William Shakespeare. The Life Of King Henry The Fifth



        1599



DRAMATIS PERSONAE

        CHORUS
  KING HENRY THE FIFTH
  DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, brother to the King
  DUKE OF BEDFORD,       "     "  "    "
  DUKE OF EXETER, Uncle to the King
  DUKE OF YORK, cousin to the King
  EARL OF SALISBURY
  EARL OF WESTMORELAND
  EARL OF WARWICK
  ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY
  BISHOP OF ELY

  EARL OF CAMBRIDGE, conspirator against the King
  LORD SCROOP,            "         "     "    "
  SIR THOMAS GREY,        "         "     "    "
  SIR THOMAS ERPINGHAM, officer in the King's army
  GOWER,                  "      "  "    "     "
  FLUELLEN,               "      "  "    "     "
  MACMORRIS,              "      "  "    "     "
  JAMY,                   "      "  "    "     "

  BATES,    soldier in the King's army
  COURT,       "    "   "    "     "
  WILLIAMS,    "    "   "    "     "
  NYM,         "    "   "    "     "
  BARDOLPH,    "    "   "    "     "
  PISTOL,      "    "   "    "     "

        BOY                               A HERALD

  CHARLES THE SIXTH, King of France
  LEWIS, the Dauphin                DUKE OF BURGUNDY
  DUKE OF ORLEANS                   DUKE OF BRITAINE
  DUKE OF BOURBON                   THE CONSTABLE OF FRANCE
  RAMBURES, French Lord
  GRANDPRE,    "    "
  GOVERNOR OF HARFLEUR              MONTJOY, a French herald
  AMBASSADORS to the King of England

  ISABEL, Queen of France
  KATHERINE, daughter to Charles and Isabel
  ALICE, a lady attending her
  HOSTESS of the Boar's Head, Eastcheap; formerly Mrs. Quickly, now
    married to Pistol

  Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, Attendants


        SCENE:
                        England and France

PROLOGUE
                            PROLOGUE.

                          Enter CHORUS

 CHORUS. O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
   The brightest heaven of invention,
   A kingdom for a stage, princes to act,
   And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!
   Then should the warlike Harry, like himself,
   Assume the port of Mars; and at his heels,
   Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword, and fire,
   Crouch for employment. But pardon, gentles all,
   The flat unraised spirits that hath dar'd
   On this unworthy scaffold to bring forth
   So great an object. Can this cockpit hold
   The vasty fields of France? Or may we cram
   Within this wooden O the very casques
   That did affright the air at Agincourt?
   O, pardon! since a crooked figure may
   Attest in little place a million;
   And let us, ciphers to this great accompt,
   On your imaginary forces work.
   Suppose within the girdle of these walls
   Are now confin'd two mighty monarchies,
   Whose high upreared and abutting fronts
   The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder.
   Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts:
   Into a thousand parts divide one man,
   And make imaginary puissance;
   Think, when we talk of horses, that you see them
   Printing their proud hoofs i' th' receiving earth;
   For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings,
   Carry them here and there, jumping o'er times,
   Turning th' accomplishment of many years
   Into an hour-glass; for the which supply,
   Admit me Chorus to this history;
   Who prologue-like, your humble patience pray
   Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our play.               Exit





ACT I. SCENE I.
London. An ante-chamber in the KING'S palace

Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY and the BISHOP OF ELY

 CANTERBURY. My lord, I'll tell you: that self bill is urg'd
   Which in th' eleventh year of the last king's reign
   Was like, and had indeed against us pass'd
   But that the scambling and unquiet time
   Did push it out of farther question.
 ELY. But how, my lord, shall we resist it now?
 CANTERBURY. It must be thought on. If it pass against us,
   We lose the better half of our possession;
   For all the temporal lands which men devout
   By testament have given to the church
   Would they strip from us; being valu'd thus-
   As much as would maintain, to the King's honour,
   Full fifteen earls and fifteen hundred knights,
   Six thousand and two hundred good esquires;
   And, to relief of lazars and weak age,
   Of indigent faint souls, past corporal toil,
   A hundred alms-houses right well supplied;
   And to the coffers of the King, beside,
   A thousand pounds by th' year: thus runs the bill.
 ELY. This would drink deep.
 CANTERBURY. 'T would drink the cup and all.
 ELY. But what prevention?
 CANTERBURY. The King is full of grace and fair regard.
 ELY. And a true lover of the holy Church.
 CANTERBURY. The courses of his youth promis'd it not.
   The breath no sooner left his father's body
   But that his wildness, mortified in him,
   Seem'd to die too; yea, at that very moment,
   Consideration like an angel came
   And whipp'd th' offending Adam out of him,
   Leaving his body as a paradise
   T'envelop and contain celestial spirits.
   Never was such a sudden scholar made;
   Never came reformation in a flood,
   With such a heady currance, scouring faults;
   Nor never Hydra-headed wilfulnes
   So soon did lose his seat, and all at once,
   As in this king.
 ELY. We are blessed in the change.
 CANTERBURY. Hear him but reason in divinity,
   And, all-admiring, with an inward wish
   You would desire the King were made a prelate;
   Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs,
   You would say it hath been all in all his study;
   List his discourse of war, and you shall hear
   A fearful battle rend'red you in music.
   Turn him to any cause of policy,
   The Gordian knot of it he will unloose,
   Familiar as his garter; that, when he speaks,
   The air, a charter'd libertine, is still,
   And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears
   To steal his sweet and honey'd sentences;
   So that the art and practic part of life
   Must be the mistress to this theoric;
   Which is a wonder how his Grace should glean it,
   Since his addiction was to courses vain,
   His companies unletter'd, rude, and shallow,
   His hours fill'd up with riots, banquets, sports;
   And never noted in him any study,
   Any retirement, any sequestration
   From open haunts and popularity.
 ELY. The strawberry grows underneath the nettle,
   And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best
   Neighbour'd by fruit of baser quality;
   And so the Prince obscur'd his contemplation
   Under the veil of wildness; which, no doubt,
   Grew like the summer grass, fastest by night,
   Unseen, yet crescive in his faculty.
 CANTERBURY. It must be so; for miracles are ceas'd;
   And therefore we must needs admit the means
   How things are perfected.
 ELY. But, my good lord,
   How now for mitigation of this bill
   Urg'd by the Commons? Doth his Majesty
   Incline to it, or no?
 CANTERBURY. He seems indifferent
   Or rather swaying more upon our part
   Than cherishing th' exhibiters against us;
   For I have made an offer to his Majesty-
   Upon our spiritual convocation
   And in regard of causes now in hand,
   Which I have open'd to his Grace at large,
   As touching France- to give a greater sum
   Than ever at one time the clergy yet
   Did to his predecessors part withal.
 ELY. How did this offer seem receiv'd, my lord?
 CANTERBURY. With good acceptance of his Majesty;
   Save that there was not time enough to hear,
   As I perceiv'd his Grace would fain have done,
   The severals and unhidden passages
   Of his true tides to some certain dukedoms,
   And generally to the crown and seat of France,
   Deriv'd from Edward, his great-grandfather.
 ELY. What was th' impediment that broke this off?
 CANTERBURY. The French ambassador upon that instant
   Crav'd audience; and the hour, I think, is come
   To give him hearing: is it four o'clock?
 ELY. It is.
 CANTERBURY. Then go we in, to know his embassy;
   Which I could with a ready guess declare,
   Before the Frenchman speak a word of it.
 ELY. I'll wait upon you, and I long to hear it.          Exeunt




SCENE II.
London. The Presence Chamber in the KING'S palace

Enter the KING, GLOUCESTER, BEDFORD, EXETER, WARWICK, WESTMORELAND,
and attendants

  KING HENRY. Where is my gracious Lord of Canterbury?
  EXETER. Not here in presence.
  KING HENRY. Send for him, good uncle.
  WESTMORELAND. Shall we call in th' ambassador, my liege?
  KING HENRY. Not yet, my cousin; we would be resolv'd,
    Before we hear him, of some things of weight
    That task our thoughts, concerning us and France.

              Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY and
                       the BISHOP OF ELY

  CANTERBURY. God and his angels guard your sacred throne,
    And make you long become it!
  KING HENRY. Sure, we thank you.
    My learned lord, we pray you to proceed,
    And justly and religiously unfold
    Why the law Salique, that they have in France,
    Or should or should not bar us in our claim;
    And God forbid, my dear and faithful lord,
    That you should fashion, wrest, or bow your reading,
    Or nicely charge your understanding soul
    With opening titles miscreate whose right
    Suits not in native colours with the truth;
    For God doth know how many, now in health,
    Shall drop their blood in approbation
    Of what your reverence shall incite us to.
    Therefore take heed how you impawn our person,
    How you awake our sleeping sword of war-
    We charge you, in the name of God, take heed;
    For never two such kingdoms did contend
    Without much fall of blood; whose guiltless drops
    Are every one a woe, a sore complaint,
    'Gainst him whose wrongs gives edge unto the swords
    That makes such waste in brief mortality.
    Under this conjuration speak, my lord;
    For we will hear, note, and believe in heart,
    That what you speak is in your conscience wash'd
    As pure as sin with baptism.
  CANTERBURY. Then hear me, gracious sovereign, and you peers,
    That owe yourselves, your lives, and services,
    To this imperial throne. There is no bar
    To make against your Highness' claim to France
    But this, which they produce from Pharamond:
    'In terram Salicam mulieres ne succedant'-
    'No woman shall succeed in Salique land';
    Which Salique land the French unjustly gloze
    To be the realm of France, and Pharamond
    The founder of this law and female bar.
    Yet their own authors faithfully affirm
    That the land Salique is in Germany,
    Between the floods of Sala and of Elbe;
    Where Charles the Great, having subdu'd the Saxons,
    There left behind and settled certain French;
    Who, holding in disdain the German women
    For some dishonest manners of their life,
    Establish'd then this law: to wit, no female
    Should be inheritrix in Salique land;
    Which Salique, as I said, 'twixt Elbe and Sala,
    Is at this day in Germany call'd Meisen.
    Then doth it well appear the Salique law
    Was not devised for the realm of France;
    Nor did the French possess the Salique land
    Until four hundred one and twenty years
    After defunction of King Pharamond,
    Idly suppos'd the founder of this law;
    Who died within the year of our redemption
    Four hundred twenty-six; and Charles the Great
    Subdu'd the Saxons, and did seat the French
    Beyond the river Sala, in the year
    Eight hundred five. Besides, their writers say,
    King Pepin, which deposed Childeric,
    Did, as heir general, being descended
    Of Blithild, which was daughter to King Clothair,
    Make claim and title to the crown of France.
    Hugh Capet also, who usurp'd the crown
    Of Charles the Duke of Lorraine, sole heir male
    Of the true line and stock of Charles the Great,
    To find his title with some shows of truth-
    Though in pure truth it was corrupt and naught-
    Convey'd himself as th' heir to th' Lady Lingare,
    Daughter to Charlemain, who was the son
    To Lewis the Emperor, and Lewis the son
    Of Charles the Great. Also King Lewis the Tenth,
    Who was sole heir to the usurper Capet,
    Could not keep quiet in his conscience,
    Wearing the crown of France, till satisfied
    That fair Queen Isabel, his grandmother,
    Was lineal of the Lady Ermengare,
    Daughter to Charles the foresaid Duke of Lorraine;
    By the which marriage the line of Charles the Great
    Was re-united to the Crown of France.
    So that, as clear as is the summer's sun,
    King Pepin's title, and Hugh Capet's claim,
    King Lewis his satisfaction, all appear
    To hold in right and tide of the female;
    So do the kings of France unto this day,
    Howbeit they would hold up this Salique law
    To bar your Highness claiming from the female;
    And rather choose to hide them in a net
    Than amply to imbar their crooked tides
    Usurp'd from you and your progenitors.
  KING HENRY. May I with right and conscience make this claim?
  CANTERBURY. The sin upon my head, dread sovereign!
    For in the book of Numbers is it writ,
    When the man dies, let the inheritance
    Descend unto the daughter. Gracious lord,
    Stand for your own, unwind your bloody flag,
    Look back into your mighty ancestors.
    Go, my dread lord, to your great-grandsire's tomb,
    From whom you claim; invoke his warlike spirit,
    And your great-uncle's, Edward the Black Prince,
    Who on the French ground play'd a tragedy,
    Making defeat on the fun power of France,
    Whiles his most mighty father on a hill
    Stood smiling to behold his lion's whelp
    Forage in blood of French nobility.
    O noble English, that could entertain
    With half their forces the full pride of France,
    And let another half stand laughing by,
    All out of work and cold for action!
  ELY. Awake remembrance of these valiant dead,
    And with your puissant arm renew their feats.
    You are their heir; you sit upon their throne;
    The blood and courage that renowned them
    Runs in your veins; and my thrice-puissant liege
    Is in the very May-morn of his youth,
    Ripe for exploits and mighty enterprises.
  EXETER. Your brother kings and monarchs of the earth
    Do all expect that you should rouse yourself,
    As did the former lions of your blood.
  WESTMORELAND. They know your Grace hath cause and means and might-
    So hath your Highness; never King of England
    Had nobles richer and more loyal subjects,
    Whose hearts have left their bodies here in England
    And lie pavilion'd in the fields of France.
  CANTERBURY. O, let their bodies follow, my dear liege,
    With blood and sword and fire to win your right!
    In aid whereof we of the spiritualty
    Will raise your Highness such a mighty sum
    As never did the clergy at one time
    Bring in to any of your ancestors.
  KING HENRY. We must not only arm t' invade the French,
    But lay down our proportions to defend
    Against the Scot, who will make road upon us
    With all advantages.
  CANTERBURY. They of those marches, gracious sovereign,
    Shall be a wall sufficient to defend
    Our inland from the pilfering borderers.
  KING HENRY. We do not mean the coursing snatchers only,
    But fear the main intendment of the Scot,
    Who hath been still a giddy neighbour to us;
    For you shall read that my great-grandfather
    Never went with his forces into France
    But that the Scot on his unfurnish'd kingdom
    Came pouring, like the tide into a breach,
    With ample and brim fulness of his force,
    Galling the gleaned land with hot assays,
    Girdling with grievous siege castles and towns;
    That England, being empty of defence,
    Hath shook and trembled at th' ill neighbourhood.
  CANTERBURY. She hath been then more fear'd than harm'd, my liege;
    For hear her but exampled by herself:
    When all her chivalry hath been in France,
    And she a mourning widow of her nobles,
    She hath herself not only well defended
    But taken and impounded as a stray
    The King of Scots; whom she did send to France,
    To fill King Edward's fame with prisoner kings,
    And make her chronicle as rich with praise
    As is the ooze and bottom of the sea
    With sunken wreck and sumless treasuries.
  WESTMORELAND. But there's a saying, very old and true:

          'If that you will France win,
          Then with Scotland first begin.'

    For once the eagle England being in prey,
    To her unguarded nest the weasel Scot
    Comes sneaking, and so sucks her princely eggs,
    Playing the mouse in absence of the cat,
    To tear and havoc more than she can eat.
  EXETER. It follows, then, the cat must stay at home;
    Yet that is but a crush'd necessity,
    Since we have locks to safeguard necessaries
    And pretty traps to catch the petty thieves.
    While that the armed hand doth fight abroad,
    Th' advised head defends itself at home;
    For government, though high, and low, and lower,
    Put into parts, doth keep in one consent,
    Congreeing in a full and natural close,
    Like music.
  CANTERBURY. Therefore doth heaven divide
    The state of man in divers functions,
    Setting endeavour in continual motion;
    To which is fixed as an aim or but
    Obedience; for so work the honey bees,
    Creatures that by a rule in nature teach
    The act of order to a peopled kingdom.
    They have a king, and officers of sorts,
    Where some like magistrates correct at home;
    Others like merchants venture trade abroad;
    Others like soldiers, armed in their stings,
    Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds,
    Which pillage they with merry march bring home
    To the tent-royal of their emperor;
    Who, busied in his majesty, surveys
    The singing masons building roofs of gold,
    The civil citizens kneading up the honey,
    The poor mechanic porters crowding in
    Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate,
    The sad-ey'd justice, with his surly hum,
    Delivering o'er to executors pale
    The lazy yawning drone. I this infer,
    That many things, having full reference
    To one consent, may work contrariously;
    As many arrows loosed several ways
    Come to one mark, as many ways meet in one town,
    As many fresh streams meet in one salt sea,
    As many lines close in the dial's centre;
    So many a thousand actions, once afoot,
    End in one purpose, and be all well home
    Without defeat. Therefore to France, my liege.
    Divide your happy England into four;
    Whereof take you one quarter into France,
    And you withal shall make all Gallia shake.
    If we, with thrice such powers left at home,
    Cannot defend our own doors from the dog,
    Let us be worried, and our nation lose
    The name of hardiness and policy.
  KING HENRY. Call in the messengers sent from the Dauphin.
                                          Exeunt some attendants
    Now are we well resolv'd; and, by God's help
    And yours, the noble sinews of our power,
    France being ours, we'll bend it to our awe,
    Or break it all to pieces; or there we'll sit,
    Ruling in large and ample empery
    O'er France and all her almost kingly dukedoms,
    Or lay these bones in an unworthy urn,
    Tombless, with no remembrance over them.
    Either our history shall with full mouth
    Speak freely of our acts, or else our grave,
    Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless mouth,
    Not worshipp'd with a waxen epitaph.

                  Enter AMBASSADORS of France

    Now are we well prepar'd to know the pleasure
    Of our fair cousin Dauphin; for we hear
    Your greeting is from him, not from the King.
  AMBASSADOR. May't please your Majesty to give us leave
    Freely to render what we have in charge;
    Or shall we sparingly show you far of
    The Dauphin's meaning and our embassy?
  KING HENRY. We are no tyrant, but a Christian king,
    Unto whose grace our passion is as subject
    As are our wretches fett'red in our prisons;
    Therefore with frank and with uncurbed plainness
    Tell us the Dauphin's mind.
  AMBASSADOR. Thus then, in few.
    Your Highness, lately sending into France,
    Did claim some certain dukedoms in the right
    Of your great predecessor, King Edward the Third.
    In answer of which claim, the Prince our master
    Says that you savour too much of your youth,
    And bids you be advis'd there's nought in France
    That can be with a nimble galliard won;
    You cannot revel into dukedoms there.
    He therefore sends you, meeter for your spirit,
    This tun of treasure; and, in lieu of this,
    Desires you let the dukedoms that you claim
    Hear no more of you. This the Dauphin speaks.
  KING HENRY. What treasure, uncle?
  EXETER. Tennis-balls, my liege.
  KING HENRY. We are glad the Dauphin is so pleasant with us;
    His present and your pains we thank you for.
    When we have match'd our rackets to these balls,
    We will in France, by God's grace, play a set
    Shall strike his father's crown into the hazard.
    Tell him he hath made a match with such a wrangler
    That all the courts of France will be disturb'd
    With chaces. And we understand him well,
    How he comes o'er us with our wilder days,
    Not measuring what use we made of them.
    We never valu'd this poor seat of England;
    And therefore, living hence, did give ourself
    To barbarous licence; as 'tis ever common
    That men are merriest when they are from home.
    But tell the Dauphin I will keep my state,
    Be like a king, and show my sail of greatness,
    When I do rouse me in my throne of France;
    For that I have laid by my majesty
    And plodded like a man for working-days;
    But I will rise there with so full a glory
    That I will dazzle all the eyes of France,
    Yea, strike the Dauphin blind to look on us.
    And tell the pleasant Prince this mock of his
    Hath turn'd his balls to gun-stones, and his soul
    Shall stand sore charged for the wasteful vengeance
    That shall fly with them; for many a thousand widows
    Shall this his mock mock of their dear husbands;
    Mock mothers from their sons, mock castles down;
    And some are yet ungotten and unborn
    That shall have cause to curse the Dauphin's scorn.
    But this lies all within the will of God,
    To whom I do appeal; and in whose name,
    Tell you the Dauphin, I am coming on,
    To venge me as I may and to put forth
    My rightful hand in a well-hallow'd cause.
    So get you hence in peace; and tell the Dauphin
    His jest will savour but of shallow wit,
    When thousands weep more than did laugh at it.
    Convey them with safe conduct. Fare you well.
                                              Exeunt AMBASSADORS
  EXETER. This was a merry message.
  KING HENRY. We hope to make the sender blush at it.
    Therefore, my lords, omit no happy hour
    That may give furth'rance to our expedition;
    For we have now no thought in us but France,
    Save those to God, that run before our business.
    Therefore let our proportions for these wars
    Be soon collected, and all things thought upon
    That may with reasonable swiftness ad
    More feathers to our wings; for, God before,
    We'll chide this Dauphin at his father's door.
    Therefore let every man now task his thought
    That this fair action may on foot be brought.         Exeunt





ACT II. PROLOGUE.

Flourish. Enter CHORUS

  CHORUS. Now all the youth of England are on fire,
    And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies;
    Now thrive the armourers, and honour's thought
    Reigns solely in the breast of every man;
    They sell the pasture now to buy the horse,
    Following the mirror of all Christian kings
    With winged heels, as English Mercuries.
    For now sits Expectation in the air,
    And hides a sword from hilts unto the point
    With crowns imperial, crowns, and coronets,
    Promis'd to Harry and his followers.
    The French, advis'd by good intelligence
    Of this most dreadful preparation,
    Shake in their fear and with pale policy
    Seek to divert the English purposes.
    O England! model to thy inward greatness,
    Like little body with a mighty heart,
    What mightst thou do that honour would thee do,
    Were all thy children kind and natural!
    But see thy fault! France hath in thee found out
    A nest of hollow bosoms, which he fills
    With treacherous crowns; and three corrupted men-
    One, Richard Earl of Cambridge, and the second,
    Henry Lord Scroop of Masham, and the third,
    Sir Thomas Grey, knight, of Northumberland,
    Have, for the gilt of France- O guilt indeed!-
    Confirm'd conspiracy with fearful France;
    And by their hands this grace of kings must die-
    If hell and treason hold their promises,
    Ere he take ship for France- and in Southampton.
    Linger your patience on, and we'll digest
    Th' abuse of distance, force a play.
    The sum is paid, the traitors are agreed,
    The King is set from London, and the scene
    Is now transported, gentles, to Southampton;
    There is the play-house now, there must you sit,
    And thence to France shall we convey you safe
    And bring you back, charming the narrow seas
    To give you gentle pass; for, if we may,
    We'll not offend one stomach with our play.
    But, till the King come forth, and not till then,
    Unto Southampton do we shift our scene.                 Exit




SCENE I.
London. Before the Boar's Head Tavern, Eastcheap

Enter CORPORAL NYM and LIEUTENANT BARDOLPH

  BARDOLPH. Well met, Corporal Nym.
  NYM. Good morrow, Lieutenant Bardolph.
  BARDOLPH. What, are Ancient Pistol and you friends yet?
  NYM. For my part, I care not; I say little, but when time shall
    serve, there shall be smiles- but that shall be as it may. I dare
    not fight; but I will wink and hold out mine iron. It is a simple
    one; but what though? It will toast cheese, and it will endure
    cold as another man's sword will; and there's an end.
  BARDOLPH. I will bestow a breakfast to make you friends; and we'll
    be all three sworn brothers to France. Let't be so, good Corporal
    Nym.
  NYM. Faith, I will live so long as I may, that's the certain of it;
    and when I cannot live any longer, I will do as I may. That is my
    rest, that is the rendezvous of it.
  BARDOLPH. It is certain, Corporal, that he is married to Nell
    Quickly; and certainly she did you wrong, for you were
    troth-plight to her.
  NYM. I cannot tell; things must be as they may. Men may sleep, and
    they may have their throats about them at that time; and some say
    knives have edges. It must be as it may; though patience be a
    tired mare, yet she will plod. There must be conclusions. Well, I
    cannot tell.

