[Exeunt.]



SCENE III. The English camp.

[Enter Gloucester, Bedford, Exeter, Erpingham, with all his host:
Salisbury and Westmoreland.]

GLOUCESTER.
Where is the King?

BEDFORD.
The King himself is rode to view their battle.

WESTMORELAND.
Of fighting men they have full three-score thousand.

EXETER.
There's five to one; besides, they all are fresh.

SALISBURY.
God's arm strike with us! 'tis a fearful odds.
God be wi' you, princes all; I'll to my charge.
If we no more meet till we meet in heaven,
Then, joyfully, my noble Lord of Bedford,
My dear Lord Gloucester, and my good Lord Exeter,
And my kind kinsman, warriors all, adieu!

BEDFORD.
Farewell, good Salisbury, and good luck go with thee!

EXETER.
Farewell, kind lord; fight valiantly to-day!
And yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it,
For thou art fram'd of the firm truth of valour.

[Exit Salisbury.]

BEDFORD.
He is as full of valour as of kindness,
Princely in both.

[Enter the King.]

WESTMORELAND.
O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England
That do no work to-day!

KING. 
What's he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin.
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires;
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more, methinks, would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart.  His passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse.
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is call'd the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say, "To-morrow is Saint Crispian."
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say, "These wounds I had on Crispian's day."
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words,
Harry the King, Bedford, and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered,
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers.
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

[Re-enter Salisbury.]

SALISBURY. 
My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with speed.
The French are bravely in their battles set,
And will with all expedience charge on us.

KING HENRY.
All things are ready, if our minds be so.

WESTMORELAND.
Perish the man whose mind is backward now!

KING HENRY.
Thou dost not wish more help from England, coz?

WESTMORELAND.
God's will! my liege, would you and I alone,
Without more help, could fight this royal battle!

KING HENRY.
Why, now thou hast unwish'd five thousand men,
Which likes me better than to wish us one.
You know your places. God be with you all!

[Tucket. Enter Montjoy.]

MONTJOY.
Once more I come to know of thee, King Harry,
If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound,
Before thy most assured overthrow;
For certainly thou art so near the gulf,
Thou needs must be englutted. Besides, in mercy,
The Constable desires thee thou wilt mind
Thy followers of repentance; that their souls
May make a peaceful and a sweet retire
From off these fields, where, wretches, their poor bodies
Must lie and fester.

KING HENRY.
Who hath sent thee now?

MONTJOY.
The Constable of France.

KING HENRY.
I pray thee, bear my former answer back:
Bid them achieve me and then sell my bones.
Good God! why should they mock poor fellows thus?
The man that once did sell the lion's skin
While the beast liv'd, was kill'd with hunting him.
A many of our bodies shall no doubt
Find native graves, upon the which, I trust,
Shall witness live in brass of this day's work;
And those that leave their valiant bones in France,
Dying like men, though buried in your dunghills,
They shall be fam'd; for there the sun shall greet them,
And draw their honours reeking up to heaven;
Leaving their earthly parts to choke your clime,
The smell whereof shall breed a plague in France.
Mark then abounding valour in our English,
That being dead, like to the bullet's grazing,
Break out into a second course of mischief,
Killing in relapse of mortality.
Let me speak proudly: tell the Constable
We are but warriors for the working-day.
Our gayness and our gilt are all besmirch'd
With rainy marching in the painful field;
There's not a piece of feather in our host--
Good argument, I hope, we will not fly--
And time hath worn us into slovenry;
But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim;
And my poor soldiers tell me, yet ere night
They'll be in fresher robes, or they will pluck
The gay new coats o'er the French soldiers' heads
And turn them out of service. If they do this--
As, if God please, they shall,--my ransom then
Will soon be levied. Herald, save thou thy labour.
Come thou no more for ransom, gentle herald.
They shall have none, I swear, but these my joints;
Which if they have as I will leave 'em them,
Shall yield them little, tell the Constable.

MONTJOY.
I shall, King Harry. And so fare thee well;
Thou never shalt hear herald any more.

[Exit.]

KING HENRY.
I fear thou'lt once more come again for ransom.

[Enter York.]

YORK. 
My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg
The leading of the vaward.

KING HENRY.
Take it, brave York. Now, soldiers, march away;
And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day!

[Exeunt.]



SCENE IV. The field of battle.

[Alarum.  Excursions.  Enter Pistol, French Soldier, and Boy.]

PISTOL.
Yield, cur!

FRENCH SOLDIER.
Je pense que vous etes le gentilhomme de bonne qualite.

PISTOL.
Qualitie calmie custure me! Art thou a gentleman?
What is thy name? Discuss.

FRENCH SOLDIER.
O Seigneur Dieu!

PISTOL.
O, Signieur Dew should be a gentleman.
Perpend my words, O Signieur Dew, and mark:
O Signieur Dew, thou diest on point of fox,
Except, O signieur, thou do give to me
Egregious ransom.

FRENCH SOLDIER.
O, prenez misericorde! ayez pitie de moi!

PISTOL.
Moy shall not serve; I will have forty moys,
Or I will fetch thy rim out at thy throat
In drops of crimson blood.

FRENCH SOLDIER.
Est-il impossible d'echapper la force de ton bras?

PISTOL.
Brass, cur!
Thou damned and luxurious mountain goat,
Offer'st me brass?

FRENCH SOLDIER.
O pardonnez moi!

PISTOL.
Say'st thou me so? Is that a ton of moys?
Come hither, boy; ask me this slave in French
What is his name.

BOY.
Ecoutez: comment etes-vous appele?

FRENCH SOLDIER.
Monsieur le Fer.

BOY.
He says his name is Master Fer.

PISTOL.
Master Fer! I'll fer him, and firk him, and ferret him.
Discuss the same in French unto him.

BOY.
I do not know the French for fer, and ferret, and firk.

PISTOL.
Bid him prepare; for I will cut his throat.

FRENCH SOLDIER.
Que dit-il, monsieur?

