nder our beginnings; we doubt not now But every rub is smoothed on our way. Then, forth, dear countrymen; let us deliver Our puissance into the hand of God, Putting it straight in expedition. Cheerly to sea; the signs of war advance; No king of England, if not king of France! Flourish. Exeunt SCENE III. Eastcheap. Before the Boar's Head tavern Enter PISTOL, HOSTESS, NYM, BARDOLPH, and Boy HOSTESS. Prithee, honey-sweet husband, let me bring thee to Staines. PISTOL. No; for my manly heart doth earn. Bardolph, be blithe; Nym, rouse thy vaunting veins; Boy, bristle thy courage up. For Falstaff he is dead, And we must earn therefore. BARDOLPH. Would I were with him, wheresome'er he is, either in heaven or in hell! HOSTESS. Nay, sure, he's not in hell: he's in Arthur's bosom, if ever man went to Arthur's bosom. 'A made a finer end, and went away an it had been any christom child; 'a parted ev'n just between twelve and one, ev'n at the turning o' th' tide; for after I saw him fumble with the sheets, and play with flowers, and smile upon his fingers' end, I knew there was but one way; for his nose was as sharp as a pen, and 'a babbl'd of green fields. 'How now, Sir John!' quoth I 'What, man, be o' good cheer.' So 'a cried out 'God, God, God!' three or four times. Now I, to comfort him, bid him 'a should not think of God; I hop'd there was no need to trouble himself with any such thoughts yet. So 'a bade me lay more clothes on his feet; I put my hand into the bed and felt them, and they were as cold as any stone; then I felt to his knees, and so upward and upward, and all was as cold as any stone. NYM. They say he cried out of sack. HOSTESS. Ay, that 'a did. BARDOLPH. And of women. HOSTESS. Nay, that 'a did not. BOY. Yes, that 'a did, and said they were devils incarnate. HOSTESS. 'A could never abide carnation; 'twas a colour he never liked. BOY. 'A said once the devil would have him about women. HOSTESS. 'A did in some sort, indeed, handle women; but then he was rheumatic, and talk'd of the Whore of Babylon. BOY. Do you not remember 'a saw a flea stick upon Bardolph's nose, and 'a said it was a black soul burning in hell? BARDOLPH. Well, the fuel is gone that maintain'd that fire: that's all the riches I got in his service. NYM. Shall we shog? The King will be gone from Southampton. PISTOL. Come, let's away. My love, give me thy lips. Look to my chattles and my moveables; Let senses rule. The word is 'Pitch and Pay.' Trust none; For oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer-cakes, And Holdfast is the only dog, my duck. Therefore, Caveto be thy counsellor. Go, clear thy crystals. Yoke-fellows in arms, Let us to France, like horse-leeches, my boys, To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck. BOY. And that's but unwholesome food, they say. PISTOL. Touch her soft mouth and march. BARDOLPH. Farewell, hostess. [Kissing her] NYM. I cannot kiss, that is the humour of it; but adieu. PISTOL. Let housewifery appear; keep close, I thee command. HOSTESS. Farewell; adieu. Exeunt SCENE IV. France. The KING'S palace Flourish. Enter the FRENCH KING, the DAUPHIN, the DUKES OF BERRI and BRITAINE, the CONSTABLE, and others FRENCH KING. Thus comes the English with full power upon us; And more than carefully it us concerns To answer royally in our defences. Therefore the Dukes of Berri and of Britaine, Of Brabant and of Orleans, shall make forth, And you, Prince Dauphin, with all swift dispatch, To line and new repair our towns of war With men of courage and with means defendant; For England his approaches makes as fierce As waters to the sucking of a gulf. It fits us, then, to be as provident As fear may teach us, out of late examples Left by the fatal and neglected English Upon our fields. DAUPHIN. My most redoubted father, It is most meet we arm us 'gainst the foe; For peace itself should not so dull a kingdom, Though war nor no known quarrel were in question, But that defences, musters, preparations, Should be maintain'd, assembled, and collected, As were a war in expectation. Therefore, I say, 'tis meet we all go forth To view the sick and feeble parts of France; And let us do it with no show of fear- No, with no more than if we heard that England Were busied with a Whitsun morris-dance; For, my good liege, she is so idly king'd, Her sceptre so fantastically borne By a vain, giddy, shallow, humorous youth, That fear attends her not. CONSTABLE. O peace, Prince Dauphin! You are too much mistaken in this king. Question your Grace the late ambassadors With what great state he heard their embassy, How well supplied with noble counsellors, How modest in exception, and withal How terrible in constant resolution, And