                     Enter PISTOL and HOSTESS

  BARDOLPH. Here comes Ancient Pistol and his wife. Good Corporal, be
    patient here.
  NYM. How now, mine host Pistol!
  PISTOL. Base tike, call'st thou me host?
    Now by this hand, I swear I scorn the term;
    Nor shall my Nell keep lodgers.
  HOSTESS. No, by my troth, not long; for we cannot lodge and board a
    dozen or fourteen gentlewomen that live honestly by the prick of
    their needles, but it will be thought we keep a bawdy-house
    straight. [Nym draws] O well-a-day, Lady, if he be not drawn! Now
    we shall see wilful adultery and murder committed.
  BARDOLPH. Good Lieutenant, good Corporal, offer nothing here.
  NYM. Pish!
  PISTOL. Pish for thee, Iceland dog! thou prick-ear'd cur of
    Iceland!
  HOSTESS. Good Corporal Nym, show thy valour, and put up your sword.
  NYM. Will you shog off? I would have you solus.
  PISTOL. 'Solus,' egregious dog? O viper vile!
    The 'solus' in thy most mervailous face;
    The 'solus' in thy teeth, and in thy throat,
    And in thy hateful lungs, yea, in thy maw, perdy;
    And, which is worse, within thy nasty mouth!
    I do retort the 'solus' in thy bowels;
    For I can take, and Pistol's cock is up,
    And flashing fire will follow.
  NYM. I am not Barbason: you cannot conjure me. I have an humour to
    knock you indifferently well. If you grow foul with me, Pistol, I
    will scour you with my rapier, as I may, in fair terms; if you
    would walk off I would prick your guts a little, in good terms,
    as I may, and thaes the humour of it.
  PISTOL. O braggart vile and damned furious wight!
    The grave doth gape and doting death is near;
    Therefore exhale.                             [PISTOL draws]
  BARDOLPH. Hear me, hear me what I say: he that strikes the first
    stroke I'll run him up to the hilts, as I am a soldier.
                                                         [Draws]
  PISTOL. An oath of mickle might; and fury shall abate.
                           [PISTOL and Nym sheathe their swords]
    Give me thy fist, thy fore-foot to me give;
    Thy spirits are most tall.
  NYM. I will cut thy throat one time or other, in fair terms; that
    is the humour of it.
  PISTOL. 'Couple a gorge!'
    That is the word. I thee defy again.
    O hound of Crete, think'st thou my spouse to get?
    No; to the spital go,
    And from the powd'ring tub of infamy
    Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid's kind,
    Doll Tearsheet she by name, and her espouse.
    I have, and I will hold, the quondam Quickly
    For the only she; and- pauca, there's enough.
    Go to.

                        Enter the Boy

  BOY. Mine host Pistol, you must come to my master; and your
    hostess- he is very sick, and would to bed. Good Bardolph, put
    thy face between his sheets, and do the office of a warming-pan.
    Faith, he's very ill.
  BARDOLPH. Away, you rogue.
  HOSTESS. By my troth, he'll yield the crow a pudding one of these
    days: the King has kill'd his heart. Good husband, come home
    presently.                            Exeunt HOSTESS and BOY
  BARDOLPH. Come, shall I make you two friends? We must to France
    together; why the devil should we keep knives to cut one
    another's throats?
  PISTOL. Let floods o'erswell, and fiends for food howl on!
  NYM. You'll pay me the eight shillings I won of you at betting?
  PISTOL. Base is the slave that pays.
  NYM. That now I will have; that's the humour of it.
  PISTOL. As manhood shall compound: push home.
                                           [PISTOL and Nym draw]
  BARDOLPH. By this sword, he that makes the first thrust I'll kill
    him; by this sword, I will.
  PISTOL. Sword is an oath, and oaths must have their course.
                                            [Sheathes his sword]
  BARDOLPH. Corporal Nym, an thou wilt be friends, be friends; an
    thou wilt not, why then be enemies with me too. Prithee put up.
  NYM. I shall have my eight shillings I won of you at betting?
  PISTOL. A noble shalt thou have, and present pay;
    And liquor likewise will I give to thee,
    And friendship shall combine, and brotherhood.
    I'll live by Nym and Nym shall live by me.
    Is not this just? For I shall sutler be
    Unto the camp, and profits will accrue.
    Give me thy hand.
  NYM. [Sheathing his sword] I shall have my noble?
  PISTOL. In cash most justly paid.
  NYM. [Shaking hands] Well, then, that's the humour of't.

                       Re-enter HOSTESS

  HOSTESS. As ever you come of women, come in quickly to Sir John.
    Ah, poor heart! he is so shak'd of a burning quotidian tertian
    that it is most lamentable to behold. Sweet men, come to him.
  NYM. The King hath run bad humours on the knight; that's the even
    of it.
  PISTOL. Nym, thou hast spoke the right;
    His heart is fracted and corroborate.
  NYM. The King is a good king, but it must be as it may; he passes
    some humours and careers.
  PISTOL. Let us condole the knight; for, lambkins, we will live.
                                                          Exeunt




SCENE II.
Southampton. A council-chamber

Enter EXETER, BEDFORD, and WESTMORELAND

  BEDFORD. Fore God, his Grace is bold, to trust these traitors.
  EXETER. They shall be apprehended by and by.
  WESTMORELAND. How smooth and even they do bear themselves,
    As if allegiance in their bosoms sat,
    Crowned with faith and constant loyalty!
  BEDFORD. The King hath note of all that they intend,
    By interception which they dream not of.
  EXETER. Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow,
    Whom he hath dull'd and cloy'd with gracious favours-
    That he should, for a foreign purse, so sell
    His sovereign's life to death and treachery!

               Trumpets sound. Enter the KING, SCROOP,
                  CAMBRIDGE, GREY, and attendants

  KING HENRY. Now sits the wind fair, and we will aboard.
    My Lord of Cambridge, and my kind Lord of Masham,
    And you, my gentle knight, give me your thoughts.
    Think you not that the pow'rs we bear with us
    Will cut their passage through the force of France,
    Doing the execution and the act
    For which we have in head assembled them?
  SCROOP. No doubt, my liege, if each man do his best.
  KING HENRY. I doubt not that, since we are well persuaded
    We carry not a heart with us from hence
    That grows not in a fair consent with ours;
    Nor leave not one behind that doth not wish
    Success and conquest to attend on us.
  CAMBRIDGE. Never was monarch better fear'd and lov'd
    Than is your Majesty. There's not, I think, a subject
    That sits in heart-grief and uneasines
    Under the sweet shade of your government.
  GREY. True: those that were your father's enemies
    Have steep'd their galls in honey, and do serve you
    With hearts create of duty and of zeal.
  KING HENRY. We therefore have great cause of thankfulness,
    And shall forget the office of our hand
    Sooner than quittance of desert and merit
    According to the weight and worthiness.
  SCROOP. So service shall with steeled sinews toil,
    And labour shall refresh itself with hope,
    To do your Grace incessant services.
  KING HENRY. We judge no less. Uncle of Exeter,
    Enlarge the man committed yesterday
    That rail'd against our person. We consider
    It was excess of wine that set him on;
    And on his more advice we pardon him.
  SCROOP. That's mercy, but too much security.
    Let him be punish'd, sovereign, lest example
    Breed, by his sufferance, more of such a kind.
  KING HENRY. O, let us yet be merciful!
  CAMBRIDGE. So may your Highness, and yet punish too.
  GREY. Sir,
    You show great mercy if you give him life,
    After the taste of much correction.
  KING HENRY. Alas, your too much love and care of me
    Are heavy orisons 'gainst this poor wretch!
    If little faults proceeding on distemper
    Shall not be wink'd at, how shall we stretch our eye
    When capital crimes, chew'd, swallow'd, and digested,
    Appear before us? We'll yet enlarge that man,
    Though Cambridge, Scroop, and Grey, in their dear care
    And tender preservation of our person,
    Would have him punish'd. And now to our French causes:
    Who are the late commissioners?
  CAMBRIDGE. I one, my lord.
    Your Highness bade me ask for it to-day.
  SCROOP. So did you me, my liege.
  GREY. And I, my royal sovereign.
  KING HENRY. Then, Richard Earl of Cambridge, there is yours;
    There yours, Lord Scroop of Masham; and, Sir Knight,
    Grey of Northumberland, this same is yours.
    Read them, and know I know your worthiness.
    My Lord of Westmoreland, and uncle Exeter,
    We will aboard to-night. Why, how now, gentlemen?
    What see you in those papers, that you lose
    So much complexion? Look ye how they change!
    Their cheeks are paper. Why, what read you there
    That have so cowarded and chas'd your blood
    Out of appearance?
  CAMBRIDGE. I do confess my fault,
    And do submit me to your Highness' mercy.
  GREY, SCROOP. To which we all appeal.
  KING HENRY. The mercy that was quick in us but late
   By your own counsel is suppress'd and kill'd.
    You must not dare, for shame, to talk of mercy;
    For your own reasons turn into your bosoms
    As dogs upon their masters, worrying you.
    See you, my princes and my noble peers,
    These English monsters! My Lord of Cambridge here-
    You know how apt our love was to accord
    To furnish him with an appertinents
    Belonging to his honour; and this man
    Hath, for a few light crowns, lightly conspir'd,
    And sworn unto the practices of France
    To kill us here in Hampton; to the which
    This knight, no less for bounty bound to us
    Than Cambridge is, hath likewise sworn. But, O,
    What shall I say to thee, Lord Scroop, thou cruel,
    Ingrateful, savage, and inhuman creature?
    Thou that didst bear the key of all my counsels,
    That knew'st the very bottom of my soul,
    That almost mightst have coin'd me into gold,
    Wouldst thou have practis'd on me for thy use-
    May it be possible that foreign hire
    Could out of thee extract one spark of evil
    That might annoy my finger? 'Tis so strange
    That, though the truth of it stands off as gross
    As black and white, my eye will scarcely see it.
    Treason and murder ever kept together,
    As two yoke-devils sworn to either's purpose,
    Working so grossly in a natural cause
    That admiration did not whoop at them;
    But thou, 'gainst all proportion, didst bring in
    Wonder to wait on treason and on murder;
    And whatsoever cunning fiend it was
    That wrought upon thee so preposterously
    Hath got the voice in hell for excellence;
    And other devils that suggest by treasons
    Do botch and bungle up damnation
    With patches, colours, and with forms, being fetch'd
    From glist'ring semblances of piety;
    But he that temper'd thee bade thee stand up,
    Gave thee no instance why thou shouldst do treason,
    Unless to dub thee with the name of traitor.
    If that same demon that hath gull'd thee thus
    Should with his lion gait walk the whole world,
    He might return to vasty Tartar back,
    And tell the legions 'I can never win
    A soul so easy as that Englishman's.'
    O, how hast thou with jealousy infected
    The sweetness of affiance! Show men dutiful?
    Why, so didst thou. Seem they grave and learned?
    Why, so didst thou. Come they of noble family?
    Why, so didst thou. Seem they religious?
    Why, so didst thou. Or are they spare in diet,
    Free from gross passion or of mirth or anger,
    Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood,
    Garnish'd and deck'd in modest complement,
    Not working with the eye without the ear,
    And but in purged judgment trusting neither?
    Such and so finely bolted didst thou seem;
    And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot
    To mark the full-fraught man and best indued
    With some suspicion. I will weep for thee;
    For this revolt of thine, methinks, is like
    Another fall of man. Their faults are open.
    Arrest them to the answer of the law;
    And God acquit them of their practices!
  EXETER. I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Richard Earl
      of Cambridge.
    I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Henry Lord Scroop
      of Masham.
    I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Thomas Grey,
      knight, of Northumberland.
  SCROOP. Our purposes God justly hath discover'd,
    And I repent my fault more than my death;
    Which I beseech your Highness to forgive,
    Although my body pay the price of it.
  CAMBRIDGE. For me, the gold of France did not seduce,
    Although I did admit it as a motive
    The sooner to effect what I intended;
    But God be thanked for prevention,
    Which I in sufferance heartily will rejoice,
    Beseeching God and you to pardon me.
  GREY. Never did faithful subject more rejoice
    At the discovery of most dangerous treason
    Than I do at this hour joy o'er myself,
    Prevented from a damned enterprise.
    My fault, but not my body, pardon, sovereign.
  KING HENRY. God quit you in his mercy! Hear your sentence.
    You have conspir'd against our royal person,
    Join'd with an enemy proclaim'd, and from his coffers
    Receiv'd the golden earnest of our death;
    Wherein you would have sold your king to slaughter,
    His princes and his peers to servitude,
    His subjects to oppression and contempt,
    And his whole kingdom into desolation.
    Touching our person seek we no revenge;
    But we our kingdom's safety must so tender,
    Whose ruin you have sought, that to her laws
    We do deliver you. Get you therefore hence,
    Poor miserable wretches, to your death;
    The taste whereof God of his mercy give
    You patience to endure, and true repentance
    Of all your dear offences. Bear them hence.
                     Exeunt CAMBRIDGE, SCROOP, and GREY, guarded
    Now, lords, for France; the enterprise whereof
    Shall be to you as us like glorious.
    We doubt not of a fair and lucky war,
    Since God so graciously hath brought to light
    This dangerous treason, lurking in our way
    To hinder our beginnings; we doubt not now
    But every rub is smoothed on our way.
    Then, forth, dear countrymen; let us deliver
    Our puissance into the hand of God,
    Putting it straight in expedition.
    Cheerly to sea; the signs of war advance;
    No king of England, if not king of France!
                                                Flourish. Exeunt