BOY.
Il me commande a vous dire que vous faites vous pret; car
ce soldat ici est dispose tout a cette heure de couper votre
gorge.

PISTOL.
Owy, cuppele gorge, permafoy,
Peasant, unless thou give me crowns, brave crowns;
Or mangled shalt thou be by this my sword.

FRENCH SOLDIER.
O, je vous supplie, pour l'amour de Dieu, me pardonner! 
Je suis gentilhomme de bonne maison; gardez ma vie, et 
je vous donnerai deux cents ecus.

PISTOL.
What are his words?

BOY.
He prays you to save his life.  He is a gentleman of a good
house; and for his ransom he will give you two hundred
crowns.

PISTOL.
Tell him my fury shall abate, and I
The crowns will take.

FRENCH SOLDIER.
Petit monsieur, que dit-il?

BOY.
Encore qu'il est contre son jurement de pardonner aucun
prisonnier; neanmoins, pour les ecus que vous l'avez promis, il
est content de vous donner la liberte, le franchisement.

FRENCH SOLDIER.
Sur mes genoux je vous donne mille remercimens; et je m'estime 
heureux que je suis tombe entre les mains d'un chevalier, je
pense, le plus brave, vaillant, et tres distingue seigneur
d'Angleterre.

PISTOL.
Expound unto me, boy.

BOY.
He gives you upon his knees, a thousand thanks; and he esteems 
himself happy that he hath fallen into the hands of one, as he 
thinks, the most brave, valorous, and thrice-worthy signieur of
England.

PISTOL.
As I suck blood, I will some mercy show.
Follow me!                                             

[Exit.]

BOY.
Suivez-vous le grand capitaine.       

[Exeunt Pistol, and French Soldier.]

I did never know so full a voice issue from so empty a heart; but
the saying is true, "The empty vessel makes the greatest sound."
Bardolph and Nym had ten times more valour than this roaring
devil i' the old play, that every one may pare his nails with a
wooden dagger; and they are both hang'd; and so would this be, 
if he durst steal anything adventurously. I must stay with the
lackeys with the luggage of our camp. The French might have a
good prey of us, if he knew of it; for there is none to guard it
but boys.                                               

[Exit.]



SCENE V. Another part of the field.

[Enter Constable, Orleans, Bourbon, Dauphin, and Rambures.]

CONSTABLE.
O diable!

ORLEANS.
O Seigneur! le jour est perdu, tout est perdu!

DAUPHIN.
Mort de ma vie! all is confounded, all!
Reproach and everlasting shame
Sits mocking in our plumes.

[A short alarum.]

O mechante fortune! Do not run away.

CONSTABLE.
Why, all our ranks are broke.

DAUPHIN.
O perdurable shame! let's stab ourselves,
Be these the wretches that we play'd at dice for?

ORLEANS.
Is this the king we sent to for his ransom?

BOURBON.
Shame and eternal shame, nothing but shame!
Let's die in honour!  Once more back again!
And he that will not follow Bourbon now,
Let him go hence, and with his cap in hand,
Like a base pandar, hold the chamber door
Whilst by a slave, no gentler than my dog,
His fairest daughter is contaminated.

CONSTABLE.
Disorder, that hath spoil'd us, friend us now!
Let us on heaps go offer up our lives.

ORLEANS.
We are enow yet living in the field
To smother up the English in our throngs,
If any order might be thought upon.

BOURBON. 
The devil take order now! I'll to the throng.
Let life be short, else shame will be too long. 

[Exeunt.]



SCENE VI. Another part of the field.

[Alarum. Enter King Henry and his train, with prisoners.]

KING HENRY.
Well have we done, thrice valiant countrymen.
But all's not done; yet keep the French the field.

EXETER.
The Duke of York commends him to your Majesty.

KING HENRY.
Lives he, good uncle? Thrice within this hour
I saw him down; thrice up again, and fighting.
From helmet to the spur all blood he was.

EXETER.
In which array, brave soldier, doth he lie,
Larding the plain; and by his bloody side,
Yoke-fellow to his honour-owing wounds,
The noble Earl of Suffolk also lies.
Suffolk first died; and York, all haggled over,
Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteeped,
And takes him by the beard; kisses the gashes
That bloodily did yawn upon his face.
He cries aloud, "Tarry, my cousin Suffolk!
My soul shall thine keep company to heaven;
Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly abreast,
As in this glorious and well-foughten field
We kept together in our chivalry."
Upon these words I came and cheer'd him up.
He smil'd me in the face, raught me his hand,
And, with a feeble gripe, says, "Dear my lord,
Commend my service to my sovereign."
So did he turn and over Suffolk's neck
He threw his wounded arm and kiss'd his lips;
And so espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd
A testament of noble-ending love.
The pretty and sweet manner of it forc'd
Those waters from me which I would have stopp'd;
But I had not so much of man in me,
And all my mother came into mine eyes
And gave me up to tears.

KING HENRY.
I blame you not;
For, hearing this, I must perforce compound
With mistful eyes, or they will issue too.

[Alarum.]

But hark! what new alarum is this same?
The French have reinforc'd their scatter'd men.
Then every soldier kill his prisoners;
Give the word through.

[Exeunt.]



SCENE VII. Another part of the field.


[Enter Fluellen and Gower.]

FLUELLEN.
Kill the poys and the luggage! 'Tis expressly against the
law of arms. 'Tis as arrant a piece of knavery, mark you now, 
as can be offer't; in your conscience, now, is it not?

GOWER.
'Tis certain there's not a boy left alive; and the cowardly
rascals that ran from the battle ha' done this slaughter.
Besides, they have burned and carried away all that was in the
King's tent; wherefore the King, most worthily, hath caus'd every
soldier to cut his prisoner's throat. O, 'tis a gallant king!

FLUELLEN.
Ay, he was porn at Monmouth, Captain Gower. What call you
the town's name where Alexander the Pig was born?

GOWER.
Alexander the Great.

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

GOWER.
I think Alexander the Great was born in Macedon.  His father 
was called Philip of Macedon, as I take it.