you shall find his vanities forespent Were but the outside of the Roman Brutus, Covering discretion with a coat of folly; As gardeners do with ordure hide those roots That shall first spring and be most delicate. DAUPHIN. Well, 'tis not so, my Lord High Constable; But though we think it so, it is no matter. In cases of defence 'tis best to weigh The enemy more mighty than he seems; So the proportions of defence are fill'd; Which of a weak and niggardly projection Doth like a miser spoil his coat with scanting A little cloth. FRENCH KING. Think we King Harry strong; And, Princes, look you strongly arm to meet him. The kindred of him hath been flesh'd upon us; And he is bred out of that bloody strain That haunted us in our familiar paths. Witness our too much memorable shame When Cressy battle fatally was struck, And all our princes capdv'd by the hand Of that black name, Edward, Black Prince of Wales; Whiles that his mountain sire- on mountain standing, Up in the air, crown'd with the golden sun- Saw his heroical seed, and smil'd to see him, Mangle the work of nature, and deface The patterns that by God and by French fathers Had twenty years been made. This is a stern Of that victorious stock; and let us fear The native mightiness and fate of him. Enter a MESSENGER MESSENGER. Ambassadors from Harry King of England Do crave admittance to your Majesty. FRENCH KING. We'll give them present audience. Go and bring them. Exeunt MESSENGER and certain LORDS You see this chase is hotly followed, friends. DAUPHIN. Turn head and stop pursuit; for coward dogs Most spend their mouths when what they seem to threaten Runs far before them. Good my sovereign, Take up the English short, and let them know Of what a monarchy you are the head. Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin As self-neglecting. Re-enter LORDS, with EXETER and train FRENCH KING. From our brother of England? EXETER. From him, and thus he greets your Majesty: He wills you, in the name of God Almighty, That you divest yourself, and lay apart The borrowed glories that by gift of heaven, By law of nature and of nations, 'longs To him and to his heirs- namely, the crown, And all wide-stretched honours that pertain, By custom and the ordinance of times, Unto the crown of France. That you may know 'Tis no sinister nor no awkward claim, Pick'd from the worm-holes of long-vanish'd days, Nor from the dust of old oblivion rak'd, He sends you this most memorable line, [Gives a paper] In every branch truly demonstrative; Willing you overlook this pedigree. And when you find him evenly deriv'd From his most fam'd of famous ancestors, Edward the Third, he bids you then resign Your crown and kingdom, indirectly held From him, the native and true challenger. FRENCH KING. Or else what follows? EXETER. Bloody constraint; for if you hide the crown Even in your hearts, there will he rake for it. Therefore in fierce tempest is he coming, In thunder and in earthquake, like a Jove, That if requiring fail, he will compel; And bids you, in the bowels of the Lord, Deliver up the crown; and to take mercy On the poor souls for whom this hungry war Opens his vasty jaws; and on your head Turning the widows' tears, the orphans' cries, The dead men's blood, the privy maidens' groans, For husbands, fathers, and betrothed lovers, That shall be swallowed in this controversy. This is his claim, his threat'ning, and my message; Unless the Dauphin be in presence here, To whom expressly I bring greeting too. FRENCH KING. For us, we will consider of this further; To-morrow shall you bear our full intent Back to our brother of England. DAUPHIN. For the Dauphin: I stand here for him. What to him from England? EXETER. Scorn and defiance, slight regard, contempt, And anything that may not misbecome The mighty sender, doth he prize you at. Thus says my king: an if your father's Highness Do not, in grant of all demands at large, Sweeten the bitter mock you sent his Majesty, He'll call you to so hot an answer of it That caves and womby vaultages of France Shall chide your trespass and return your mock In second accent of his ordinance. DAUPHIN. Say, if my father render fair return, It is against my will; for I desire Nothing but odds with England. To that end, As matching to his youth and vanity, I did present him with the Paris balls. EXETER. He'll make your Paris Louvre shake for it, Were it the mistress court of mighty Europe; And be assur'd you'll find a difference, As we his subjects have in wonder found, Between the promise of his greener days And these he masters now. Now he weighs time Even to the utmost grain; that you shall read In your own losses, if he stay in France. FRENCH