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
