, or they will pluck The gay new Coats o're the French Souldiers heads, And turne them out of seruice. If they doe this, As if God please, they shall; my Ransome then Will soone be leuyed. Herauld, saue thou thy labour: Come thou no more for Ransome, gentle Herauld, They shall haue none, I sweare, but these my ioynts: Which if they haue, as I will leaue vm them, Shall yeeld them little, tell the Constable

Mont. I shall, King Harry. And so fare thee well: Thou neuer shalt heare Herauld any more. Enter.

King. I feare thou wilt once more come againe for a Ransome. Enter Yorke.

Yorke. My Lord, most humbly on my knee I begge
The leading of the Vaward

King. Take it, braue Yorke. Now Souldiers march away, And how thou pleasest God, dispose the day.

Exeunt.

Alarum. Excursions. Enter Pistoll, French Souldier, Boy.

Pist. Yeeld Curre

French. Ie pense que vous estes le Gentilhome de bon qualitee

Pist. Qualtitie calmie custure me. Art thou a Gentleman?
What is thy Name? discusse

French. O Seigneur Dieu

Pist. O Signieur Dewe should be a Gentleman: perpend my words O Signieur Dewe, and marke: O Signieur Dewe, thou dyest on point of Fox, except O Signieur thou doe giue to me egregious Ransome

French. O prennes miserecordie aye pitez de moy

Pist. Moy shall not serue, I will haue fortie Moyes: for I will fetch thy rymme out at thy Throat, in droppes of Crimson blood

French. Est il impossible d' eschapper le force de ton bras

Pist. Brasse, Curre? thou damned and luxurious Mountaine
Goat, offer'st me Brasse?
French. O perdonne moy

Pist. Say'st thou me so? is that a Tonne of Moyes? Come hither boy, aske me this slaue in French what is his Name

Boy. Escoute comment estes vous appelle?
French. Mounsieur le Fer

Boy. He sayes his Name is M. Fer

Pist. M. Fer: Ile fer him, and firke him, and ferret him:
discusse the same in French vnto him

Boy. I doe not know the French for fer, and ferret, and
firke

Pist. Bid him prepare, for I will cut his throat

French. Que dit il Mounsieur?
Boy. Il me commande a vous dire que vous faite vous
prest, car ce soldat icy est disposee tout asture de couppes vostre
gorge

Pist. Owy, cuppele gorge permafoy pesant, vnlesse thou giue me Crownes, braue Crownes; or mangled shalt thou be by this my Sword

French. O Ie vous supplie pour l' amour de Dieu: ma pardonner, Ie suis le Gentilhome de bon maison, garde ma vie, & Ie vous donneray deux cent escus

Pist. What are his words?
Boy. He prayes you to saue his life, he is a Gentleman
of a good house, and for his ransom he will giue you two
hundred Crownes

Pist. Tell him my fury shall abate, and I the Crownes
will take

Fren. Petit Monsieur que dit il?
Boy. Encore qu'il et contra son Iurement, de pardonner aucune
prisonner: neantmons pour les escues que vous layt a promets,
il est content a vous donnes le liberte le franchisement

Fre. Sur mes genoux se vous donnes milles remercious, et Ie me estime heurex que Ie intombe, entre les main d' vn Cheualier Ie pense le plus braue valiant et tres distime signieur d' Angleterre

Pist. Expound vnto me boy

Boy. He giues you vpon his knees a thousand thanks, and he esteemes himselfe happy, that he hath falne into the hands of one (as he thinkes) the most braue, valorous and thrice-worthy signeur of England

Pist. As I sucke blood, I will some mercy shew. Follow
mee

Boy. Saaue vous le grand Capitaine? I did neuer know so full a voyce issue from so emptie a heart: but the saying is true, The empty vessel makes the greatest sound, Bardolfe and Nym had tenne times more valour, then this roaring diuell i'th olde play, that euerie one may payre his nayles with a woodden dagger, and they are both hang'd, and so would this be, if hee durst steale any thing aduenturously. I must stay with the Lackies with the luggage of our camp, the French might haue a good pray of vs, if he knew of it, for there is none to guard it but boyes. Enter.

Enter Constable, Orleance, Burbon, Dolphin, and Rambures.

Con. O Diable

Orl. O signeur le iour et perdia, toute et perdie

Dol. Mor Dieu ma vie, all is confounded all, Reproach, and euerlasting shame Sits mocking in our Plumes.

A short Alarum.