KING. To-morrow shall you know our mind at full. EXETER. Dispatch us with all speed, lest that our king Come here himself to question our delay; For he is footed in this land already. FRENCH KING. You shall be soon dispatch'd with fair conditions. A night is but small breath and little pause To answer matters of this consequence. Flourish. Exeunt ACT III. PROLOGUE. Flourish. Enter CHORUS CHORUS. Thus with imagin'd wing our swift scene flies, In motion of no less celerity Than that of thought. Suppose that you have seen The well-appointed King at Hampton pier Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet With silken streamers the young Phorbus fanning. Play with your fancies; and in them behold Upon the hempen tackle ship-boys climbing; Hear the shrill whistle which doth order give To sounds confus'd; behold the threaden sails, Borne with th' invisible and creeping wind, Draw the huge bottoms through the furrowed sea, Breasting the lofty surge. O, do but think You stand upon the rivage and behold A city on th' inconstant billows dancing; For so appears this fleet majestical, Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, follow! Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy And leave your England as dead midnight still, Guarded with grandsires, babies, and old women, Either past or not arriv'd to pith and puissance; For who is he whose chin is but enrich'd With one appearing hair that will not follow These cull'd and choice-drawn cavaliers to France? Work, work your thoughts, and therein see a siege; Behold the ordnance on their carriages, With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur. Suppose th' ambassador from the French comes back; Tells Harry that the King doth offer him Katherine his daughter, and with her to dowry Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms. The offer likes not; and the nimble gunner With linstock now the devilish cannon touches, [Alarum, and chambers go off] And down goes an before them. Still be kind, And eke out our performance with your mind. Exit SCENE I. France. Before Harfleur Alarum. Enter the KING, EXETER, BEDFORD, GLOUCESTER, and soldiers with scaling-ladders KING. Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall up with our English dead. In peace there's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility; But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger: Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage; Then lend the eye a terrible aspect; Let it pry through the portage of the head Like the brass cannon: let the brow o'erwhelm it As fearfully as doth a galled rock O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean. Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide; Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit To his full height. On, on, you noblest English, Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof- Fathers that like so many Alexanders Have in these parts from morn till even fought, And sheath'd their swords for lack of argument. Dishonour not your mothers; now attest That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you. Be copy now to men of grosser blood, And teach them how to war. And you, good yeomen, Whose limbs were made in England, show us here The mettle of your pasture; let us swear That you are worth your breeding- which I doubt not; For there is none of you so mean and base That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game's afoot: Follow your spirit; and upon this charge Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!' [Exeunt. Alarum, and chambers go off] SCENE II. Before Harfleur Enter NYM, BARDOLPH, PISTOL, and BOY BARDOLPH. On, on, on, on, on! to the breach, to the breach! NYM. Pray thee, Corporal, stay; the knocks are too hot, and for mine own part I have not a case of lives. The humour of it is too hot; that is the very plain-song of it. PISTOL. The plain-song is most just; for humours do abound: Knocks go and come; God's vassals drop and die; And sword and shield In bloody field Doth win immortal fame. BOY. Would I were in an alehouse in London! I wouid give all my fame for a pot of ale and safety. PISTOL. And I: If wishes would prevail with me, My purpose should not fail with me, But thither would I hie. BOY. As duly, but not as truly, As bird doth sing on bough. Enter FLUELLEN FLUELLEN. Up to the breach, you dogs! Avaunt, you cullions! [Driving them forward] PISTOL. Be merciful, great duke, to men of mould. Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage; Abate thy rage, great duke. Good bawcock, bate thy rage. Use lenity, sweet chuck. NYM. These be good humours. Your honour wins bad humours. Exeunt all but BOY BOY. As young as I am, I have observ'd these three swashers. I am boy to them all three; but all they three, though they would serve me, could not be man to me; for indeed three such antics do not amount to a man. For Bardolph, he is white-liver'd and red-fac'd; by the means whereof 'a faces it out, but fights not. For Pistol, he hath a killing tongue and a quiet sword; by the means whereof 'a breaks words and keeps whole weapons. For Nym, he hath heard that men of few words are the best men, and therefore he scorns to say his prayers lest 'a should be thought a coward; but his few bad words are match'd with as few good deeds; for 'a never broke any man's head but his own, and that was against a post when he was drunk. They will steal anything, and call it purchase. Bardolph stole a lute-case, bore it twelve leagues, and sold it for three halfpence. Nym and Bardolph are sworn brothers in filching, and in Calais they stole a fire-shovel; I knew by that piece of service the men would carry coals. They would have me as familiar with men's pockets as their gloves or their handkerchers; which makes much against my manhood, if I should take from another's pocket to put into mine; for it is plain pocketing up of wrongs. I must leave them and seek some better service; their villainy goes against my weak stomach, and therefore I must cast it up. Exit Re-enter FLUELLEN, GOWER following GOWER. Captain Fluellen, you must come presently to the mines; the Duke of Gloucester would speak with you. FLUELLEN. To the mines! Tell you the Duke it is not so good to come to the mines; for, look you, the mines is not according to the disciplines of the war; the concavities of it is not sufficient. For, look you, th' athversary- you may discuss unto the Duke, look you- is digt himself four yard under the countermines; by Cheshu, I think 'a will plow up all, if there is not better directions. GOWER. The Duke of Gloucester, to whom the order of the siege is given, is altogether directed by an Irishman- a very vallant gentleman, i' faith. FLUELLEN. It is Captain Macmorris, is it not? GOWER. I think it be. FLUELLEN. By Cheshu, he is an ass, as in the world: I will verify as much in his beard; he has no more directions in the true disciplines of the wars, look you, of the Roman disciplines, than is a puppy-dog. Enter MACMORRIS and CAPTAIN JAMY GOWER. Here 'a comes; and the Scots captain, Captain Jamy, with him. FLUELLEN. Captain Jamy is a marvellous falorous gentleman, that is certain, and of great expedition and knowledge in th' aunchient wars, upon my particular knowledge of his directions. By Cheshu, he will maintain his argument as well as any military man in the world, in the disciplines of the pristine wars of the Romans. JAMY. I say gud day, Captain Fluellen. FLUELLEN. God-den to your worship, good Captain James. GOWER. How now, Captain Macmorris! Have you quit the mines? Have the pioneers given o'er? MACMORRIS. By Chrish, la, tish ill done! The work ish give over, the trompet sound the retreat. By my hand, I swear, and my father's soul, the work ish ill done; it ish give over; I would have blowed up the town, so Chrish save me, la, in an hour. O, tish ill done, tish ill done; by my hand, tish ill done! FLUELLEN. Captain Macmorris, I beseech you now, will you voutsafe me, look you, a few disputations with you, as partly touching or concerning the disciplines of the war, the Roman wars, in the way of argument, look you, and friendly communication; partly to satisfy my opinion, and partly for the satisfaction, look you, of my mind, as touching the direction of the military discipline, that is the point. JAMY. It sall be vary gud, gud feith, gud captains bath; and I sall quit you with gud leve, as I may pick occasion; that sall I, marry. MACMORRIS. It is no time to discourse, so Chrish save me. The day is hot, and the weather, and the wars, and the King, and the Dukes; it is no time to discourse. The town is beseech'd, and the trumpet call us to the breach; and we talk and, be Chrish, do nothing. 