SCENE III.
Eastcheap. Before the Boar's Head tavern

Enter PISTOL, HOSTESS, NYM, BARDOLPH, and Boy

  HOSTESS. Prithee, honey-sweet husband, let me bring thee to
     Staines.
  PISTOL. No; for my manly heart doth earn.
    Bardolph, be blithe; Nym, rouse thy vaunting veins;
    Boy, bristle thy courage up. For Falstaff he is dead,
    And we must earn therefore.
  BARDOLPH. Would I were with him, wheresome'er he is, either in
    heaven or in hell!
  HOSTESS. Nay, sure, he's not in hell: he's in Arthur's bosom, if
    ever man went to Arthur's bosom. 'A made a finer end, and went
    away an it had been any christom child; 'a parted ev'n just
    between twelve and one, ev'n at the turning o' th' tide; for
    after I saw him fumble with the sheets, and play with flowers,
    and smile upon his fingers' end, I knew there was but one way;
    for his nose was as sharp as a pen, and 'a babbl'd of green
    fields. 'How now, Sir John!' quoth I 'What, man, be o' good
    cheer.' So 'a cried out 'God, God, God!' three or four times. Now
    I, to comfort him, bid him 'a should not think of God; I hop'd
    there was no need to trouble himself with any such thoughts yet.
    So 'a bade me lay more clothes on his feet; I put my hand into
    the bed and felt them, and they were as cold as any stone; then I
    felt to his knees, and so upward and upward, and all was as cold
    as any stone.
  NYM. They say he cried out of sack.
  HOSTESS. Ay, that 'a did.
  BARDOLPH. And of women.
  HOSTESS. Nay, that 'a did not.
  BOY. Yes, that 'a did, and said they were devils incarnate.
  HOSTESS. 'A could never abide carnation; 'twas a colour he never
    liked.
  BOY. 'A said once the devil would have him about women.
  HOSTESS. 'A did in some sort, indeed, handle women; but then he was
    rheumatic, and talk'd of the Whore of Babylon.
  BOY. Do you not remember 'a saw a flea stick upon Bardolph's nose,
    and 'a said it was a black soul burning in hell?
  BARDOLPH. Well, the fuel is gone that maintain'd that fire: that's
    all the riches I got in his service.
  NYM. Shall we shog? The King will be gone from Southampton.
  PISTOL. Come, let's away. My love, give me thy lips.
    Look to my chattles and my moveables;
    Let senses rule. The word is 'Pitch and Pay.'
    Trust none;
    For oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer-cakes,
    And Holdfast is the only dog, my duck.
    Therefore, Caveto be thy counsellor.
    Go, clear thy crystals. Yoke-fellows in arms,
    Let us to France, like horse-leeches, my boys,
    To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck.
  BOY. And that's but unwholesome food, they say.
  PISTOL. Touch her soft mouth and march.
  BARDOLPH. Farewell, hostess.                     [Kissing her]
  NYM. I cannot kiss, that is the humour of it; but adieu.
  PISTOL. Let housewifery appear; keep close, I thee command.
  HOSTESS. Farewell; adieu.                               Exeunt




SCENE IV.
France. The KING'S palace

Flourish. Enter the FRENCH KING, the DAUPHIN, the DUKES OF BERRI
and BRITAINE, the CONSTABLE, and others

  FRENCH KING. Thus comes the English with full power upon us;
    And more than carefully it us concerns
    To answer royally in our defences.
    Therefore the Dukes of Berri and of Britaine,
    Of Brabant and of Orleans, shall make forth,
    And you, Prince Dauphin, with all swift dispatch,
    To line and new repair our towns of war
    With men of courage and with means defendant;
    For England his approaches makes as fierce
    As waters to the sucking of a gulf.
    It fits us, then, to be as provident
    As fear may teach us, out of late examples
    Left by the fatal and neglected English
    Upon our fields.
  DAUPHIN. My most redoubted father,
    It is most meet we arm us 'gainst the foe;
    For peace itself should not so dull a kingdom,
    Though war nor no known quarrel were in question,
    But that defences, musters, preparations,
    Should be maintain'd, assembled, and collected,
    As were a war in expectation.
    Therefore, I say, 'tis meet we all go forth
    To view the sick and feeble parts of France;
    And let us do it with no show of fear-
    No, with no more than if we heard that England
    Were busied with a Whitsun morris-dance;
    For, my good liege, she is so idly king'd,
    Her sceptre so fantastically borne
    By a vain, giddy, shallow, humorous youth,
    That fear attends her not.
  CONSTABLE. O peace, Prince Dauphin!
    You are too much mistaken in this king.
    Question your Grace the late ambassadors
    With what great state he heard their embassy,
    How well supplied with noble counsellors,
    How modest in exception, and withal
    How terrible in constant resolution,
    And you shall find his vanities forespent
    Were but the outside of the Roman Brutus,
    Covering discretion with a coat of folly;
    As gardeners do with ordure hide those roots
    That shall first spring and be most delicate.
  DAUPHIN. Well, 'tis not so, my Lord High Constable;
    But though we think it so, it is no matter.
    In cases of defence 'tis best to weigh
    The enemy more mighty than he seems;
    So the proportions of defence are fill'd;
    Which of a weak and niggardly projection
    Doth like a miser spoil his coat with scanting
    A little cloth.
  FRENCH KING. Think we King Harry strong;
    And, Princes, look you strongly arm to meet him.
    The kindred of him hath been flesh'd upon us;
    And he is bred out of that bloody strain
    That haunted us in our familiar paths.
    Witness our too much memorable shame
    When Cressy battle fatally was struck,
    And all our princes capdv'd by the hand
    Of that black name, Edward, Black Prince of Wales;
    Whiles that his mountain sire- on mountain standing,
    Up in the air, crown'd with the golden sun-
    Saw his heroical seed, and smil'd to see him,
    Mangle the work of nature, and deface
    The patterns that by God and by French fathers
    Had twenty years been made. This is a stern
    Of that victorious stock; and let us fear
    The native mightiness and fate of him.

                      Enter a MESSENGER

  MESSENGER. Ambassadors from Harry King of England
    Do crave admittance to your Majesty.
  FRENCH KING. We'll give them present audience. Go and bring them.
                              Exeunt MESSENGER and certain LORDS
    You see this chase is hotly followed, friends.
  DAUPHIN. Turn head and stop pursuit; for coward dogs
    Most spend their mouths when what they seem to threaten
    Runs far before them. Good my sovereign,
    Take up the English short, and let them know
    Of what a monarchy you are the head.
    Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin
    As self-neglecting.

               Re-enter LORDS, with EXETER and train

  FRENCH KING. From our brother of England?
  EXETER. From him, and thus he greets your Majesty:
    He wills you, in the name of God Almighty,
    That you divest yourself, and lay apart
    The borrowed glories that by gift of heaven,
    By law of nature and of nations, 'longs
    To him and to his heirs- namely, the crown,
    And all wide-stretched honours that pertain,
    By custom and the ordinance of times,
    Unto the crown of France. That you may know
    'Tis no sinister nor no awkward claim,
    Pick'd from the worm-holes of long-vanish'd days,
    Nor from the dust of old oblivion rak'd,
    He sends you this most memorable line,       [Gives a paper]
    In every branch truly demonstrative;
    Willing you overlook this pedigree.
    And when you find him evenly deriv'd
    From his most fam'd of famous ancestors,
    Edward the Third, he bids you then resign
    Your crown and kingdom, indirectly held
    From him, the native and true challenger.
  FRENCH KING. Or else what follows?
  EXETER. Bloody constraint; for if you hide the crown
    Even in your hearts, there will he rake for it.
    Therefore in fierce tempest is he coming,
    In thunder and in earthquake, like a Jove,
    That if requiring fail, he will compel;
    And bids you, in the bowels of the Lord,
    Deliver up the crown; and to take mercy
    On the poor souls for whom this hungry war
    Opens his vasty jaws; and on your head
    Turning the widows' tears, the orphans' cries,
    The dead men's blood, the privy maidens' groans,
    For husbands, fathers, and betrothed lovers,
    That shall be swallowed in this controversy.
    This is his claim, his threat'ning, and my message;
    Unless the Dauphin be in presence here,
    To whom expressly I bring greeting too.
  FRENCH KING. For us, we will consider of this further;
    To-morrow shall you bear our full intent
    Back to our brother of England.
  DAUPHIN. For the Dauphin:
    I stand here for him. What to him from England?
  EXETER. Scorn and defiance, slight regard, contempt,
    And anything that may not misbecome
    The mighty sender, doth he prize you at.
    Thus says my king: an if your father's Highness
    Do not, in grant of all demands at large,
    Sweeten the bitter mock you sent his Majesty,
    He'll call you to so hot an answer of it
    That caves and womby vaultages of France
    Shall chide your trespass and return your mock
    In second accent of his ordinance.
  DAUPHIN. Say, if my father render fair return,
    It is against my will; for I desire
    Nothing but odds with England. To that end,
    As matching to his youth and vanity,
    I did present him with the Paris balls.
  EXETER. He'll make your Paris Louvre shake for it,
    Were it the mistress court of mighty Europe;
    And be assur'd you'll find a difference,
    As we his subjects have in wonder found,
    Between the promise of his greener days
    And these he masters now. Now he weighs time
    Even to the utmost grain; that you shall read
    In your own losses, if he stay in France.
  FRENCH KING. To-morrow shall you know our mind at full.
  EXETER. Dispatch us with all speed, lest that our king
    Come here himself to question our delay;
    For he is footed in this land already.
  FRENCH KING. You shall be soon dispatch'd with fair conditions.
    A night is but small breath and little pause
    To answer matters of this consequence.      Flourish. Exeunt





ACT III. PROLOGUE.