FLUELLEN.
I think it is in Macedon where Alexander is porn. I tell you, 
Captain, if you look in the maps of the 'orld, I warrant you
sall find, in the comparisons between Macedon and Monmouth, 
that the situations, look you, is both alike. There is a river in
Macedon; and there is also moreover a river at Monmouth; it is
call'd Wye at Monmouth; but it is out of my prains what is the
name of the other river; but 'tis all one, 'tis alike as my fingers
is to my fingers, and there is salmons in both. If you mark
Alexander's life well, Harry of Monmouth's life is come after it
indifferent well; for there is figures in all things.  Alexander,
God knows, and you know, in his rages, and his furies, and his
wraths, and his cholers, and his moods, and his displeasures, and
his indignations, and also being a little intoxicates in his prains,
did, in his ales and his angers, look you, kill his best friend,
Cleitus.

GOWER.
Our King is not like him in that.  He never kill'd any of
his friends.

FLUELLEN.
It is not well done, mark you now, to take the tales out
of my mouth, ere it is made and finished. I speak but in the
figures and comparisons of it.  As Alexander kill'd his friend
Cleitus, being in his ales and his cups; so also Harry Monmouth,
being in his right wits and his good judgements, turn'd away the
fat knight with the great belly doublet.  He was full of jests,
and gipes, and knaveries, and mocks; I have forgot his name.

GOWER.
Sir John Falstaff.

FLUELLEN.
That is he. I'll tell you there is good men porn at Monmouth.

GOWER.
Here comes his Majesty.

[Alarum. Enter King Henry and [forces; Warwick, Gloucester,
Exeter, with prisoners. Flourish.]

KING HENRY.
I was not angry since I came to France
Until this instant. Take a trumpet, herald;
Ride thou unto the horsemen on yond hill.
If they will fight with us, bid them come down,
Or void the field; they do offend our sight.
If they'll do neither, we will come to them,
And make them skirr away, as swift as stones
Enforced from the old Assyrian slings.
Besides, we'll cut the throats of those we have,
And not a man of them that we shall take
Shall taste our mercy. Go and tell them so.

[Enter Montjoy.]

EXETER.
Here comes the herald of the French, my liege.

GLOUCESTER.
His eyes are humbler than they us'd to be.

KING HENRY.
How now! what means this, herald? Know'st thou not
That I have fin'd these bones of mine for ransom?
Com'st thou again for ransom?

MONTJOY.
No, great King;
I come to thee for charitable license,
That we may wander o'er this bloody field
To book our dead, and then to bury them;
To sort our nobles from our common men.
For many of our princes--woe the while!--
Lie drown'd and soak'd in mercenary blood;
So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbs
In blood of princes; and their wounded steeds
Fret fetlock deep in gore, and with wild rage
Yerk out their armed heels at their dead masters,
Killing them twice. O, give us leave, great King,
To view the field in safety, and dispose
Of their dead bodies!

KING HENRY.
I tell thee truly, herald,
I know not if the day be ours or no;
For yet a many of your horsemen peer
And gallop o'er the field.

MONTJOY.
The day is yours.

KING HENRY.
Praised be God, and not our strength, for it!
What is this castle call'd that stands hard by?

MONTJOY. 
They call it Agincourt.

KING HENRY.
Then call we this the field of Agincourt,
Fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus.

FLUELLEN.
Your grandfather of famous memory, an't please your
Majesty, and your great-uncle Edward the Plack Prince of 
Wales, as I have read in the chronicles, fought a most prave 
pattle here in France.

KING HENRY.
They did, Fluellen.

FLUELLEN.
Your Majesty says very true.  If your Majesties is rememb'red of
it, the Welshmen did good service in garden where leeks did grow,
wearing leeks in their Monmouth caps; which, your Majesty know, 
to this hour is an honourable badge of the service; and I do
believe your Majesty takes no scorn to wear the leek upon Saint
Tavy's day.

KING HENRY.
I wear it for a memorable honour;
For I am Welsh, you know, good countryman.

FLUELLEN.
All the water in Wye cannot wash your Majesty's Welsh plood out 
of your pody, I can tell you that. Got pless it and preserve it,
as long as it pleases His grace, and His majesty too!

KING HENRY.
Thanks, good my countryman.

FLUELLEN.
By Jeshu, I am your Majesty's countryman, I care not who know it.
I will confess it to all the 'orld. I need not be asham'd of your
Majesty, praised be God, so long as your Majesty is an honest man.

KING HENRY.
God keep me so! 

[Enter Williams.]

Our heralds go with him;
Bring me just notice of the numbers dead
On both our parts. Call yonder fellow hither.

[Exeunt Heralds with Montjoy.]

EXETER.
Soldier, you must come to the King.

KING HENRY.
Soldier, why wear'st thou that glove in thy cap?

WILLIAMS.
An't please your Majesty, 'tis the gage of one that I
should fight withal, if he be alive.

KING HENRY.
An Englishman?

WILLIAMS.
An't please your Majesty, a rascal that swagger'd with me
last night; who, if alive and ever dare to challenge this
glove, I have sworn to take him a box o' the ear; or if I can 
see my glove in his cap, which he swore, as he was a soldier, 
he would wear if alive, I will strike it out soundly.

KING HENRY.
What think you, Captain Fluellen?  Iis it fit this soldier keep 
his oath?

FLUELLEN.
He is a craven and a villain else, an't please your Majesty, in 
my conscience.

KING HENRY.
It may be his enemy is a gentlemen of great sort, quite from 
the answer of his degree.

FLUELLEN.
Though he be as good a gentleman as the devil is, as Lucifier 
and Belzebub himself, it is necessary, look your Grace, that he 
keep his vow and his oath.  If he be perjur'd, see you now, his 
reputation is as arrant a villain and a Jacksauce, as ever his
black shoe trod upon God's ground and His earth, in my
conscience, la!

KING HENRY.
Then keep thy vow, sirrah, when thou meet'st the fellow.

