Enter Chorus.
CHORUS.Now entertain conjecture of a timeWhen creeping murmur and the poring darkFills the wide vessel of the universe.From camp to camp through the foul womb of nightThe hum of either army stilly sounds,That the fix’d sentinels almost receiveThe secret whispers of each other’s watch;Fire answers fire, and through their paly flamesEach battle sees the other’s umber’d face;Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighsPiercing the night’s dull ear; and from the tentsThe armourers, accomplishing the knights,With busy hammers closing rivets up,Give dreadful note of preparation.The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll,And the third hour of drowsy morning name.Proud of their numbers and secure in soul,The confident and over-lusty FrenchDo the low-rated English play at dice;And chide the cripple tardy-gaited NightWho, like a foul and ugly witch, doth limpSo tediously away. The poor condemned English,Like sacrifices, by their watchful firesSit patiently and inly ruminateThe morning’s danger; and their gesture sad,Investing lank-lean cheeks and war-worn coats,Presented them unto the gazing moonSo many horrid ghosts. O now, who will beholdThe royal captain of this ruin’d bandWalking 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 noteHow dread an army hath enrounded him;Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colourUnto the weary and all-watched night,But freshly looks, and over-bears attaintWith cheerful semblance and sweet majesty;That every wretch, pining and pale before,Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks.A largess universal like the sunHis liberal eye doth give to everyone,Thawing cold fear, that mean and gentle allBehold, 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 disgraceWith four or five most vile and ragged foils,Right ill-dispos’d in brawl ridiculous,The name of Agincourt. Yet sit and see,Minding true things by what their mock’ries be.
[Exit.]
SCENE I. The English camp at Agincourt.
Enter King Henry, Bedford and Gloucester.
KING HENRY.Gloucester, ’tis true that we are in great danger;The greater therefore should our courage be.Good morrow, brother Bedford. God Almighty!There is some soul of goodness in things evil,Would men observingly distil it out;For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers,Which is both healthful and good husbandry.Besides, they are our outward consciences,And preachers to us all, admonishingThat we should dress us fairly for our end.Thus may we gather honey from the weed,And make a moral of the devil himself.
Enter Erpingham.
Good morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpingham:A good soft pillow for that good white headWere better than a churlish turf of France.
ERPINGHAM.Not so, my liege; this lodging likes me better,Since I may say, “Now lie I like a king.”
KING HENRY.’Tis good for men to love their present painsUpon example; so the spirit is eased;And when the mind is quick’ned, out of doubt,The organs, though defunct and dead before,Break up their drowsy grave and newly move,With casted slough and fresh legerity.Lend me thy cloak, Sir Thomas. Brothers both,Commend me to the princes in our camp;Do my good morrow to them, and anonDesire them all to my pavilion.
GLOUCESTER.We shall, my liege.
ERPINGHAM.Shall I attend your Grace?
KING HENRY.No, my good knight;Go with my brothers to my lords of England.I and my bosom must debate a while,And then I would no other company.
ERPINGHAM.The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble Harry!
[Exeunt all but King.]
KING HENRY.God-a-mercy, old heart! thou speak’st cheerfully.
Enter Pistol.
PISTOL.Qui vous là?
KING HENRY.A friend.
PISTOL.Discuss unto me; art thou officer?Or art thou base, common, and popular?
KING HENRY.I am a gentleman of a company.
PISTOL.Trail’st thou the puissant pike?
KING HENRY.Even so. What are you?
PISTOL.As good a gentleman as the Emperor.
KING HENRY.Then you are a better than the King.
PISTOL.The King’s a bawcock, and a heart of gold,A lad of life, an imp of fame;Of parents good, of fist most valiant.I kiss his dirty shoe, and from heart-stringI love the lovely bully. What is thy name?
KING HENRY.Harry le Roy.
PISTOL.Le Roy! a Cornish name. Art thou of Cornish crew?
KING HENRY.No, I am a Welshman.
PISTOL.Know’st thou Fluellen?
KING HENRY.Yes.
PISTOL.Tell him I’ll knock his leek about his pateUpon Saint Davy’s day.