Flourish. Enter CHORUS

  CHORUS. Thus with imagin'd wing our swift scene flies,
    In motion of no less celerity
    Than that of thought. Suppose that you have seen
    The well-appointed King at Hampton pier
    Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet
    With silken streamers the young Phorbus fanning.
    Play with your fancies; and in them behold
    Upon the hempen tackle ship-boys climbing;
    Hear the shrill whistle which doth order give
    To sounds confus'd; behold the threaden sails,
    Borne with th' invisible and creeping wind,
    Draw the huge bottoms through the furrowed sea,
    Breasting the lofty surge. O, do but think
    You stand upon the rivage and behold
    A city on th' inconstant billows dancing;
    For so appears this fleet majestical,
    Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, follow!
    Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy
    And leave your England as dead midnight still,
    Guarded with grandsires, babies, and old women,
    Either past or not arriv'd to pith and puissance;
    For who is he whose chin is but enrich'd
    With one appearing hair that will not follow
    These cull'd and choice-drawn cavaliers to France?
    Work, work your thoughts, and therein see a siege;
    Behold the ordnance on their carriages,
    With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur.
    Suppose th' ambassador from the French comes back;
    Tells Harry that the King doth offer him
    Katherine his daughter, and with her to dowry
    Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms.
    The offer likes not; and the nimble gunner
    With linstock now the devilish cannon touches,
                                   [Alarum, and chambers go off]
    And down goes an before them. Still be kind,
    And eke out our performance with your mind.             Exit





SCENE I.
France. Before Harfleur

Alarum. Enter the KING, EXETER, BEDFORD, GLOUCESTER,
and soldiers with scaling-ladders

  KING. Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
    Or close the wall up with our English dead.
    In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
    As modest stillness and humility;
    But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
    Then imitate the action of the tiger:
    Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
    Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
    Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
    Let it pry through the portage of the head
    Like the brass cannon: let the brow o'erwhelm it
    As fearfully as doth a galled rock
    O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
    Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
    Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide;
    Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit
    To his full height. On, on, you noblest English,
    Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof-
    Fathers that like so many Alexanders
    Have in these parts from morn till even fought,
    And sheath'd their swords for lack of argument.
    Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
    That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.
    Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
    And teach them how to war. And you, good yeomen,
    Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
    The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
    That you are worth your breeding- which I doubt not;
    For there is none of you so mean and base
    That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
    I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
    Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
    Follow your spirit; and upon this charge
    Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!'
                           [Exeunt. Alarum, and chambers go off]




SCENE II.
Before Harfleur

Enter NYM, BARDOLPH, PISTOL, and BOY

  BARDOLPH. On, on, on, on, on! to the breach, to the breach!
  NYM. Pray thee, Corporal, stay; the knocks are too hot, and for
    mine own part I have not a case of lives. The humour of it is too
    hot; that is the very plain-song of it.
  PISTOL. The plain-song is most just; for humours do abound:

        Knocks go and come; God's vassals drop and die;
                    And sword and shield
                    In bloody field
                 Doth win immortal fame.

  BOY. Would I were in an alehouse in London! I wouid give all my
    fame for a pot of ale and safety.
  PISTOL. And I:

               If wishes would prevail with me,
               My purpose should not fail with me,
                   But thither would I hie.

  BOY.             As duly, but not as truly,
                   As bird doth sing on bough.

                         Enter FLUELLEN

  FLUELLEN. Up to the breach, you dogs!
    Avaunt, you cullions!                 [Driving them forward]
  PISTOL. Be merciful, great duke, to men of mould.
    Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage;
    Abate thy rage, great duke.
    Good bawcock, bate thy rage. Use lenity, sweet chuck.
  NYM. These be good humours. Your honour wins bad humours.
                                              Exeunt all but BOY
  BOY. As young as I am, I have observ'd these three swashers. I am
    boy to them all three; but all they three, though they would
    serve me, could not be man to me; for indeed three such antics do
    not amount to a man. For Bardolph, he is white-liver'd and
    red-fac'd; by the means whereof 'a faces it out, but fights not.
    For Pistol, he hath a killing tongue and a quiet sword; by the
    means whereof 'a breaks words and keeps whole weapons. For Nym,
    he hath heard that men of few words are the best men, and
    therefore he scorns to say his prayers lest 'a should be thought
    a coward; but his few bad words are match'd with as few good
    deeds; for 'a never broke any man's head but his own, and that
    was against a post when he was drunk. They will steal anything,
    and call it purchase. Bardolph stole a lute-case, bore it twelve
    leagues, and sold it for three halfpence. Nym and Bardolph are
    sworn brothers in filching, and in Calais they stole a
    fire-shovel; I knew by that piece of service the men would carry
    coals. They would have me as familiar with men's pockets as their
    gloves or their handkerchers; which makes much against my
    manhood, if I should take from another's pocket to put into mine;
    for it is plain pocketing up of wrongs. I must leave them and
    seek some better service; their villainy goes against my weak
    stomach, and therefore I must cast it up.               Exit

                 Re-enter FLUELLEN, GOWER following

  GOWER. Captain Fluellen, you must come presently to the mines; the
    Duke of Gloucester would speak with you.
  FLUELLEN. To the mines! Tell you the Duke it is not so good to come
    to the mines; for, look you, the mines is not according to the
    disciplines of the war; the concavities of it is not sufficient.
    For, look you, th' athversary- you may discuss unto the Duke,
    look you- is digt himself four yard under the countermines; by
    Cheshu, I think 'a will plow up all, if there is not better
    directions.
  GOWER. The Duke of Gloucester, to whom the order of the siege is
    given, is altogether directed by an Irishman- a very vallant
    gentleman, i' faith.
  FLUELLEN. It is Captain Macmorris, is it not?
  GOWER. I think it be.
  FLUELLEN. By Cheshu, he is an ass, as in the world: I will verify
    as much in his beard; he has no more directions in the true
    disciplines of the wars, look you, of the Roman disciplines, than
    is a puppy-dog.

                 Enter MACMORRIS and CAPTAIN JAMY

  GOWER. Here 'a comes; and the Scots captain, Captain Jamy, with
    him.
  FLUELLEN. Captain Jamy is a marvellous falorous gentleman, that is
    certain, and of great expedition and knowledge in th' aunchient
    wars, upon my particular knowledge of his directions. By Cheshu,
    he will maintain his argument as well as any military man in the
    world, in the disciplines of the pristine wars of the Romans.
  JAMY. I say gud day, Captain Fluellen.
  FLUELLEN. God-den to your worship, good Captain James.
  GOWER. How now, Captain Macmorris! Have you quit the mines? Have
    the pioneers given o'er?
  MACMORRIS. By Chrish, la, tish ill done! The work ish give over,
    the trompet sound the retreat. By my hand, I swear, and my
    father's soul, the work ish ill done; it ish give over; I would
    have blowed up the town, so Chrish save me, la, in an hour. O,
    tish ill done, tish ill done; by my hand, tish ill done!
  FLUELLEN. Captain Macmorris, I beseech you now, will you voutsafe
    me, look you, a few disputations with you, as partly touching or
    concerning the disciplines of the war, the Roman wars, in the way
    of argument, look you, and friendly communication; partly to
    satisfy my opinion, and partly for the satisfaction, look you, of
    my mind, as touching the direction of the military discipline,
    that is the point.
  JAMY. It sall be vary gud, gud feith, gud captains bath; and I sall
    quit you with gud leve, as I may pick occasion; that sall I,
    marry.
  MACMORRIS. It is no time to discourse, so Chrish save me. The day
    is hot, and the weather, and the wars, and the King, and the
    Dukes; it is no time to discourse. The town is beseech'd, and the
    trumpet call us to the breach; and we talk and, be Chrish, do
    nothing. 'Tis shame for us all, so God sa' me, 'tis shame to
    stand still; it is shame, by my hand; and there is throats to be
    cut, and works to be done; and there ish nothing done, so Chrish
    sa' me, la.
  JAMY. By the mess, ere theise eyes of mine take themselves to
    slomber, ay'll de gud service, or I'll lig i' th' grund for it;
    ay, or go to death. And I'll pay't as valorously as I may, that
    sall I suerly do, that is the breff and the long. Marry, I wad
    full fain heard some question 'tween you tway.
  FLUELLEN. Captain Macmorris, I think, look you, under your
    correction, there is not many of your nation-
  MACMORRIS. Of my nation? What ish my nation? Ish a villain, and a
    bastard, and a knave, and a rascal. What ish my nation? Who talks
    of my nation?
  FLUELLEN. Look you, if you take the matter otherwise than is meant,
    Captain Macmorris, peradventure I shall think you do not use me
    with that affability as in discretion you ought to use me, look
    you; being as good a man as yourself, both in the disciplines of
    war and in the derivation of my birth, and in other
    particularities.
  MACMORRIS. I do not know you so good a man as myself; so
    Chrish save me, I will cut off your head.
  GOWER. Gentlemen both, you will mistake each other.
  JAMY. Ah! that's a foul fault.              [A parley sounded]
  GOWER. The town sounds a parley.
  FLUELLEN. Captain Macmorris, when there is more better opportunity
    to be required, look you, I will be so bold as to tell you I know
    the disciplines of war; and there is an end.          Exeunt




SCENE III.
Before the gates of Harfleur

Enter the GOVERNOR and some citizens on the walls.  Enter the KING
and all his train before the gates

  KING HENRY. How yet resolves the Governor of the town?
    This is the latest parle we will admit;
    Therefore to our best mercy give yourselves
    Or, like to men proud of destruction,
    Defy us to our worst; for, as I am a soldier,
    A name that in my thoughts becomes me best,
    If I begin the batt'ry once again,
    I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur
    Till in her ashes she lie buried.
    The gates of mercy shall be all shut up,
    And the flesh'd soldier, rough and hard of heart,
    In liberty of bloody hand shall range
    With conscience wide as hell, mowing like grass
    Your fresh fair virgins and your flow'ring infants.
    What is it then to me if impious war,
    Array'd in flames, like to the prince of fiends,
    Do, with his smirch'd complexion, all fell feats
    Enlink'd to waste and desolation?
    What is't to me when you yourselves are cause,
    If your pure maidens fall into the hand
    Of hot and forcing violation?
    What rein can hold licentious wickednes
    When down the hill he holds his fierce career?
    We may as bootless spend our vain command
    Upon th' enraged soldiers in their spoil,
    As send precepts to the Leviathan
    To come ashore. Therefore, you men of Harfleur,
    Take pity of your town and of your people
    Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command;
    Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace
    O'erblows the filthy and contagious clouds
    Of heady murder, spoil, and villainy.
    If not- why, in a moment look to see
    The blind and bloody with foul hand
    Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters;
    Your fathers taken by the silver beards,
    And their most reverend heads dash'd to the walls;
    Your naked infants spitted upon pikes,
    Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confus'd
    Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry
    At Herod's bloody-hunting slaughtermen.
    What say you? Will you yield, and this avoid?
    Or, guilty in defence, be thus destroy'd?
  GOVERNOR. Our expectation hath this day an end:
    The Dauphin, whom of succours we entreated,
    Returns us that his powers are yet not ready
    To raise so great a siege. Therefore, great King,
    We yield our town and lives to thy soft mercy.
    Enter our gates; dispose of us and ours;
    For we no longer are defensible.
  KING HENRY. Open your gates. [Exit GOVERNOR] Come, uncle Exeter,
    Go you and enter Harfleur; there remain,
    And fortify it strongly 'gainst the French;
    Use mercy to them all. For us, dear uncle,
    The winter coming on, and sickness growing
    Upon our soldiers, we will retire to Calais.
    To-night in Harfleur will we be your guest;
    To-morrow for the march are we addrest.
               [Flourish. The KING and his train enter the town]