WILLIAMS.
So I will, my liege, as I live.

KING HENRY.
Who serv'st thou under?

WILLIAMS.
Under Captain Gower, my liege.

FLUELLEN.
Gower is a good captain, and is good knowledge and
literatured in the wars.

KING HENRY.
Call him hither to me, soldier.

WILLIAMS.
I will, my liege. 

[Exit.]

KING HENRY.
Here, Fluellen; wear thou this favour for me and stick it in thy 
cap.  When Alencon and myself were down together, I pluck'd 
this glove from his helm. If any man challenge this, he is a
friend to Alencon, and an enemy to our person.  If thou encounter
any such, apprehend him, an thou dost me love.

FLUELLEN.
Your Grace doo's me as great honours as can be desir'd in the 
hearts of his subjects. I would fain see the man, that has but
two legs, that shall find himself aggrief'd at this glove; that
is all.  But I would fain see it once, an please God of His grace
that I might see.

KING HENRY.
Know'st thou Gower?

FLUELLEN.
He is my dear friend, an please you.

KING HENRY.
Pray thee, go seek him, and bring him to my tent.

FLUELLEN.
I will fetch him.                               

[Exit.]

KING HENRY.
My Lord of Warwick, and my brother Gloucester,
Follow Fluellen closely at the heels.
The glove which I have given him for a favour
May haply purchase him a box o' the ear.
It is the soldier's; I by bargain should
Wear it myself. Follow, good cousin Warwick.
If that the soldier strike him, as I judge
By his blunt bearing he will keep his word,
Some sudden mischief may arise of it;
For I do know Fluellen valiant
And, touch'd with choler, hot as gunpowder,
And quickly will return an injury.
Follow, and see there be no harm between them.
Go you with me, uncle of Exeter.                      

[Exeunt.]



SCENE VIII. Before King Henry's pavilion.

[Enter Gower and Williams.]

WILLIAMS.
I warrant it is to knight you, Captain.

[Enter Fluellen.]

FLUELLEN.
God's will and his pleasure, captain, I beseech you now,
come apace to the King.  There is more good toward you
peradventure than is in your knowledge to dream of.

WILLIAMS.
Sir, know you this glove?

FLUELLEN.
Know the glove! I know the glove is a glove.

WILLIAMS.
I know this; and thus I challenge it.

[Strikes him.]

FLUELLEN.
'Sblood! an arrant traitor as any is in the universal
world, or in France, or in England!

GOWER.
How now, sir! you villain!

WILLIAMS. 
Do you think I'll be forsworn?

FLUELLEN.
Stand away, Captain Gower. I will give treason his
payment into plows, I warrant you.

WILLIAMS.
I am no traitor.

FLUELLEN.
That's a lie in thy throat. I charge you in his Majesty's
name, apprehend him; he's a friend of the Duke Alencon's.

[Enter Warwick and Gloucester.]

WARWICK. 
How now, how now! what's the matter?

FLUELLEN.
My lord of Warwick, here is--praised be God for it!--a most 
contagious treason come to light, look you, as you shall
desire in a summer's day. Here is his Majesty.

[Enter King Henry and Exeter.]

KING HENRY.
How now! what's the matter?

FLUELLEN.
My liege, here is a villain and a traitor, that, look your Grace,

has struck the glove which your Majesty is take out of the 
helmet of Alencon.

WILLIAMS.
My liege, this was my glove; here is the fellow of it; and he 
that I gave it to in change promis'd to wear it in his cap. I 
promis'd to strike him, if he did. I met this man with my
glove in his cap, and I have been as good as my word.

FLUELLEN.
Your Majesty hear now, saving your Majesty's manhood,
what an arrant, rascally, beggarly, lousy knave it is. I hope
your Majesty is pear me testimony and witness, and will
avouchment, that this is the glove of Alencon that your
Majesty is give me; in your conscience, now?

KING HENRY.
Give me thy glove, soldier.  Look, here is the fellow of it.
'Twas I, indeed, thou promisedst to strike;
And thou hast given me most bitter terms.

FLUELLEN.
An it please your Majesty, let his neck answer for it, if 
there is any martial law in the world.

KING HENRY.
How canst thou make me satisfaction?

WILLIAMS.
All offences, my lord, come from the heart.  Never came 
any from mine that might offend your Majesty.

KING HENRY.
It was ourself thou didst abuse.

WILLIAMS.
Your Majesty came not like yourself.  You appear'd to me
but as a common man; witness the night, your garments, your
lowliness; and what your Highness suffer'd under that shape, I
beseech you take it for your own fault and not mine; for had you
been as I took you for, I made no offence; therefore, I beseech
your Highness, pardon me.

KING HENRY.
Here, uncle Exeter, fill this glove with crowns,
And give it to this fellow. Keep it, fellow;
And wear it for an honour in thy cap
Till I do challenge it. Give him his crowns;
And, captain, you must needs be friends with him.

FLUELLEN.
By this day and this light, the fellow has mettle enough in his 
belly.  Hold, there is twelve pence for you; and I pray you to 
serve God, and keep you out of prawls, and prabbles, and
quarrels, and dissensions, and, I warrant you, it is the better
for you.

WILLIAMS.
I will none of your money.

FLUELLEN.
It is with a good will; I can tell you, it will serve you to mend
your shoes. Come, wherefore should you be so pashful?  Your 
shoes is not so good. 'Tis a good silling, I warrant you, or I
will change it.

[Enter [an English] Herald.]

KING HENRY.
Now, herald, are the dead numb'red?

HERALD.
Here is the number of the slaught'red French.

KING HENRY.
What prisoners of good sort are taken, uncle?

EXETER.
Charles Duke of Orleans, nephew to the King;
John Duke of Bourbon, and Lord Bouciqualt:
Of other lords and barons, knights and squires,
Full fifteen hundred, besides common men.