KING HENRY.Do not you wear your dagger in your cap that day, lest he knock thatabout yours.
PISTOL.Art thou his friend?
KING HENRY.And his kinsman too.
PISTOL.The fico for thee, then!
KING HENRY.I thank you. God be with you!
PISTOL.My name is Pistol call’d.
[Exit.]
KING HENRY.It sorts well with your fierceness.
Enter Fluellen and Gower.
GOWER.Captain Fluellen!
FLUELLEN.So! in the name of Jesu Christ, speak lower. It is the greatestadmiration in the universal world, when the true and anchientprerogatifes and laws of the wars is not kept. If you would take thepains but to examine the wars of Pompey the Great, you shall find, Iwarrant you, that there is no tiddle taddle nor pibble pabble inPompey’s camp. I warrant you, you shall find the ceremonies of thewars, and the cares of it, and the forms of it, and the sobriety of it,and the modesty of it, to be otherwise.
GOWER.Why, the enemy is loud; you hear him all night.
FLUELLEN.If the enemy is an ass and a fool and a prating coxcomb, is it meet,think you, that we should also, look you, be an ass and a fool and aprating coxcomb? In your own conscience, now?
GOWER.I will speak lower.
FLUELLEN.I pray you and beseech you that you will.
[Exeunt Gower and Fluellen.]
KING HENRY.Though it appear a little out of fashion,There is much care and valour in this Welshman.
Enter three soldiers, John Bates, Alexander Court and Michael Williams.
COURT.Brother John Bates, is not that the morning which breaks yonder?
BATES.I think it be; but we have no great cause to desire the approach ofday.
WILLIAMS.We see yonder the beginning of the day, but I think we shall never seethe end of it. Who goes there?
KING HENRY.A friend.
WILLIAMS.Under what captain serve you?
KING HENRY.Under Sir Thomas Erpingham.
WILLIAMS.A good old commander and a most kind gentleman. I pray you, what thinkshe of our estate?
KING HENRY.Even as men wreck’d upon a sand, that look to be wash’d off the nexttide.
BATES.He hath not told his thought to the King?
KING HENRY.No; nor it is not meet he should. For though I speak it to you, I thinkthe King is but a man as I am. The violet smells to him as it doth tome; the element shows to him as it doth to me; all his senses have buthuman conditions. His ceremonies laid by, in his nakedness he appearsbut a man; and though his affections are higher mounted than ours, yet,when they stoop, they stoop with the like wing. Therefore, when he seesreason of fears as we do, his fears, out of doubt, be of the samerelish as ours are; yet, in reason, no man should possess him with anyappearance of fear, lest he, by showing it, should dishearten his army.
BATES.He may show what outward courage he will; but I believe, as cold anight as ’tis, he could wish himself in Thames up to the neck; and so Iwould he were, and I by him, at all adventures, so we were quit here.
KING HENRY.By my troth, I will speak my conscience of the King: I think he wouldnot wish himself anywhere but where he is.
BATES.Then I would he were here alone; so should he be sure to be ransomed,and a many poor men’s lives saved.
KING HENRY.I dare say you love him not so ill, to wish him here alone, howsoeveryou speak this to feel other men’s minds. Methinks I could not dieanywhere so contented as in the King’s company, his cause being justand his quarrel honourable.
WILLIAMS.That’s more than we know.
BATES.Ay, or more than we should seek after; for we know enough, if we knowwe are the King’s subjects. If his cause be wrong, our obedience to theKing wipes the crime of it out of us.
WILLIAMS.But if the cause be not good, the King himself hath a heavy reckoningto make, when all those legs and arms and heads, chopp’d off in abattle, shall join together at the latter day and cry all, “We died atsuch a place”; some swearing, some crying for a surgeon, some upontheir wives left poor behind them, some upon the debts they owe, someupon their children rawly left. I am afeard there are few die well thatdie in a battle; for how can they charitably dispose of anything, whenblood is their argument? Now, if these men do not die well, it will bea black matter for the King that led them to it; who to disobey wereagainst all proportion of subjection.