'Tis shame for us all, so God sa' me, 'tis shame to stand still; it is shame, by my hand; and there is throats to be cut, and works to be done; and there ish nothing done, so Chrish sa' me, la. JAMY. By the mess, ere theise eyes of mine take themselves to slomber, ay'll de gud service, or I'll lig i' th' grund for it; ay, or go to death. And I'll pay't as valorously as I may, that sall I suerly do, that is the breff and the long. Marry, I wad full fain heard some question 'tween you tway. FLUELLEN. Captain Macmorris, I think, look you, under your correction, there is not many of your nation- MACMORRIS. Of my nation? What ish my nation? Ish a villain, and a bastard, and a knave, and a rascal. What ish my nation? Who talks of my nation? FLUELLEN. Look you, if you take the matter otherwise than is meant, Captain Macmorris, peradventure I shall think you do not use me with that affability as in discretion you ought to use me, look you; being as good a man as yourself, both in the disciplines of war and in the derivation of my birth, and in other particularities. MACMORRIS. I do not know you so good a man as myself; so Chrish save me, I will cut off your head. GOWER. Gentlemen both, you will mistake each other. JAMY. Ah! that's a foul fault. [A parley sounded] GOWER. The town sounds a parley. FLUELLEN. Captain Macmorris, when there is more better opportunity to be required, look you, I will be so bold as to tell you I know the disciplines of war; and there is an end. Exeunt SCENE III. Before the gates of Harfleur Enter the GOVERNOR and some citizens on the walls. Enter the KING and all his train before the gates KING HENRY. How yet resolves the Governor of the town? This is the latest parle we will admit; Therefore to our best mercy give yourselves Or, like to men proud of destruction, Defy us to our worst; for, as I am a soldier, A name that in my thoughts becomes me best, If I begin the batt'ry once again, I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur Till in her ashes she lie buried. The gates of mercy shall be all shut up, And the flesh'd soldier, rough and hard of heart, In liberty of bloody hand shall range With conscience wide as hell, mowing like grass Your fresh fair virgins and your flow'ring infants. What is it then to me if impious war, Array'd in flames, like to the prince of fiends, Do, with his smirch'd complexion, all fell feats Enlink'd to waste and desolation? What is't to me when you yourselves are cause, If your pure maidens fall into the hand Of hot and forcing violation? What rein can hold licentious wickednes When down the hill he holds his fierce career? We may as bootless spend our vain command Upon th' enraged soldiers in their spoil, As send precepts to the Leviathan To come ashore. Therefore, you men of Harfleur, Take pity of your town and of your people Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command; Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace O'erblows the filthy and contagious clouds Of heady murder, spoil, and villainy. If not- why, in a moment look to see The blind and bloody with foul hand Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters; Your fathers taken by the silver beards, And their most reverend heads dash'd to the walls; Your naked infants spitted upon pikes, Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confus'd Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry At Herod's bloody-hunting slaughtermen. What say you? Will you yield, and this avoid? Or, guilty in defence, be thus destroy'd? GOVERNOR. Our expectation hath this day an end: The Dauphin, whom of succours we entreated, Returns us that his powers are yet not ready To raise so great a siege. Therefore, great King, We yield our town and lives to thy soft mercy. Enter our gates; dispose of us and ours; For we no longer are defensible. KING HENRY. Open your gates. [Exit GOVERNOR] Come, uncle Exeter, Go you and enter Harfleur; there remain, And fortify it strongly 'gainst the French; Use mercy to them all. For us, dear uncle, The winter coming on, and sickness growing Upon our soldiers, we will retire to Calais. To-night in Harfleur will we be your guest; To-morrow for the march are we addrest. [Flourish. The KING and his train enter the town] SCENE IV. Rouen. The FRENCH KING'S palace Enter KATHERINE and ALICE KATHERINE. Alice, tu as ete en Angleterre, et tu parles bien le langage. ALICE. Un peu, madame. KATHERINE. Je te prie, m'enseignez; il faut que j'apprenne a parler. Comment appelez-vous la main en Anglais? ALICE. La main? Elle est appelee de hand. KATHERINE. De hand. Et les doigts? ALICE. Les doigts? Ma foi, j'oublie les doigts; mais je me souviendrai. Les doigts? Je pense qu'ils sont appeles de fingres; oui, de fingres. KATHERINE. La main, de hand; les doigts, de fingres. Je pense que je suis le bon ecolier; j'ai gagne deux mots d'Anglais vitement. Comment appelez-vous les ongles? ALICE. Les ongles? Nous les appelons de nails. KATHERINE. De nails. Ecoutez; dites-moi si je parle bien: de hand, de fingres, et de nails. ALICE. C'est bien dit, madame; il est fort bon Anglais. KATHERINE. Dites-moi l'Anglais pour le bras. ALICE. De arm, madame. KATHERINE. Et le coude? ALICE. D'elbow. KATHERINE. D'elbow. Je m'en fais la repetition de tous les mots que vous m'avez appris des a present. ALICE. Il est trop