KING HENRY.
This note doth tell me of ten thousand French
That in the field lie slain; of princes, in this number,
And nobles bearing banners, there lie dead
One hundred twenty-six; added to these,
Of knights, esquires, and gallant gentlemen,
Eight thousand and four hundred; of the which,
Five hundred were but yesterday dubb'd knights;
So that, in these ten thousand they have lost,
There are but sixteen hundred mercenaries;
The rest are princes, barons, lords, knights, squires,
And gentlemen of blood and quality.
The names of those their nobles that lie dead:
Charles Delabreth, High Constable of France;
Jacques of Chatillon, Admiral of France;
The master of the cross-bows, Lord Rambures;
Great Master of France, the brave Sir Guichard Dauphin,
John Duke of Alencon, Anthony Duke of Brabant,
The brother to the Duke of Burgundy,
And Edward Duke of Bar; of lusty earls,
Grandpre and Roussi, Fauconberg and Foix,
Beaumont and Marle, Vaudemont and Lestrale.
Here was a royal fellowship of death!
Where is the number of our English dead?

[Herald shows him another paper.]

Edward the Duke of York, the Earl of Suffolk,
Sir Richard Ketly, Davy Gam, esquire;
None else of name; and of all other men
But five and twenty.--O God, thy arm was here;
And not to us, but to thy arm alone,
Ascribe we all! When, without stratagem,
But in plain shock and even play of battle,
Was ever known so great and little loss
On one part and on the other? Take it, God,
For it is none but thine!

EXETER.
'Tis wonderful!

KING HENRY.
Come, go we in procession to the village;
And be it death proclaimed through our host
To boast of this or take that praise from God
Which is His only.

FLUELLEN.
Is it not lawful, an please your Majesty, to tell how
many is kill'd?

KING HENRY.
Yes, Captain; but with this acknowledgment,
That God fought for us.

FLUELLEN.
Yes, my conscience, He did us great good.

KING HENRY.
Do we all holy rites.
Let there be sung Non nobis and Te Deum,
The dead with charity enclos'd in clay,
And then to Calais; and to England then,
Where ne'er from France arriv'd more happy men.       

[Exeunt.]



ACT FIFTH.

PROLOGUE.

[Enter Chorus.]

CHORUS.
Vouchsafe to those that have not read the story,
That I may prompt them; and of such as have,
I humbly pray them to admit the excuse
Of time, of numbers, and due course of things,
Which cannot in their huge and proper life
Be here presented. Now we bear the King
Toward Calais; grant him there; there seen,
Heave him away upon your winged thoughts
Athwart the sea. Behold, the English beach
Pales in the flood with men, with wives and boys,
Whose shouts and claps out-voice the deep-mouth'd sea,
Which like a mighty whiffler 'fore the King
Seems to prepare his way. So let him land,
And solemnly see him set on to London.
So swift a pace hath thought that even now
You may imagine him upon Blackheath,
Where that his lords desire him to have borne
His bruised helmet and his bended sword
Before him through the city. He forbids it,
Being free from vainness and self-glorious pride;
Giving full trophy, signal, and ostent
Quite from himself to God. But now behold,
In the quick forge and working-house of thought,
How London doth pour out her citizens!
The mayor and all his brethren in best sort,
Like to the senators of the antique Rome,
With the plebeians swarming at their heels,
Go forth and fetch their conquering Caesar in;
As, by a lower but loving likelihood,
Were now the general of our gracious empress,
As in good time he may, from Ireland coming,
Bringing rebellion broached on his sword,
How many would the peaceful city quit,
To welcome him! Much more, and much more cause,
Did they this Harry. Now in London place him;
As yet the lamentation of the French
Invites the King of England's stay at home,--
The Emperor's coming in behalf of France,
To order peace between them;--and omit
All the occurrences, whatever chanc'd,
Till Harry's back-return again to France.
There must we bring him; and myself have play'd
The interim, by rememb'ring you 'tis past.
Then brook abridgment, and your eyes advance
After your thoughts, straight back again to France.

[Exit.]



SCENE I. France.  The English camp.

[Enter Fluellen and Gower.]

GOWER.
Nay, that's right; but why wear you your leek to-day?
Saint Davy's day is past.

FLUELLEN.
There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all
things. I will tell you asse my friend, Captain Gower.  The
rascally, scald, beggarly, lousy, pragging knave, Pistol, which
you and yourself and all the world know to be no petter than a
fellow, look you now, of no merits, he is come to me and prings
me pread and salt yesterday, look you, and bid me eat my leek.  
It was in a place where I could not breed no contention with him;
but I will be so bold as to wear it in my cap till I see him once
again, and then I will tell him a little piece of my desires.

[Enter Pistol.]

GOWER.
Why, here he comes, swelling like a turkey-cock.

FLUELLEN.
'Tis no matter for his swellings nor his turkey-cocks.  God 
pless you, Aunchient Pistol! you scurvy, lousy knave, God
pless you!

PISTOL.
Ha! art thou bedlam? Dost thou thirst, base Troyan,
To have me fold up Parca's fatal web?
Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek.

FLUELLEN.
I peseech you heartily, scurfy, lousy knave, at my desires, 
and my requests, and my petitions, to eat, look you, this 
leek.  Because, look you, you do not love it, nor your
affections and your appetites and your digestions doo's not
agree with it, I would desire you to eat it.

PISTOL.
Not for Cadwallader and all his goats.

FLUELLEN.
There is one goat for you. [Strikes him.]  Will you be so 
good, scald knave, as eat it?

PISTOL.
Base Troyan, thou shalt die.

FLUELLEN.
You say very true, scald knave, when God's will is. I will 
desire you to live in the mean time, and eat your victuals.
Come, there is sauce for it. [Strikes him.]  You call'd me
yesterday mountain-squire; but I will make you to-day a 
squire of low degree. I pray you, fall to; if you can mock 
a leek, you can eat a leek.

GOWER.
Enough, captain; you have astonish'd him.

FLUELLEN.
I say, I will make him eat some part of my leek, or I will
peat his pate four days. Bite, I pray you; it is good for
your green wound and your ploody coxcomb.