KING HENRY.So, if a son that is by his father sent about merchandise do sinfullymiscarry upon the sea, the imputation of his wickedness, by your rule,should be imposed upon his father that sent him; or if a servant, underhis master’s command transporting a sum of money, be assailed byrobbers and die in many irreconcil’d iniquities, you may call thebusiness of the master the author of the servant’s damnation. But thisis not so. The King is not bound to answer the particular endings ofhis soldiers, the father of his son, nor the master of his servant; forthey purpose not their death, when they purpose their services.Besides, there is no king, be his cause never so spotless, if it cometo the arbitrement of swords, can try it out with all unspottedsoldiers. Some peradventure have on them the guilt of premeditated andcontrived murder; some, of beguiling virgins with the broken seals ofperjury; some, making the wars their bulwark, that have before goredthe gentle bosom of Peace with pillage and robbery. Now, if these menhave defeated the law and outrun native punishment, though they canoutstrip men, they have no wings to fly from God. War is his beadle,war is his vengeance; so that here men are punish’d for before-breachof the King’s laws in now the King’s quarrel. Where they feared thedeath, they have borne life away; and where they would be safe, theyperish. Then if they die unprovided, no more is the King guilty oftheir damnation than he was before guilty of those impieties for thewhich they are now visited. Every subject’s duty is the King’s; butevery subject’s soul is his own. Therefore should every soldier in thewars do as every sick man in his bed, wash every mote out of hisconscience; and dying so, death is to him advantage; or not dying, thetime was blessedly lost wherein such preparation was gained; and in himthat escapes, it were not sin to think that, making God so free anoffer, He let him outlive that day to see His greatness and to teachothers how they should prepare.
WILLIAMS.’Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the ill upon his own head, theKing is not to answer for it.
BATES.I do not desire he should answer for me; and yet I determine to fightlustily for him.
KING HENRY.I myself heard the King say he would not be ransom’d.
WILLIAMS.Ay, he said so, to make us fight cheerfully; but when our throats arecut, he may be ransom’d, and we ne’er the wiser.
KING HENRY.If I live to see it, I will never trust his word after.
WILLIAMS.You pay him then. That’s a perilous shot out of an elder-gun, that apoor and a private displeasure can do against a monarch! You may aswell go about to turn the sun to ice with fanning in his face with apeacock’s feather. You’ll never trust his word after! Come, ’tis afoolish saying.
KING HENRY.Your reproof is something too round. I should be angry with you, if thetime were convenient.
WILLIAMS.Let it be a quarrel between us if you live.
KING HENRY.I embrace it.
WILLIAMS.How shall I know thee again?
KING HENRY.Give me any gage of thine, and I will wear it in my bonnet; then, ifever thou dar’st acknowledge it, I will make it my quarrel.
WILLIAMS.Here’s my glove; give me another of thine.
KING HENRY.There.
WILLIAMS.This will I also wear in my cap. If ever thou come to me and say, aftertomorrow, “This is my glove,” by this hand I will take thee a box onthe ear.
KING HENRY.If ever I live to see it, I will challenge it.
WILLIAMS.Thou dar’st as well be hang’d.
KING HENRY.Well, I will do it, though I take thee in the King’s company.
WILLIAMS.Keep thy word; fare thee well.
BATES.Be friends, you English fools, be friends. We have French quarrelsenough, if you could tell how to reckon.
KING HENRY.Indeed, the French may lay twenty French crowns to one they will beatus, for they bear them on their shoulders; but it is no English treasonto cut French crowns, and tomorrow the King himself will be a clipper.
[Exeunt soldiers.]