difficile, madame, comme je pense. KATHERINE. Excusez-moi, Alice; ecoutez: d'hand, de fingre, de nails, d'arma, de bilbow. ALICE. D'elbow, madame. KATHERINE. O Seigneur Dieu, je m'en oublie! D'elbow. Comment appelez-vous le col? ALICE. De nick, madame. KATHERINE. De nick. Et le menton? ALICE. De chin. KATHERINE. De sin. Le col, de nick; le menton, de sin. ALICE. Oui. Sauf votre honneur, en verite, vous prononcez les mots aussi droit que les natifs d'Angleterre. KATHERINE. Je ne doute point d'apprendre, par la grace de Dieu, et en peu de temps. ALICE. N'avez-vous pas deja oublie ce que je vous ai enseigne? KATHERINE. Non, je reciterai a vous promptement: d'hand, de fingre, de mails- ALICE. De nails, madame. KATHERINE. De nails, de arm, de ilbow. ALICE. Sauf votre honneur, d'elbow. KATHERINE. Ainsi dis-je; d'elbow, de nick, et de sin. Comment appelez-vous le pied et la robe? ALICE. Le foot, madame; et le count. KATHERINE. Le foot et le count. O Seigneur Dieu! ils sont mots de son mauvais, corruptible, gros, et impudique, et non pour les dames d'honneur d'user: je ne voudrais prononcer ces mots devant les seigneurs de France pour tout le monde. Foh! le foot et le count! Neanmoins, je reciterai une autre fois ma lecon ensemble: d'hand, de fingre, de nails, d'arm, d'elbow, de nick, de sin, de foot, le count. ALICE. Excellent, madame! KATHERINE. C'est assez pour une fois: allons-nous a diner. Exeunt SCENE V. The FRENCH KING'S palace Enter the KING OF FRANCE, the DAUPHIN, DUKE OF BRITAINE, the CONSTABLE OF FRANCE, and others FRENCH KING. 'Tis certain he hath pass'd the river Somme. CONSTABLE. And if he be not fought withal, my lord, Let us not live in France; let us quit an, And give our vineyards to a barbarous people. DAUPHIN. O Dieu vivant! Shall a few sprays of us, The emptying of our fathers' luxury, Our scions, put in wild and savage stock, Spirt up so suddenly into the clouds, And overlook their grafters? BRITAINE. Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards! Mort Dieu, ma vie! if they march along Unfought withal, but I will sell my dukedom To buy a slobb'ry and a dirty farm In that nook-shotten isle of Albion. CONSTABLE. Dieu de batailles! where have they this mettle? Is not their climate foggy, raw, and dull; On whom, as in despite, the sun looks pale, Killing their fruit with frowns? Can sodden water, A drench for sur-rein'd jades, their barley-broth, Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat? And shall our quick blood, spirited with wine, Seem frosty? O, for honour of our land, Let us not hang like roping icicles Upon our houses' thatch, whiles a more frosty people Sweat drops of gallant youth in our rich fields- Poor we call them in their native lords! DAUPHIN. By faith and honour, Our madams mock at us and plainly say Our mettle is bred out, and they will give Their bodies to the lust of English youth To new-store France with bastard warriors. BRITAINE. They bid us to the English dancing-schools And teach lavoltas high and swift corantos, Saying our grace is only in our heels And that we are most lofty runaways. FRENCH KING. Where is Montjoy the herald? Speed him hence; Let him greet England with our sharp defiance. Up, Princes, and, with spirit of honour edged More sharper than your swords, hie to the field: Charles Delabreth, High Constable of France; You Dukes of Orleans, Bourbon, and of Berri, Alengon, Brabant, Bar, and Burgundy; Jaques Chatillon, Rambures, Vaudemont, Beaumont, Grandpre, Roussi, and Fauconbridge, Foix, Lestrake, Bouciqualt, and Charolois; High dukes, great princes, barons, lords, and knights, For your great seats now quit you of great shames. Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our land With pennons painted in the blood of Harfleur. Rush on his host as doth the melted snow Upon the valleys, whose low vassal seat The Alps doth spit and void his rheum upon; Go down upon him, you have power enough, And in a captive chariot into Rouen Bring him our prisoner. CONSTABLE. This becomes the great. Sorry am I his numbers are so few, His soldiers sick and famish'd in their march; For I am sure, when he shall see our army, He'll drop his heart into the sink of fear, And for achievement offer us his ransom. FRENCH KING. Therefore, Lord Constable, haste on Montjoy, And let him say to England that we send To know what willing ransom he will give. Prince Dauphin, you shall stay with us in Rouen. DAUPHIN. Not so, I do beseech your Majesty. FRENCH KING. Be patient, for you shall remain with us. Now forth, Lord Constable and Princes all, And quickly bring us word of England's fall. Exeunt SCENE VI. The English camp in Picardy Enter CAPTAINS, English and Welsh, GOWER and FLUELLEN GOWER. How now, Captain Fluellen! Come you from the bridge? FLUELLEN. I assure you there is very excellent services committed at the bridge. GOWER. Is the Duke of Exeter safe? FLUELLEN. The Duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as Agamemnon; and a man that I love and honour with my soul, and my heart, and my duty, and my live, and my living, and my uttermost power. He is not- God be praised and blessed!