PISTOL.
Must I bite?

FLUELLEN.
Yes, certainly, and out of doubt and out of question
too, and ambiguities.

PISTOL.
By this leek, I will most horribly revenge.  I eat and
eat, I swear--

FLUELLEN.
Eat, I pray you.  Will you have some more sauce to
your leek? There is not enough leek to swear by.

PISTOL.
Quiet thy cudgel; thou dost see I eat.

FLUELLEN.
Much good do you, scald knave, heartily. Nay, pray you,
throw none away; the skin is good for your broken coxcomb. 
When you take occasions to see leeks herefter, I pray you, 
mock at 'em; that is all.

PISTOL.
Good.

FLUELLEN.
Ay, leeks is good. Hold you, there is a groat to heal 
your pate.

PISTOL.
Me a groat!

FLUELLEN.
Yes, verily and in truth you shall take it; or I have
another leek in my pocket, which you shall eat.

PISTOL.
I take thy groat in earnest of revenge.

FLUELLEN.
If I owe you anything I will pay you in cudgels.  You
shall be a woodmonger, and buy nothing of me but cudgels. 
God be wi' you, and keep you, and heal your pate.

[Exit.]

PISTOL.
All hell shall stir for this.

GOWER.
Go, go; you are a couterfeit cowardly knave. Will you mock
at an ancient tradition, begun upon an honourable respect, and
worn as a memorable trophy of predeceased valour, and dare not
avouch in your deeds any of your words? I have seen you gleeking
and galling at this gentleman twice or thrice. You thought,
because he could not speak English in the native garb, he could
not therefore handle an English cudgel.  You find it otherwise;
and henceforth let a Welsh correction teach you a good English
condition. Fare ye well.

[Exit.]

PISTOL.
Doth Fortune play the huswife with me now?
News have I, that my Doll is dead i' the spital
Of malady of France;
And there my rendezvous is quite cut off.
Old I do wax; and from my weary limbs
Honour is cudgell'd. Well, bawd I'll turn,
And something lean to cutpurse of quick hand.
To England will I steal, and there I'll steal;
And patches will I get unto these cudgell'd scars,
And swear I got them in the Gallia wars.                

[Exit.]



SCENE II. France. A royal palace.

[Enter, at one door, King Henry, Exeter, Bedford, [Gloucester,]
Warwick, [Westmoreland,] and other Lords; at another, the French
King, Queen Isabel, [the Princess Katharine, Alice, and other
Ladies;] the Duke of Burgundy, and other French.]

KING HENRY.
Peace to this meeting, wherefore we are met!
Unto our brother France, and to our sister,
Health and fair time of day; joy and good wishes
To our most fair and princely cousin Katharine;
And, as a branch and member of this royalty,
By whom this great assembly is contriv'd,
We do salute you, Duke of Burgundy;
And, princes French, and peers, health to you all!

FRENCH KING.
Right joyous are we to behold your face,
Most worthy brother England; fairly met!
So are you, princes English, every one.

QUEEN ISABEL.
So happy be the issue, brother England,
Of this good day and of this gracious meeting
As we are now glad to behold your eyes;
Your eyes, which hitherto have borne in them
Against the French that met them in their bent
The fatal balls of murdering basilisks.
The venom of such looks, we fairly hope,
Have lost their quality; and that this day
Shall change all griefs and quarrels into love.

KING HENRY.
To cry amen to that, thus we appear.

QUEEN ISABEL.
You English princes all, I do salute you.

BURGUNDY.
My duty to you both, on equal love,
Great Kings of France and England! That I have labour'd,
With all my wits, my pains, and strong endeavours,
To bring your most imperial Majesties
Unto this bar and royal interview,
Your mightiness on both parts best can witness.
Since then my office hath so far prevail'd
That, face to face and royal eye to eye,
You have congreeted, let it not disgrace me
If I demand, before this royal view,
What rub or what impediment there is,
Why that the naked, poor, and mangled Peace,
Dear nurse of arts, plenties, and joyful births,
Should not in this best garden of the world,
Our fertile France, put up her lovely visage?
Alas, she hath from France too long been chas'd,
And all her husbandry doth lie on heaps,
Corrupting in it own fertility.
Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart,
Unpruned dies; her hedges even-pleach'd,
Like prisoners wildly overgrown with hair,
Put forth disorder'd twigs; her fallow leas
The darnel, hemlock, and rank fumitory,
Doth root upon, while that the coulter rusts
That should deracinate such savagery;
The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth
The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover,
Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank,
Conceives by idleness, and nothing teems
But hateful docks, rough thistles, kexes, burs,
Losing both beauty and utility;
And as our vineyards, fallows, meads, and hedges,
Defective in their natures, grow to wildness.
Even so our houses and ourselves and children
Have lost, or do not learn for want of time,
The sciences that should become our country;
But grow like savages,--as soldiers will
That nothing do but meditate on blood,--
To swearing and stern looks, diffus'd attire,
And everything that seems unnatural.
Which to reduce into our former favour
You are assembled; and my speech entreats
That I may know the let, why gentle Peace
Should not expel these inconveniences
And bless us with her former qualities.

KING HENRY.
If, Duke of Burgundy, you would the peace,
Whose want gives growth to the imperfections
Which you have cited, you must buy that peace
With full accord to all our just demands;
Whose tenours and particular effects
You have enschedul'd briefly in your hands.

BURGUNDY.
The King hath heard them; to the which as yet
There is no answer made.

KING HENRY.
Well, then, the peace,
Which you before so urg'd, lies in his answer.

FRENCH KING.
I have but with a cursorary eye
O'erglanc'd the articles.  Pleaseth your Grace
To appoint some of your council presently
To sit with us once more, with better heed
To re-survey them, we will suddenly
Pass our accept and peremptory answer.

KING HENRY.
Brother, we shall. Go, uncle Exeter,
And brother Clarence, and you, brother Gloucester,
Warwick, and Huntington, go with the King;
And take with you free power to ratify,
Augment, or alter, as your wisdoms best
Shall see advantageable for our dignity,
Anything in or out of our demands,
And we'll consign thereto. Will you, fair sister,
Go with the princes, or stay here with us?