Upon the King! Let us our lives, our souls,Our debts, our careful wives,Our children, and our sins lay on the King!We must bear all. O hard condition,Twin-born with greatness, subject to the breathOf every fool, whose sense no more can feelBut his own wringing! What infinite heart’s easeMust kings neglect, that private men enjoy!And what have kings, that privates have not too,Save ceremony, save general ceremony?And what art thou, thou idol Ceremony?What kind of god art thou, that suffer’st moreOf mortal griefs than do thy worshippers?What are thy rents? What are thy comings in?O Ceremony, show me but thy worth!What is thy soul of adoration?Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form,Creating awe and fear in other men?Wherein thou art less happy being fear’dThan they in fearing.What drink’st thou oft, instead of homage sweet,But poison’d flattery? O, be sick, great greatness,And bid thy Ceremony give thee cure!Think’st thou the fiery fever will go outWith titles blown from adulation?Will it give place to flexure and low bending?Canst thou, when thou command’st the beggar’s knee,Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream,That play’st so subtly with a king’s repose;I am a king that find thee, and I know’Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball,The sword, the mace, the crown imperial,The intertissued robe of gold and pearl,The farced title running ’fore the King,The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pompThat beats upon the high shore of this world,No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous Ceremony,—Not all these, laid in bed majestical,Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave,Who with a body fill’d and vacant mindGets him to rest, cramm’d with distressful bread,Never sees horrid night, the child of hell,But, like a lackey, from the rise to setSweats in the eye of Phoebus, and all nightSleeps in Elysium; next day after dawn,Doth rise and help Hyperion to his horse,And follows so the ever-running year,With profitable labour, to his grave:And, but for ceremony, such a wretch,Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep,Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king.The slave, a member of the country’s peace,Enjoys it, but in gross brain little wotsWhat watch the King keeps to maintain the peace,Whose hours the peasant best advantages.
Enter Erpingham.
ERPINGHAM.My lord, your nobles, jealous of your absence,Seek through your camp to find you.
KING HENRY.Good old knight,Collect them all together at my tent.I’ll be before thee.
ERPINGHAM.I shall do’t, my lord.
[Exit.]
KING HENRY.O God of battles! steel my soldiers’ hearts.Possess them not with fear. Take from them nowThe sense of reckoning, if the opposed numbersPluck their hearts from them. Not today, O Lord,O, not today, think not upon the faultMy father made in compassing the crown!I Richard’s body have interred new,And on it have bestow’d more contrite tearsThan from it issued forced drops of blood.Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay,Who twice a day their wither’d hands hold upToward heaven, to pardon blood; and I have builtTwo chantries, where the sad and solemn priestsSing still for Richard’s soul. More will I do;Though all that I can do is nothing worth,Since that my penitence comes after all,Imploring pardon.
Enter Gloucester.
GLOUCESTER.My liege!
KING HENRY.My brother Gloucester’s voice? Ay;I know thy errand, I will go with thee.The day, my friends, and all things stay for me.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE II. The French camp.
Enter the Dauphin, Orleans, Rambures and others.
ORLEANS.The sun doth gild our armour; up, my lords!
DAUPHIN.Monte à cheval! My horse, varlet! laquais, ha!
ORLEANS.O brave spirit!
DAUPHIN.Via, les eaux et terre!
ORLEANS.Rien puis? L’air et feu?
DAUPHIN.Cieux, cousin Orleans.
Enter Constable.
Now, my Lord Constable!
CONSTABLE.Hark, how our steeds for present service neigh!
DAUPHIN.Mount them, and make incision in their hides,That their hot blood may spin in English eyes,And dout them with superfluous courage, ha!
RAMBURES.What, will you have them weep our horses’ blood?How shall we, then, behold their natural tears?
Enter a Messenger.
MESSENGER.The English are embattl’d, you French peers.
CONSTABLE.To horse, you gallant princes! straight to horse!Do but behold yon poor and starved band,And your fair show shall suck away their souls,Leaving them but the shales and husks of men.There is not work enough for all our hands;Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veinsTo give each naked curtle-axe a stain,That our French gallants shall today draw out,And sheathe for lack of sport. Let us but blow on them,The vapour of our valour will o’erturn them.’Tis positive ’gainst all exceptions, lords,That our superfluous lackeys and our peasants,Who in unnecessary action swarmAbout our squares of battle, were enoughTo purge this field of such a hilding foe,Though we upon this mountain’s basis byTook stand for idle speculation,But that our honours must not. What’s to say?A very little little let us do,And all is done. Then let the trumpets soundThe tucket sonance and the note to mount;For our approach shall so much dare the fieldThat England shall crouch down in fear and yield.
Enter Grandpré.