- any hurt in the world, but keeps the bridge most valiantly, with excellent discipline. There is an aunchient Lieutenant there at the bridge- I think in my very conscience he is as valiant a man as Mark Antony; and he is man of no estimation in the world; but I did see him do as gallant service. GOWER. What do you call him? FLUELLEN. He is call'd Aunchient Pistol. GOWER. I know him not. Enter PISTOL FLUELLEN. Here is the man. PISTOL. Captain, I thee beseech to do me favours. The Duke of Exeter doth love thee well. FLUELLEN. Ay, I praise God; and I have merited some love at his hands. PISTOL. Bardolph, a soldier, firm and sound of heart, And of buxom valour, hath by cruel fate And giddy Fortune's furious fickle wheel, That goddess blind, That stands upon the rolling restless stone- FLUELLEN. By your patience, Aunchient Pistol. Fortune is painted blind, with a muffler afore her eyes, to signify to you that Fortune is blind; and she is painted also with a wheel, to signify to you, which is the moral of it, that she is turning, and inconstant, and mutability, and variation; and her foot, look you, is fixed upon a spherical stone, which rolls, and rolls, and rolls. In good truth, the poet makes a most excellent description of it: Fortune is an excellent moral. PISTOL. Fortune is Bardolph's foe, and frowns on him; For he hath stol'n a pax, and hanged must 'a be- A damned death! Let gallows gape for dog; let man go free, And let not hemp his windpipe suffocate. But Exeter hath given the doom of death For pax of little price. Therefore, go speak- the Duke will hear thy voice; And let not Bardolph's vital thread be cut With edge of penny cord and vile reproach. Speak, Captain, for his life, and I will thee requite. FLUELLEN. Aunchient Pistol, I do partly understand your meaning. PISTOL. Why then, rejoice therefore. FLUELLEN. Certainly, Aunchient, it is not a thing to rejoice at; for if, look you, he were my brother, I would desire the Duke to use his good pleasure, and put him to execution; for discipline ought to be used. PISTOL. Die and be damn'd! and figo for thy friendship! FLUELLEN. It is well. PISTOL. The fig of Spain! Exit FLUELLEN. Very good. GOWER. Why, this is an arrant counterfeit rascal; I remember him now- a bawd, a cutpurse. FLUELLEN. I'll assure you, 'a utt'red as prave words at the pridge as you shall see in a summer's day. But it is very well; what he has spoke to me, that is well, I warrant you, when time is serve. GOWER. Why, 'tis a gull a fool a rogue, that now and then goes to the wars to grace himself, at his return into London, under the form of a soldier. And such fellows are perfect in the great commanders' names; and they will learn you by rote where services were done- at such and such a sconce, at such a breach, at such a convoy; who came off bravely, who was shot, who disgrac'd, what terms the enemy stood on; and this they con perfectly in the phrase of war, which they trick up with new-tuned oaths; and what a beard of the General's cut and a horrid suit of the camp will do among foaming bottles and ale-wash'd wits is wonderful to be thought on. But you must learn to know such slanders of the age, or else you may be marvellously mistook. FLUELLEN. I tell you what, Captain Gower, I do perceive he is not the man that he would gladly make show to the world he is; if I find a hole in his coat I will tell him my mind. [Drum within] Hark you, the King is coming; and I must speak with him from the pridge. Drum and colours. Enter the KING and his poor soldiers, and GLOUCESTER God pless your Majesty! KING HENRY. How now, Fluellen! Cam'st thou from the bridge? FLUELLEN. Ay, so please your Majesty. The Duke of Exeter has very gallantly maintain'd the pridge; the French is gone off, look you, and there is gallant and most prave passages. Marry, th' athversary was have possession of the pridge; but he is enforced to retire, and the Duke of Exeter is master of the pridge; I can tell your Majesty the Duke is a prave man. KING HENRY. What men have you lost, Fluellen! FLUELLEN. The perdition of th' athversary hath been very great, reasonable great; marry, for my part, I think the Duke hath lost never a man, but one that is like to be executed for robbing a church- one Bardolph, if