QUEEN ISABEL.
Our gracious brother, I will go with them.
Haply a woman's voice may do some good,
When articles too nicely urg'd be stood on.

KING HENRY.
Yet leave our cousin Katharine here with us:
She is our capital demand, compris'd
Within the fore-rank of our articles.

QUEEN ISABEL.
She hath good leave.

[Exeunt all except Henry, Katharine [and Alice.]

KING HENRY.
Fair Katharine, and most fair,
Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms
Such as will enter at a lady's ear
And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart?

KATHARINE.
Your Majesty shall mock me; I cannot speak your
England.

KING HENRY.
O fair Katharine, if you will love me soundly with your
French heart, I will be glad to hear you confess it brokenly
with your English tongue. Do you like me, Kate?

KATHARINE.
Pardonnez-moi, I cannot tell wat is "like me."

KING HENRY.
An angel is like you, Kate, and you are like an angel.

KATHARINE.
Que dit-il? Que je suis semblable a les anges?

ALICE.
Oui, vraiment, sauf votre grace, ainsi dit-il.

KING HENRY.
I said so, dear Katharine; and I must not blush to affirm it.

KATHARINE.
O bon Dieu! les langues des hommes sont pleines de tromperies.

KING HENRY.
What says she, fair one? That the tongues of men are full of 
deceits?

ALICE.
Oui, dat de tongues of de mans is be full of deceits:  dat is de 
Princess.

KING HENRY.
The Princess is the better Englishwoman. I' faith, Kate, my 
wooing is fit for thy understanding: I am glad thou canst 
speak no better English; for if thou couldst, thou wouldst
find me such a plain king that thou wouldst think I had sold my
farm to buy my crown. I know no ways to mince it in love, but
directly to say, "I love you"; then if you urge me farther than
to say, "Do you in faith?" I wear out my suit. Give me your
answer; i' faith, do; and so clap hands and a bargain. How say
you, lady?

KATHARINE.
Sauf votre honneur, me understand well.

KING HENRY.
Marry, if you would put me to verses, or to dance for your 
sake, Kate, why you undid me; for the one, I have neither
words nor measure, and for the other I have no strength in
measure, yet a reasonable measure in strength. If I could win a
lady at leap-frog, or by vaulting into my saddle with my armour
on my back, under the correction of bragging be it spoken, I
should quickly leap into a wife. Or if I might buffet for my
love, or bound my horse for her favours, I could lay on like a
butcher and sit like a jack-an-apes, never off. But, before God,
Kate, I cannot look greenly, nor gasp out my eloquence, nor I
have no cunning in protestation; only downright oaths, which I
never use till urg'd, nor never break for urging. If thou canst
love a fellow of this temper, Kate, whose face is not worth
sunburning, that never looks in his glass for love of anything
he sees there, let thine eye be thy cook. I speak to thee plain
soldier. If thou canst love me for this, take me; if not, to say
to thee that I shall die, is true; but for thy love, by the Lord,
no; yet I love thee too. And while thou liv'st, dear Kate, take a
fellow of plain and uncoined constancy; for he perforce must do
thee right, because he hath not the gift to woo in other places;
for these fellows of infinite tongue, that can rhyme themselves
into ladies' favours, they do always reason themselves out again.
What! a speaker is but a prater: a rhyme is but a ballad. A good
leg will fall; a straight back will stoop; a black beard will turn
white; a curl'd pate will grow bald; a fair face will wither; a
full eye will wax hollow; but a good heart, Kate, is the sun and
the moon; or rather the sun and not the moon; for it shines bright
and never changes, but keeps his course truly.  If thou would have
such a one, take me; and take me, take a soldier; take a soldier,
take a king. And what say'st thou then to my love? Speak, my fair,
and fairly, I pray thee.

KATHARINE.
Is it possible dat I should love de enemy of France?

KING HENRY.
No; it is not possible you should love the enemy of France, Kate;
but, in loving me, you should love the friend of France; for I
love France so well that I will not part with a village of it, I
will have it all mine; and, Kate, when France is mine and I am
yours, then yours is France and you are mine.

KATHARINE.
I cannot tell wat is dat.

KING HENRY.
No, Kate? I will tell thee in French; which I am sure will hang 
upon my tongue like a new-married wife about her husband's 
neck, hardly to be shook off. Je quand sur le possession de 
France, et quand vous avez le possession de moi,--let me see, 
what then? Saint Denis be my speed!--donc votre est France 
et vous etes mienne. It is as easy for me, Kate, to conquer the 
kingdom as to speak so much more French. I shall never move 
thee in French, unless it be to laugh at me.

KATHARINE.
Sauf votre honneur, le Francais que vous parlez, il est meilleur 
que l'Anglois lequel je parle.

KING HENRY.
No, faith, is't not, Kate; but thy speaking of my tongue, and I 
thine, most truly-falsely, must needs be granted to be much at 
one. But, Kate, dost thou understand thus much English: canst 
thou love me?

KATHARINE.
I cannot tell.

KING HENRY.
Can any of your neighbours tell, Kate? I'll ask them.  Come, I 
know thou lovest me; and at night, when you come into your 
closet, you'll question this gentlewoman about me; and I know, 
Kate, you will to her dispraise those parts in me that you love 
with your heart. But, good Kate, mock me mercifully; the 
rather, gentle princess, because I love thee cruelly. If ever
thou beest mine, Kate, as I have a saving faith within me tells
me thou shalt, I get thee with scambling, and thou must therefore
needs prove a good soldier-breeder. Shall not thou and I, between 
Saint Denis and Saint George, compound a boy, half French, half
English, that shall go to Constantinople and take the Turk by the
beard? Shall we not? What say'st thou, my fair flower-de-luce?

KATHARINE.
I do not know dat.