SCENE IV.
Rouen. The FRENCH KING'S palace

Enter KATHERINE and ALICE

  KATHERINE. Alice, tu as ete en Angleterre, et tu parles bien le
    langage.
  ALICE. Un peu, madame.
  KATHERINE. Je te prie, m'enseignez; il faut que j'apprenne a
    parler. Comment appelez-vous la main en Anglais?
  ALICE. La main? Elle est appelee de hand.
  KATHERINE. De hand. Et les doigts?
  ALICE. Les doigts? Ma foi, j'oublie les doigts; mais je me
    souviendrai. Les doigts? Je pense qu'ils sont appeles de fingres;
    oui, de fingres.
  KATHERINE. La main, de hand; les doigts, de fingres. Je pense que
    je suis le bon ecolier; j'ai gagne deux mots d'Anglais vitement.
    Comment appelez-vous les ongles?
  ALICE. Les ongles? Nous les appelons de nails.
  KATHERINE. De nails. Ecoutez; dites-moi si je parle bien: de hand,
    de fingres, et de nails.
  ALICE. C'est bien dit, madame; il est fort bon Anglais.
  KATHERINE. Dites-moi l'Anglais pour le bras.
  ALICE. De arm, madame.
  KATHERINE. Et le coude?
  ALICE. D'elbow.
  KATHERINE. D'elbow. Je m'en fais la repetition de tous les mots que
    vous m'avez appris des a present.
  ALICE. Il est trop difficile, madame, comme je pense.
  KATHERINE. Excusez-moi, Alice; ecoutez: d'hand, de fingre, de
    nails, d'arma, de bilbow.
  ALICE. D'elbow, madame.
  KATHERINE. O Seigneur Dieu, je m'en oublie! D'elbow.
    Comment appelez-vous le col?
  ALICE. De nick, madame.
  KATHERINE. De nick. Et le menton?
  ALICE. De chin.
  KATHERINE. De sin. Le col, de nick; le menton, de sin.
  ALICE. Oui. Sauf votre honneur, en verite, vous prononcez les mots
    aussi droit que les natifs d'Angleterre.
  KATHERINE. Je ne doute point d'apprendre, par la grace de Dieu, et
    en peu de temps.
  ALICE. N'avez-vous pas deja oublie ce que je vous ai enseigne?
  KATHERINE. Non, je reciterai a vous promptement: d'hand, de fingre,
    de mails-
  ALICE. De nails, madame.
  KATHERINE. De nails, de arm, de ilbow.
  ALICE. Sauf votre honneur, d'elbow.
  KATHERINE. Ainsi dis-je; d'elbow, de nick, et de sin. Comment
    appelez-vous le pied et la robe?
  ALICE. Le foot, madame; et le count.
  KATHERINE. Le foot et le count. O Seigneur Dieu! ils sont mots de
    son mauvais, corruptible, gros, et impudique, et non pour les
    dames d'honneur d'user: je ne voudrais prononcer ces mots devant
    les seigneurs de France pour tout le monde. Foh! le foot et le
    count! Neanmoins, je reciterai une autre fois ma lecon ensemble:
    d'hand, de fingre, de nails, d'arm, d'elbow, de nick, de sin, de
    foot, le count.
  ALICE. Excellent, madame!
  KATHERINE. C'est assez pour une fois: allons-nous a diner.
                                                          Exeunt




SCENE V.
The FRENCH KING'S palace

Enter the KING OF FRANCE, the DAUPHIN, DUKE OF BRITAINE,
the CONSTABLE OF FRANCE, and others

  FRENCH KING. 'Tis certain he hath pass'd the river Somme.
  CONSTABLE. And if he be not fought withal, my lord,
    Let us not live in France; let us quit an,
    And give our vineyards to a barbarous people.
  DAUPHIN. O Dieu vivant! Shall a few sprays of us,
    The emptying of our fathers' luxury,
    Our scions, put in wild and savage stock,
    Spirt up so suddenly into the clouds,
    And overlook their grafters?
  BRITAINE. Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards!
    Mort Dieu, ma vie! if they march along
    Unfought withal, but I will sell my dukedom
    To buy a slobb'ry and a dirty farm
    In that nook-shotten isle of Albion.
  CONSTABLE. Dieu de batailles! where have they this mettle?
    Is not their climate foggy, raw, and dull;
    On whom, as in despite, the sun looks pale,
    Killing their fruit with frowns? Can sodden water,
    A drench for sur-rein'd jades, their barley-broth,
    Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat?
    And shall our quick blood, spirited with wine,
    Seem frosty? O, for honour of our land,
    Let us not hang like roping icicles
    Upon our houses' thatch, whiles a more frosty people
    Sweat drops of gallant youth in our rich fields-
    Poor we call them in their native lords!
  DAUPHIN. By faith and honour,
    Our madams mock at us and plainly say
    Our mettle is bred out, and they will give
    Their bodies to the lust of English youth
    To new-store France with bastard warriors.
  BRITAINE. They bid us to the English dancing-schools
    And teach lavoltas high and swift corantos,
    Saying our grace is only in our heels
    And that we are most lofty runaways.
  FRENCH KING. Where is Montjoy the herald? Speed him hence;
    Let him greet England with our sharp defiance.
    Up, Princes, and, with spirit of honour edged
    More sharper than your swords, hie to the field:
    Charles Delabreth, High Constable of France;
    You Dukes of Orleans, Bourbon, and of Berri,
    Alengon, Brabant, Bar, and Burgundy;
    Jaques Chatillon, Rambures, Vaudemont,
    Beaumont, Grandpre, Roussi, and Fauconbridge,
    Foix, Lestrake, Bouciqualt, and Charolois;
    High dukes, great princes, barons, lords, and knights,
    For your great seats now quit you of great shames.
    Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our land
    With pennons painted in the blood of Harfleur.
    Rush on his host as doth the melted snow
    Upon the valleys, whose low vassal seat
    The Alps doth spit and void his rheum upon;
    Go down upon him, you have power enough,
    And in a captive chariot into Rouen
    Bring him our prisoner.
  CONSTABLE. This becomes the great.
    Sorry am I his numbers are so few,
    His soldiers sick and famish'd in their march;
    For I am sure, when he shall see our army,
    He'll drop his heart into the sink of fear,
    And for achievement offer us his ransom.
  FRENCH KING. Therefore, Lord Constable, haste on Montjoy,
    And let him say to England that we send
    To know what willing ransom he will give.
    Prince Dauphin, you shall stay with us in Rouen.
  DAUPHIN. Not so, I do beseech your Majesty.
  FRENCH KING. Be patient, for you shall remain with us.
    Now forth, Lord Constable and Princes all,
    And quickly bring us word of England's fall.          Exeunt




SCENE VI.
The English camp in Picardy

Enter CAPTAINS, English and Welsh, GOWER and FLUELLEN

  GOWER. How now, Captain Fluellen! Come you from the bridge?
  FLUELLEN. I assure you there is very excellent services committed
    at the bridge.
  GOWER. Is the Duke of Exeter safe?
  FLUELLEN. The Duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as Agamemnon; and a
    man that I love and honour with my soul, and my heart, and my
    duty, and my live, and my living, and my uttermost power. He is
    not- God be praised and blessed!- any hurt in the world, but
    keeps the bridge most valiantly, with excellent discipline. There
    is an aunchient Lieutenant there at the bridge- I think in my
    very conscience he is as valiant a man as Mark Antony; and he is
    man of no estimation in the world; but I did see him do as
    gallant service.
  GOWER. What do you call him?
  FLUELLEN. He is call'd Aunchient Pistol.
  GOWER. I know him not.

                            Enter PISTOL

  FLUELLEN. Here is the man.
  PISTOL. Captain, I thee beseech to do me favours.
    The Duke of Exeter doth love thee well.
  FLUELLEN. Ay, I praise God; and I have merited some love at his
    hands.
  PISTOL. Bardolph, a soldier, firm and sound of heart,
    And of buxom valour, hath by cruel fate
    And giddy Fortune's furious fickle wheel,
    That goddess blind,
    That stands upon the rolling restless stone-
  FLUELLEN. By your patience, Aunchient Pistol. Fortune is painted
    blind, with a muffler afore her eyes, to signify to you that
    Fortune is blind; and she is painted also with a wheel, to
    signify to you, which is the moral of it, that she is turning,
    and inconstant, and mutability, and variation; and her foot, look
    you, is fixed upon a spherical stone, which rolls, and rolls, and
    rolls. In good truth, the poet makes a most excellent description
    of it: Fortune is an excellent moral.
  PISTOL. Fortune is Bardolph's foe, and frowns on him;
    For he hath stol'n a pax, and hanged must 'a be-
    A damned death!
    Let gallows gape for dog; let man go free,
    And let not hemp his windpipe suffocate.
    But Exeter hath given the doom of death
    For pax of little price.
    Therefore, go speak- the Duke will hear thy voice;
    And let not Bardolph's vital thread be cut
    With edge of penny cord and vile reproach.
    Speak, Captain, for his life, and I will thee requite.
  FLUELLEN. Aunchient Pistol, I do partly understand your meaning.
  PISTOL. Why then, rejoice therefore.
  FLUELLEN. Certainly, Aunchient, it is not a thing to rejoice at;
    for if, look you, he were my brother, I would desire the Duke to
    use his good pleasure, and put him to execution; for discipline
    ought to be used.
  PISTOL. Die and be damn'd! and figo for thy friendship!
  FLUELLEN. It is well.
  PISTOL. The fig of Spain!                                 Exit
  FLUELLEN. Very good.
  GOWER. Why, this is an arrant counterfeit rascal; I remember him
    now- a bawd, a cutpurse.
  FLUELLEN. I'll assure you, 'a utt'red as prave words at the pridge
    as you shall see in a summer's day. But it is very well; what he
    has spoke to me, that is well, I warrant you, when time is serve.
  GOWER. Why, 'tis a gull a fool a rogue, that now and then goes to
    the wars to grace himself, at his return into London, under the
    form of a soldier. And such fellows are perfect in the great
    commanders' names; and they will learn you by rote where services
    were done- at such and such a sconce, at such a breach, at such a
    convoy; who came off bravely, who was shot, who disgrac'd, what
    terms the enemy stood on; and this they con perfectly in the
    phrase of war, which they trick up with new-tuned oaths; and what
    a beard of the General's cut and a horrid suit of the camp will
    do among foaming bottles and ale-wash'd wits is wonderful to be
    thought on. But you must learn to know such slanders of the age,
    or else you may be marvellously mistook.
  FLUELLEN. I tell you what, Captain Gower, I do perceive he is not
    the man that he would gladly make show to the world he is; if I
    find a hole in his coat I will tell him my mind. [Drum within]
    Hark you, the King is coming; and I must speak with him from the
    pridge.

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

    God pless your Majesty!
  KING HENRY. How now, Fluellen! Cam'st thou from the bridge?
  FLUELLEN. Ay, so please your Majesty. The Duke of Exeter has very
    gallantly maintain'd the pridge; the French is gone off, look
    you, and there is gallant and most prave passages. Marry, th'
    athversary was have possession of the pridge; but he is enforced
    to retire, and the Duke of Exeter is master of the pridge; I can
    tell your Majesty the Duke is a prave man.
  KING HENRY. What men have you lost, Fluellen!
  FLUELLEN. The perdition of th' athversary hath been very great,
    reasonable great; marry, for my part, I think the Duke hath lost
    never a man, but one that is like to be executed for robbing a
    church- one Bardolph, if your Majesty know the man; his face is
    all bubukles, and whelks, and knobs, and flames o' fire; and his
    lips blows at his nose, and it is like a coal of fire, sometimes
    plue and sometimes red; but his nose is executed and his fire's
    out.
  KING HENRY. We would have all such offenders so cut off. And we
    give express charge that in our marches through the country there
    be nothing compell'd from the villages, nothing taken but paid
    for, none of the French upbraided or abused in disdainful
    language; for when lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom the
    gentler gamester is the soonest winner.