your Majesty know the man; his face is all bubukles, and whelks, and knobs, and flames o' fire; and his lips blows at his nose, and it is like a coal of fire, sometimes plue and sometimes red; but his nose is executed and his fire's out. KING HENRY. We would have all such offenders so cut off. And we give express charge that in our marches through the country there be nothing compell'd from the villages, nothing taken but paid for, none of the French upbraided or abused in disdainful language; for when lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom the gentler gamester is the soonest winner. Tucket. Enter MONTJOY MONTJOY. You know me by my habit. KING HENRY. Well then, I know thee; what shall I know of thee? MONTJOY. My master's mind. KING HENRY. Unfold it. MONTJOY. Thus says my king. Say thou to Harry of England: Though we seem'd dead we did but sleep; advantage is a better soldier than rashness. Tell him we could have rebuk'd him at Harfleur, but that we thought not good to bruise an injury till it were full ripe. Now we speak upon our cue, and our voice is imperial: England shall repent his folly, see his weakness, and admire our sufferance. Bid him therefore consider of his ransom, which must proportion the losses we have borne, the subjects we have lost, the disgrace we have digested; which, in weight to re-answer, his pettiness would bow under. For our losses his exchequer is too poor; for th' effusion of our blood, the muster of his kingdom too faint a number; and for our disgrace, his own person kneeling at our feet but a weak and worthless satisfaction. To this add defiance; and tell him, for conclusion, he hath betrayed his followers, whose condemnation is pronounc'd. So far my king and master; so much my office. KING HENRY. What is thy name? I know thy quality. MONTJOY. Montjoy. KING HENRY. Thou dost thy office fairly. Turn thee back, And tell thy king I do not seek him now, But could be willing to march on to Calais Without impeachment; for, to say the sooth- Though 'tis no wisdom to confess so much Unto an enemy of craft and vantage- My people are with sickness much enfeebled; My numbers lessen'd; and those few I have Almost no better than so many French; Who when they were in health, I tell thee, herald, I thought upon one pair of English legs Did march three Frenchmen. Yet forgive me, God, That I do brag thus; this your air of France Hath blown that vice in me; I must repent. Go, therefore, tell thy master here I am; My ransom is this frail and worthless trunk; My army but a weak and sickly guard; Yet, God before, tell him we will come on, Though France himself and such another neighbour Stand in our way. There's for thy labour, Montjoy. Go, bid thy master well advise himself. If we may pass, we will; if we be hind'red, We shall your tawny ground with your red blood Discolour; and so, Montjoy, fare you well. The sum of all our answer is but this: We would not seek a battle as we are; Nor as we are, we say, we will not shun it. So tell your master. MONTJOY. I shall deliver so. Thanks to your Highness. Exit GLOUCESTER. I hope they will not come upon us now. KING HENRY. We are in God's hand, brother, not in theirs. March to the bridge, it now draws toward night; Beyond the river we'll encamp ourselves, And on to-morrow bid them march away. Exeunt SCENE VII. The French camp near Agincourt Enter the CONSTABLE OF FRANCE, the LORD RAMBURES, the DUKE OF ORLEANS, the DAUPHIN, with others CONSTABLE. Tut! I have the best armour of the world. Would it were day! ORLEANS. You have an excellent armour; but let my horse have his due. CONSTABLE. It is the best horse of Europe. ORLEANS. Will it never be morning? DAUPHIN. My Lord of Orleans and my Lord High Constable, you talk of horse and armour? ORLEANS. You are as well provided of both as any prince in the world. DAUPHIN. What a long night is this! I will not change my horse with any that treads but on four pasterns. Ca, ha! he bounds from the earth as if his entrails were hairs; le cheval volant, the Pegasus, chez les narines de feu! When I bestride him I soar, I am a hawk. He trots the air; the earth sings when he touches it; the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes. ORLEANS. He's of the colour of the nutmeg. DAUPHIN. And of the heat of the ginger. It is a beast for Perseus: he is pure air and fire; and the dull elements of earth and water never appear in him, but only in patient stillness while his rider mounts him; he is indeed a horse, and all other jades you may call beasts. CONSTABLE. Indeed, my lord, it is a most absolute and excellent horse. DAUPHIN. It is the prince of palfreys; his neigh is like the bidding of a monarch, and