KING HENRY.
No; 'tis hereafter to know, but now to promise.  Do but now 
promise, Kate, you will endeavour for your French part of
such a boy; and for my English moiety, take the word of a king 
and a bachelor. How answer you, la plus belle Katherine du monde,
mon tres cher et divin deesse?


KATHARINE.
Your Majestee ave fausse French enough to deceive de most 
sage damoiselle dat is en France.

KING HENRY.
Now, fie upon my false French! By mine honour, in true English, 
I love thee, Kate; by which honour I dare not swear thou lovest 
me; yet my blood begins to flatter me that thou dost,
notwithstanding the poor and untempering effect of my visage.
Now, beshrew my father's ambition! he was thinking of civil wars
when he got me; therefore was I created with a stubborn outside,
with an aspect of iron, that, when I come to woo ladies, I fright
them.  But, in faith, Kate, the elder I wax, the better I shall
appear.  My comfort is, that old age, that ill layer up of beauty,
can do no more spoil upon my face.  Thou hast me, if thou hast me,
at the worst; and thou shalt wear me, if thou wear me, better and
better; and therefore tell me, most fair Katharine, will you have
me? Put off your maiden blushes; avouch the thoughts of your heart
with the looks of an empress; take me by the hand, and say, Harry
of England, I am thine; which word thou shalt no sooner bless mine
ear withal, but I will tell thee aloud, England is thine, Ireland
is thine, France is thine, and Henry Plantagenet is thine; who,
though I speak it before his face, if he be not fellow with the
best king, thou shalt find the best king of good fellows.
Come, your answer in broken music; for thy voice is music and thy
English broken; therefore, queen of all, Katharine, break thy mind
to me in broken English.  Wilt thou have me?

KATHARINE.
Dat is as it shall please de roi mon pere.

KING HENRY.
Nay, it will please him well, Kate; it shall please him, Kate.

KATHARINE.
Den it sall also content me.

KING HENRY.
Upon that I kiss your hand, and call you my queen.

KATHARINE.
Laissez, mon seigneur, laissez, laissez! Ma foi, je ne veux point
que vous abaissez votre grandeur en baisant la main d'une indigne
serviteur.  Excusez-moi, je vous supplie, mon tres-puissant seigneur.

KING HENRY.
Then I will kiss your lips, Kate.

KATHARINE.
Les dames et demoiselles pour etre baisees devant leur noces, il
n'est pas la coutume de France.

KING HENRY.
Madame my interpreter, what says she?

ALICE.
Dat it is not be de fashion pour les ladies of France,--I cannot
tell wat is baiser en Anglish.

KING HENRY.
To kiss.

ALICE.
Your Majestee entendre bettre que moi.

KING HENRY.
It is not a fashion for the maids in France to kiss before they
are married, would she say?

ALICE.
Oui, vraiment.

KING HENRY.
O Kate, nice customs curtsy to great kings. Dear Kate, you and I 
cannot be confined within the weak list of a country's fashion. 
We are the makers of manners, Kate; and the liberty that follows
our places stops the mouth of all find-faults, as I will do yours,
for upholding the nice fashion of your country in denying me a kiss; 
therefore, patiently and yielding.  [Kissing her.] You have
witchcraft in your lips, Kate; there is more eloquence in a sugar
touch of them than in the tongues of the French council; and they
should sooner persuade Harry of England than a general petition of
monarchs.  Here comes your father.

[Re-enter the French Power and the English Lords.]

BURGUNDY.
God save your Majesty! My royal cousin, teach you our princess
English?

KING HENRY.
I would have her learn, my fair cousin, how perfectly I love her;
and that is good English.

BURGUNDY.
Is she not apt?

KING HENRY.
Our tongue is rough, coz, and my condition is not smooth; so
that, having neither the voice nor the heart of flattery about
me, I cannot so conjure up the spirit of love in her, that he
will appear in his true likeness.

BURGUNDY.
Pardon the frankness of my mirth, if I answer you for that. If
you would conjure in her, you must make a circle; if conjure up
Love in her in his true likeness, he must appear naked and blind.
Can you blame her then, being a maid yet ros'd over with the virgin
crimson of modesty, if she deny the appearance of a naked blind boy
in her naked seeing self? It were, my lord, a hard condition for a
maid to consign to.

KING HENRY.
Yet they do wink and yield, as love is blind and enforces.

BURGUNDY.
They are then excus'd, my lord, when they see not what they do.

KING HENRY.
Then, good my lord, teach your cousin to consent winking.

BURGUNDY.
I will wink on her to consent, my lord, if you will teach her to
know my meaning; for maids, well summer'd and warm kept, are like
flies at Bartholomew-tide, blind, though they have their eyes; and
then they will endure handling, which before would not abide
looking on.

KING HENRY.
This moral ties me over to time and a hot summer; and so I shall
catch the fly, your cousin, in the latter end, and she must be blind
too.

BURGUNDY.
As love is, my lord, before it loves.

KING HENRY.
It is so; and you may, some of you, thank love for my blindness,
who cannot see many a fair French city for one fair French maid
that stands in my way.

FRENCH KING.
Yes, my lord, you see them perspectively, the cities turn'd into
a maid; for they are all girdled with maiden walls that war hath
[never] ent'red.

KING HENRY.
Shall Kate be my wife?

FRENCH KING.
So please you.

KING HENRY.
I am content, so the maiden cities you talk of may wait on her;
so the maid that stood in the way for my wish shall show me the
way to my will.

FRENCH KING.
We have consented to all terms of reason.

KING HENRY.
Is't so, my lords of England?

WESTMORELAND.
The king hath granted every article;
His daughter first, and then in sequel all,
According to their firm proposed natures.

EXETER.
Only he hath not yet subscribed this:  where your Majesty demands, 
that the King of France, having any occasion to write for matter
of grant, shall name your Highness in this form and with this
addition, in French, Notre tres-cher fils Henri, Roi d'Angleterre,
Heritier de France; and thus in Latin, Praeclarissimus filius noster
Henricus, Rex Angliae et Haeres Franciae.