                        Tucket. Enter MONTJOY

  MONTJOY. You know me by my habit.
  KING HENRY. Well then, I know thee; what shall I know of thee?
  MONTJOY. My master's mind.
  KING HENRY. Unfold it.
  MONTJOY. Thus says my king. Say thou to Harry of England: Though we
    seem'd dead we did but sleep; advantage is a better soldier than
    rashness. Tell him we could have rebuk'd him at Harfleur, but
    that we thought not good to bruise an injury till it were full
    ripe. Now we speak upon our cue, and our voice is imperial:
    England shall repent his folly, see his weakness, and admire our
    sufferance. Bid him therefore consider of his ransom, which must
    proportion the losses we have borne, the subjects we have lost,
    the disgrace we have digested; which, in weight to re-answer, his
    pettiness would bow under. For our losses his exchequer is too
    poor; for th' effusion of our blood, the muster of his kingdom
    too faint a number; and for our disgrace, his own person kneeling
    at our feet but a weak and worthless satisfaction. To this add
    defiance; and tell him, for conclusion, he hath betrayed his
    followers, whose condemnation is pronounc'd. So far my king and
    master; so much my office.
  KING HENRY. What is thy name? I know thy quality.
  MONTJOY. Montjoy.
  KING HENRY. Thou dost thy office fairly. Turn thee back,
    And tell thy king I do not seek him now,
    But could be willing to march on to Calais
    Without impeachment; for, to say the sooth-
    Though 'tis no wisdom to confess so much
    Unto an enemy of craft and vantage-
    My people are with sickness much enfeebled;
    My numbers lessen'd; and those few I have
    Almost no better than so many French;
    Who when they were in health, I tell thee, herald,
    I thought upon one pair of English legs
    Did march three Frenchmen. Yet forgive me, God,
    That I do brag thus; this your air of France
    Hath blown that vice in me; I must repent.
    Go, therefore, tell thy master here I am;
    My ransom is this frail and worthless trunk;
    My army but a weak and sickly guard;
    Yet, God before, tell him we will come on,
    Though France himself and such another neighbour
    Stand in our way. There's for thy labour, Montjoy.
    Go, bid thy master well advise himself.
    If we may pass, we will; if we be hind'red,
    We shall your tawny ground with your red blood
    Discolour; and so, Montjoy, fare you well.
    The sum of all our answer is but this:
    We would not seek a battle as we are;
    Nor as we are, we say, we will not shun it.
    So tell your master.
  MONTJOY. I shall deliver so. Thanks to your Highness.     Exit
  GLOUCESTER. I hope they will not come upon us now.
  KING HENRY. We are in God's hand, brother, not in theirs.
    March to the bridge, it now draws toward night;
    Beyond the river we'll encamp ourselves,
    And on to-morrow bid them march away.                 Exeunt




SCENE VII.
The French camp near Agincourt

Enter the CONSTABLE OF FRANCE, the LORD RAMBURES, the DUKE OF ORLEANS,
the DAUPHIN, with others

  CONSTABLE. Tut! I have the best armour of the world.
    Would it were day!
  ORLEANS. You have an excellent armour; but let my horse have his
    due.
  CONSTABLE. It is the best horse of Europe.
  ORLEANS. Will it never be morning?
  DAUPHIN. My Lord of Orleans and my Lord High Constable, you talk of
    horse and armour?
  ORLEANS. You are as well provided of both as any prince in the
    world.
  DAUPHIN. What a long night is this! I will not change my horse with
    any that treads but on four pasterns. Ca, ha! he bounds from the
    earth as if his entrails were hairs; le cheval volant, the
    Pegasus, chez les narines de feu! When I bestride him I soar, I
    am a hawk. He trots the air; the earth sings when he touches it;
    the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of
    Hermes.
  ORLEANS. He's of the colour of the nutmeg.
  DAUPHIN. And of the heat of the ginger. It is a beast for Perseus:
    he is pure air and fire; and the dull elements of earth and water
    never appear in him, but only in patient stillness while his
    rider mounts him; he is indeed a horse, and all other jades you
    may call beasts.
  CONSTABLE. Indeed, my lord, it is a most absolute and excellent
    horse.
  DAUPHIN. It is the prince of palfreys; his neigh is like the
    bidding of a monarch, and his countenance enforces homage.
  ORLEANS. No more, cousin.
  DAUPHIN. Nay, the man hath no wit that cannot, from the rising of
    the lark to the lodging of the lamb, vary deserved praise on my
    palfrey. It is a theme as fluent as the sea: turn the sands into
    eloquent tongues, and my horse is argument for them all: 'tis a
    subject for a sovereign to reason on, and for a sovereign's
    sovereign to ride on; and for the world- familiar to us and
    unknown- to lay apart their particular functions and wonder at
    him. I once writ a sonnet in his praise and began thus: 'Wonder
    of nature'-
  ORLEANS. I have heard a sonnet begin so to one's mistress.
  DAUPHIN. Then did they imitate that which I compos'd to my courser;
    for my horse is my mistress.
  ORLEANS. Your mistress bears well.
  DAUPHIN. Me well; which is the prescript praise and perfection of a
    good and particular mistress.
  CONSTABLE. Nay, for methought yesterday your mistress shrewdly
    shook your back.
  DAUPHIN. So perhaps did yours.
  CONSTABLE. Mine was not bridled.
  DAUPHIN. O, then belike she was old and gentle; and you rode like a
    kern of Ireland, your French hose off and in your strait
    strossers.
  CONSTABLE. You have good judgment in horsemanship.
  DAUPHIN. Be warn'd by me, then: they that ride so, and ride not
    warily, fall into foul bogs. I had rather have my horse to my
    mistress.
  CONSTABLE. I had as lief have my mistress a jade.
  DAUPHIN. I tell thee, Constable, my mistress wears his own hair.
  CONSTABLE. I could make as true a boast as that, if I had a sow to
    my mistress.
  DAUPHIN. 'Le chien est retourne a son propre vomissement, et la
    truie lavee au bourbier.' Thou mak'st use of anything.
  CONSTABLE. Yet do I not use my horse for my mistress, or any such
    proverb so little kin to the purpose.
  RAMBURES. My Lord Constable, the armour that I saw in your tent
    to-night- are those stars or suns upon it?
  CONSTABLE. Stars, my lord.
  DAUPHIN. Some of them will fall to-morrow, I hope.
  CONSTABLE. And yet my sky shall not want.
  DAUPHIN. That may be, for you bear a many superfluously, and 'twere
    more honour some were away.
  CONSTABLE. Ev'n as your horse bears your praises, who would trot as
    well were some of your brags dismounted.
  DAUPHIN. Would I were able to load him with his desert! Will it
    never be day? I will trot to-morrow a mile, and my way shall be
    paved with English faces.
  CONSTABLE. I will not say so, for fear I should be fac'd out of my
    way; but I would it were morning, for I would fain be about the
    ears of the English.
  RAMBURES. Who will go to hazard with me for twenty prisoners?
  CONSTABLE. You must first go yourself to hazard ere you have them.
  DAUPHIN. 'Tis midnight; I'll go arm myself.               Exit
  ORLEANS. The Dauphin longs for morning.
  RAMBURES. He longs to eat the English.
  CONSTABLE. I think he will eat all he kills.
  ORLEANS. By the white hand of my lady, he's a gallant prince.
  CONSTABLE. Swear by her foot, that she may tread out the oath.
  ORLEANS. He is simply the most active gentleman of France.
  CONSTABLE. Doing is activity, and he will still be doing.
  ORLEANS. He never did harm that I heard of.
  CONSTABLE. Nor will do none to-morrow: he will keep that good name
    still.
  ORLEANS. I know him to be valiant.
  CONSTABLE. I was told that by one that knows him better than you.
  ORLEANS. What's he?
  CONSTABLE. Marry, he told me so himself; and he said he car'd not
    who knew it.
  ORLEANS. He needs not; it is no hidden virtue in him.
  CONSTABLE. By my faith, sir, but it is; never anybody saw it but
      his lackey.
    'Tis a hooded valour, and when it appears it will bate.
  ORLEANS. Ill-wind never said well.
  CONSTABLE. I will cap that proverb with 'There is flattery in
    friendship.'
  ORLEANS. And I will take up that with 'Give the devil his due.'
  CONSTABLE. Well plac'd! There stands your friend for the devil;
    have at the very eye of that proverb with 'A pox of the devil!'
  ORLEANS. You are the better at proverbs by how much 'A fool's bolt
    is soon shot.'
  CONSTABLE. You have shot over.
  ORLEANS. 'Tis not the first time you were overshot.

                          Enter a MESSENGER

  MESSENGER. My Lord High Constable, the English lie within fifteen
    hundred paces of your tents.
  CONSTABLE. Who hath measur'd the ground?
  MESSENGER. The Lord Grandpre.
  CONSTABLE. A valiant and most expert gentleman. Would it were day!
    Alas, poor Harry of England! he longs not for the dawning as we
    do.
  ORLEANS. What a wretched and peevish fellow is this King of
    England, to mope with his fat-brain'd followers so far out of his
    knowledge!
  CONSTABLE. If the English had any apprehension, they would run
    away.
  ORLEANS. That they lack; for if their heads had any intellectual
    armour, they could never wear such heavy head-pieces.
  RAMBURES. That island of England breeds very valiant creatures;
    their mastiffs are of unmatchable courage.
  ORLEANS. Foolish curs, that run winking into the mouth of a Russian
    bear, and have their heads crush'd like rotten apples! You may as
    well say that's a valiant flea that dare eat his breakfast on the
    lip of a lion.
  CONSTABLE. Just, just! and the men do sympathise with the mastiffs
    in robustious and rough coming on, leaving their wits with their
    wives; and then give them great meals of beef and iron and steel;
    they will eat like wolves and fight like devils.
  ORLEANS. Ay, but these English are shrewdly out of beef.
  CONSTABLE. Then shall we find to-morrow they have only stomachs to
    eat, and none to fight. Now is it time to arm. Come, shall we
    about it?
  ORLEANS. It is now two o'clock; but let me see- by ten
    We shall have each a hundred Englishmen.              Exeunt





ACT IV. PROLOGUE.