O meschante Fortune, do not runne away

Con. Why all our rankes are broke

Dol. O perdurable shame, let's stab our selues: Be these the wretches that we plaid at dice for? Orl. Is this the King we sent too, for his ransome? Bur. Shame, and eternall shame, nothing but shame, Let vs dye in once more backe againe, And he that will not follow Burbon now, Let him go hence, and with his cap in hand Like a base Pander hold the Chamber doore, Whilst a base slaue, no gentler then my dogge, His fairest daughter is contaminated

Con. Disorder that hath spoyl'd vs, friend vs now,
Let vs on heapes go offer vp our liues

Orl. We are enow yet liuing in the Field, To smother vp the English in our throngs, If any order might be thought vpon

Bur. The diuell take Order now, Ile to the throng; Let life be short, else shame will be too long. Enter.

Alarum. Enter the King and his trayne, with Prisoners.

King. Well haue we done, thrice-valiant Countrimen,
But all's not done, yet keepe the French the field

Exe. The D[uke]. of York commends him to your Maiesty
King. Liues he good Vnckle: thrice within this houre
I saw him downe; thrice vp againe, and fighting,
From Helmet to the spurre, all blood he was

Exe. In which array (braue Soldier) doth he lye, Larding the plaine: and by his bloody side, (Yoake-fellow to his honour-owing-wounds) The Noble Earle of Suffolke also lyes. Suffolke first dyed, and Yorke all hagled ouer Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteeped, And takes him by the Beard, kisses the gashes That bloodily did yawne vpon his face. He cryes aloud; Tarry my Cosin Suffolke, My soule shall thine keepe company to heauen: Tarry (sweet soule) for mine, then flye a-brest: As in this glorious and well-foughten field We kept together in our Chiualrie. Vpon these words I came, and cheer'd him vp, He smil'd me in the face, raught me his hand, And with a feeble gripe, sayes: Deere my Lord, Commend my seruice to my Soueraigne, So did he turne, and ouer Suffolkes necke He threw his wounded arme, and kist his lippes, And so espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd A Testament of Noble-ending-loue: The prettie and sweet manner of it forc'd Those waters from me, which I would haue stop'd, But I had not so much of man in mee, And all my mother came into mine eyes, And gaue me vp to teares

King. I blame you not, For hearing this, I must perforce compound With mixtfull eyes, or they will issue to.

Alarum

But hearke, what new alarum is this same? The French haue re-enforc'd their scatter'd men: Then euery souldiour kill his Prisoners, Giue the word through.

Exit

Actus Quartus.

Enter Fluellen and Gower.

Flu. Kill the poyes and the luggage, 'Tis expressely against the Law of Armes, tis as arrant a peece of knauery marke you now, as can bee offert in your Conscience now, is it not? Gow. Tis certaine, there's not a boy left aliue, and the Cowardly Rascalls that ranne from the battaile ha' done this slaughter: besides they haue burned and carried away all that was in the Kings Tent, wherefore the King most worthily hath caus'd euery soldiour to cut his prisoners throat. O 'tis a gallant King

Flu. I, hee was porne at Monmouth Captaine Gower:
What call you the Townes name where Alexander the
pig was borne?
Gow. Alexander the Great

Flu. Why I pray you, is not pig, great? The pig, or the great, or the mighty, or the huge, or the magnanimous, are all one reckonings, saue the phrase is a litle variations

Gower. I thinke Alexander the Great was borne in Macedon, his Father was called Phillip of Macedon, as I take it

Flu. I thinke it is in Macedon where Alexander is porne: I tell you Captaine, if you looke in the Maps of the Orld, I warrant you sall finde in the comparisons betweene Macedon & Monmouth, that the situations looke you, is both alike. There is a Riuer in Macedon, & there is also moreouer a Riuer at Monmouth, it is call'd Wye at Monmouth: but it is out of my praines, what is the name of the other Riuer: but 'tis all one, tis alike as my fingers is to my fingers, and there is Salmons in both. If you marke Alexanders life well, Harry of Monmouthes life is come after it indifferent well, for there is figures in all things. Alexander God knowes, and you know, in his rages, and his furies, and his wraths, and his chollers, and his moodes, and his displeasures, and his indignations, and also being a little intoxicates in his praines, did in his Ales and his angers (looke you) kill his best friend Clytus

Gow. Our King is not like him in that, he neuer kill'd
any of his friends

Flu. It is not well done (marke you now) to take the tales out of my mouth, ere it is made and finished. I speak but in the figures, and comparisons of it: as Alexander kild his friend Clytus, being in his Ales and his Cuppes; so also Harry Monmouth being in his right wittes, and his good iudgements, turn'd away the fat Knight with the great belly doublet: he was full of iests, and gypes, and knaueries, and mockes, I haue forgot his name

Gow. Sir Iohn Falstaffe

Flu. That is he: Ile tell you, there is good men porne
at Monmouth

Gow. Heere comes his Maiesty.

Alarum. Enter King Harry and Burbon with prisoners. Flourish.