Enter CHORUS

  CHORUS. Now entertain conjecture of a time
    When creeping murmur and the poring dark
    Fills the wide vessel of the universe.
    From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night,
    The hum of either army stilly sounds,
    That the fix'd sentinels almost receive
    The secret whispers of each other's watch.
    Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames
    Each battle sees the other's umber'd face;
    Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs
    Piercing the night's dull ear; and from the tents
    The armourers accomplishing the knights,
    With busy hammers closing rivets up,
    Give dreadful note of preparation.
    The country cocks do crow, the clocks do ton,
    And the third hour of drowsy morning name.
    Proud of their numbers and secure in soul,
    The confident and over-lusty French
    Do the low-rated English play at dice;
    And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night
    Who like a foul and ugly witch doth limp
    So tediously away. The poor condemned English,
    Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires
    Sit patiently and inly ruminate
    The morning's danger; and their gesture sad
    Investing lank-lean cheeks and war-worn coats
    Presenteth them unto the gazing moon
    So many horrid ghosts. O, now, who will behold
    The royal captain of this ruin'd band
    Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent,
    Let him cry 'Praise and glory on his head!'
    For forth he goes and visits all his host;
    Bids them good morrow with a modest smile,
    And calls them brothers, friends, and countrymen.
    Upon his royal face there is no note
    How dread an army hath enrounded him;
    Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour
    Unto the weary and all-watched night;
    But freshly looks, and over-bears attaint
    With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty;
    That every wretch, pining and pale before,
    Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks;
    A largess universal, like the sun,
    His liberal eye doth give to every one,
    Thawing cold fear, that mean and gentle all
    Behold, as may unworthiness define,
    A little touch of Harry in the night.
    And so our scene must to the battle fly;
    Where- O for pity!- we shall much disgrace
    With four or five most vile and ragged foils,
    Right ill-dispos'd in brawl ridiculous,
    The name of Agincourt. Yet sit and see,
    Minding true things by what their mock'ries be.         Exit




SCENE I.
France. The English camp at Agincourt

Enter the KING, BEDFORD, and GLOUCESTER

  KING HENRY. Gloucester, 'tis true that we are in great danger;
    The greater therefore should our courage be.
    Good morrow, brother Bedford. God Almighty!
    There is some soul of goodness in things evil,
    Would men observingly distil it out;
    For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers,
    Which is both healthful and good husbandry.
    Besides, they are our outward consciences
    And preachers to us all, admonishing
    That we should dress us fairly for our end.
    Thus may we gather honey from the weed,
    And make a moral of the devil himself.

                        Enter ERPINGHAM

    Good morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpingham:
    A good soft pillow for that good white head
    Were better than a churlish turf of France.
  ERPINGHAM. Not so, my liege; this lodging likes me better,
    Since I may say 'Now lie I like a king.'
  KING HENRY. 'Tis good for men to love their present pains
    Upon example; so the spirit is eased;
    And when the mind is quick'ned, out of doubt
    The organs, though defunct and dead before,
    Break up their drowsy grave and newly move
    With casted slough and fresh legerity.
    Lend me thy cloak, Sir Thomas. Brothers both,
    Commend me to the princes in our camp;
    Do my good morrow to them, and anon
    Desire them all to my pavilion.
  GLOUCESTER. We shall, my liege.
  ERPINGHAM. Shall I attend your Grace?
  KING HENRY. No, my good knight:
    Go with my brothers to my lords of England;
    I and my bosom must debate awhile,
    And then I would no other company.
  ERPINGHAM. The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble Harry!
                                         Exeunt all but the KING
  KING HENRY. God-a-mercy, old heart! thou speak'st cheerfully.

                          Enter PISTOL

  PISTOL. Qui va la?
  KING HENRY. A friend.
  PISTOL. Discuss unto me: art thou officer,
    Or art thou base, common, and popular?
  KING HENRY. I am a gentleman of a company.
  PISTOL. Trail'st thou the puissant pike?
  KING HENRY. Even so. What are you?
  PISTOL. As good a gentleman as the Emperor.
  KING HENRY. Then you are a better than the King.
  PISTOL. The King's a bawcock and a heart of gold,
    A lad of life, an imp of fame;
    Of parents good, of fist most valiant.
    I kiss his dirty shoe, and from heart-string
    I love the lovely bully. What is thy name?
  KING HENRY. Harry le Roy.
  PISTOL. Le Roy! a Cornish name; art thou of Cornish crew?
  KING HENRY. No, I am a Welshman.
  PISTOL. Know'st thou Fluellen?
  KING HENRY. Yes.
  PISTOL. Tell him I'll knock his leek about his pate
    Upon Saint Davy's day.
  KING HENRY. Do not you wear your dagger in your cap that day, lest
    he knock that about yours.
  PISTOL. Art thou his friend?
  KING HENRY. And his kinsman too.
  PISTOL. The figo for thee, then!
  KING HENRY. I thank you; God be with you!
  PISTOL. My name is Pistol call'd.                         Exit
  KING HENRY. It sorts well with your fierceness.

                    Enter FLUELLEN and GOWER

  GOWER. Captain Fluellen!
  FLUELLEN. So! in the name of Jesu Christ, speak fewer. It is the
    greatest admiration in the universal world, when the true and
    aunchient prerogatifes and laws of the wars is not kept: if you
    would take the pains but to examine the wars of Pompey the Great,
    you shall find, I warrant you, that there is no tiddle-taddle nor
    pibble-pabble in Pompey's camp; I warrant you, you shall find the
    ceremonies of the wars, and the cares of it, and the forms of it,
    and the sobriety of it, and the modesty of it, to be otherwise.
  GOWER. Why, the enemy is loud; you hear him all night.
  FLUELLEN. If the enemy is an ass, and a fool, and a prating
    coxcomb, is it meet, think you, that we should also, look you, be
    an ass, and a fool, and a prating coxcomb? In your own
    conscience, now?
  GOWER. I will speak lower.
  FLUELLEN. I pray you and beseech you that you will.
                                       Exeunt GOWER and FLUELLEN
  KING HENRY. Though it appear a little out of fashion,
    There is much care and valour in this Welshman.

          Enter three soldiers: JOHN BATES, ALEXANDER COURT,
                       and MICHAEL WILLIAMS

  COURT. Brother John Bates, is not that the morning which breaks
    yonder?
  BATES. I think it be; but we have no great cause to desire the
    approach of day.
  WILLIAMS. We see yonder the beginning of the day, but I think we
    shall never see the end of it. Who goes there?
  KING HENRY. A friend.
  WILLIAMS. Under what captain serve you?
  KING HENRY. Under Sir Thomas Erpingham.
  WILLIAMS. A good old commander and a most kind gentleman. I pray
    you, what thinks he of our estate?
  KING HENRY. Even as men wreck'd upon a sand, that look to be wash'd
    off the next tide.
  BATES. He hath not told his thought to the King?
  KING HENRY. No; nor it is not meet he should. For though I speak it
    to you, I think the King is but a man as I am: the violet smells
    to him as it doth to me; the element shows to him as it doth to
    me; all his senses have but human conditions; his ceremonies laid
    by, in his nakedness he appears but a man; and though his
    affections are higher mounted than ours, yet, when they stoop,
    they stoop with the like wing. Therefore, when he sees reason of
    fears, as we do, his fears, out of doubt, be of the same relish
    as ours are; yet, in reason, no man should possess him with any
    appearance of fear, lest he, by showing it, should dishearten his
    army.
  BATES. He may show what outward courage he will; but I believe, as
    cold a night as 'tis, he could wish himself in Thames up to the
    neck; and so I would he were, and I by him, at all adventures, so
    we were quit here.
  KING HENRY. By my troth, I will speak my conscience of the King: I
    think he would not wish himself anywhere but where he is.
  BATES. Then I would he were here alone; so should he be sure to be
    ransomed, and a many poor men's lives saved.
  KING HENRY. I dare say you love him not so ill to wish him here
    alone, howsoever you speak this, to feel other men's minds;
    methinks I could not die anywhere so contented as in the King's
    company, his cause being just and his quarrel honourable.
  WILLIAMS. That's more than we know.
  BATES. Ay, or more than we should seek after; for we know enough if
    we know we are the King's subjects. If his cause be wrong, our
    obedience to the King wipes the crime of it out of us.
  WILLIAMS. But if the cause be not good, the King himself hath a
    heavy reckoning to make when all those legs and arms and heads,
    chopp'd off in a battle, shall join together at the latter day
    and cry all 'We died at such a place'- some swearing, some crying
    for a surgeon, some upon their wives left poor behind them, some
    upon the debts they owe, some upon their children rawly left. I
    am afeard there are few die well that die in a battle; for how
    can they charitably dispose of anything when blood is their
    argument? Now, if these men do not die well, it will be a black
    matter for the King that led them to it; who to disobey were
    against all proportion of subjection.
  KING HENRY. So, if a son that is by his father sent about
    merchandise do sinfully miscarry upon the sea, the imputation of
    his wickedness, by your rule, should be imposed upon his father
    that sent him; or if a servant, under his master's command
    transporting a sum of money, be assailed by robbers and die in
    many irreconcil'd iniquities, you may call the business of the
    master the author of the servant's damnation. But this is not so:
    the King is not bound to answer the particular endings of his
    soldiers, the father of his son, nor the master of his servant;
    for they purpose not their death when they purpose their
    services. Besides, there is no king, be his cause never so
    spotless, if it come to the arbitrement of swords, can try it out
    with all unspotted soldiers: some peradventure have on them the
    guilt of premeditated and contrived murder; some, of beguiling
    virgins with the broken seals of perjury; some, making the wars
    their bulwark, that have before gored the gentle bosom of peace
    with pillage and robbery. Now, if these men have defeated the law
    and outrun native punishment, though they can outstrip men they
    have no wings to fly from God: war is His beadle, war is His
    vengeance; so that here men are punish'd for before-breach of the
    King's laws in now the King's quarrel. Where they feared the
    death they have borne life away; and where they would be safe
    they perish. Then if they die unprovided, no more is the King
    guilty of their damnation than he was before guilty of those
    impieties for the which they are now visited. Every subject's
    duty is the King's; but every subject's soul is his own.
    Therefore should every soldier in the wars do as every sick man
    in his bed- wash every mote out of his conscience; and dying so,
    death is to him advantage; or not dying, the time was blessedly
    lost wherein such preparation was gained; and in him that escapes
    it were not sin to think that, making God so free an offer, He
    let him outlive that day to see His greatness, and to teach
    others how they should prepare.
  WILLIAMS. 'Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the ill upon his
    own head- the King is not to answer for it.
  BATES. I do not desire he should answer for me, and yet I determine
    to fight lustily for him.
  KING HENRY. I myself heard the King say he would not be ransom'd.
  WILLIAMS. Ay, he said so, to make us fight cheerfully; but when our
    throats are cut he may be ransom'd, and we ne'er the wiser.
  KING HENRY. If I live to see it, I will never trust his word after.
  WILLIAMS. You pay him then! That's a perilous shot out of an
    elder-gun, that a poor and a private displeasure can do against a
    monarch! You may as well go about to turn the sun to ice with
    fanning in his face with a peacock's feather. You'll never trust
    his word after! Come, 'tis a foolish saying.
  KING HENRY. Your reproof is something too round; I should be angry
    with you, if the time were convenient.
  WILLIAMS. Let it be a quarrel between us if you live.
  KING HENRY. I embrace it.
  WILLIAMS. How shall I know thee again?
  KING HENRY. Give me any gage of thine, and I will wear it in my
    bonnet; then if ever thou dar'st acknowledge it, I will make it
    my quarrel.
  WILLIAMS. Here's my glove; give me another of thine.
  KING HENRY. There.
  WILLIAMS. This will I also wear in my cap; if ever thou come to me
    and say, after to-morrow, 'This is my glove,' by this hand I will
    take thee a box on the ear.
  KING HENRY. If ever I live to see it, I will challenge it.
  WILLIAMS. Thou dar'st as well be hang'd.
  KING HENRY. Well, I will do it, though I take thee in the King's
    company.
  WILLIAMS. Keep thy word. Fare thee well.
  BATES. Be friends, you English fools, be friends; we have
    French quarrels enow, if you could tell how to reckon.
  KING HENRY. Indeed, the French may lay twenty French crowns to one
    they will beat us, for they bear them on their shoulders; but it
    is no English treason to cut French crowns, and to-morrow the
    King himself will be a clipper.
                                                 Exeunt soldiers
    Upon the King! Let us our lives, our souls,
    Our debts, our careful wives,
    Our children, and our sins, lay on the King!
    We must bear all. O hard condition,
    Twin-born with greatness, subject to the breath
    Of every fool, whose sense no more can feel
    But his own wringing! What infinite heart's ease
    Must kings neglect that private men enjoy!
    And what have kings that privates have not too,
    Save ceremony- save general ceremony?
    And what art thou, thou i