GRANDPRÉ.Why do you stay so long, my lords of France?Yond island carrions, desperate of their bones,Ill-favouredly become the morning field.Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose,And our air shakes them passing scornfully.Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar’d host,And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps;The horsemen sit like fixed candlesticksWith torch-staves in their hand; and their poor jadesLob down their heads, drooping the hides and hips,The gum down-roping from their pale-dead eyes,And in their pale dull mouths the gimmal bitLies foul with chew’d grass, still, and motionless;And their executors, the knavish crows,Fly o’er them, all impatient for their hour.Description cannot suit itself in wordsTo demonstrate the life of such a battle,In life so lifeless as it shows itself.
CONSTABLE.They have said their prayers, and they stay for death.
DAUPHIN.Shall we go send them dinners and fresh suitsAnd give their fasting horses provender,And after fight with them?
CONSTABLE.I stay but for my guard; on to the field!I will the banner from a trumpet take,And use it for my haste. Come, come, away!The sun is high, and we outwear the day.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE III. The English camp.
Enter Gloucester, Bedford, Exeter, Erpingham, with all his host: Salisbury and Westmorland.
GLOUCESTER.Where is the King?
BEDFORD.The King himself is rode to view their battle.
WESTMORLAND.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 today!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.
WESTMORLAND.O that we now had hereBut one ten thousand of those men in EnglandThat do no work today!
KING.What’s he that wishes so?My cousin Westmorland? No, my fair cousin.If we are mark’d to die, we are enoughTo 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 honourAs one man more, methinks, would share from meFor the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!Rather proclaim it, Westmorland, 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 companyThat 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, “Tomorrow 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 advantagesWhat 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 remembered.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 today that sheds his blood with meShall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,This day shall gentle his condition;And gentlemen in England now abedShall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaksThat fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.
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.
WESTMORLAND.Perish the man whose mind is backward now!
KING HENRY.Thou dost not wish more help from England, coz?
WESTMORLAND.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 mindThy followers of repentance; that their soulsMay make a peaceful and a sweet retireFrom off these fields, where, wretches, their poor bodiesMust 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 skinWhile the beast liv’d, was kill’d with hunting him.A many of our bodies shall no doubtFind 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 ConstableWe are but warriors for the working-day.Our gayness and our gilt are all besmirch’dWith 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 nightThey’ll be in fresher robes, or they will pluckThe gay new coats o’er the French soldiers’ headsAnd turn them out of service. If they do this—As, if God please, they shall,—my ransom thenWill 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 begThe 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 êtes le gentilhomme de bonne qualité.
PISTOL.Qualité? Caleno custore 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 meEgregious ransom.
FRENCH SOLDIER.O, prenez miséricorde! Ayez pitié de moi!
PISTOL.Moy shall not serve; I will have forty moys,Or I will fetch thy rim out at thy throatIn drops of crimson blood.
FRENCH SOLDIER.Est-il impossible d’échapper 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 FrenchWhat is his name.
BOY.Écoutez. Comment êtes-vous appelé?
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 à vous dire que vous faites vous prêt, car ce soldatici est disposé tout à 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 legentilhomme de bonne maison; gardez ma vie, et je vous donnerai deuxcents écus.
PISTOL.What are his words?
BOY.He prays you to save his life. He is a gentleman of a good house; andfor his ransom he will give you two hundred crowns.
PISTOL.Tell him my fury shall abate, and IThe crowns will take.
FRENCH SOLDIER.Petit monsieur, que dit-il?
BOY.Encore qu’il est contre son jurement de pardonner aucun prisonnier;néanmoins, pour les écus que vous lui avez promis, il est content àvous donner la liberté, le franchisement.
FRENCH SOLDIER.Sur mes genoux je vous donne mille remerciements; et je m’estimeheureux que je suis tombé entre les mains d’un chevalier, je pense, leplus brave, vaillant, et très distingué seigneur d’Angleterre.
PISTOL.Expound unto me, boy.
BOY.He gives you upon his knees, a thousand thanks; and he esteems himselfhappy that he hath fallen into the hands of one, as he thinks, the mostbrave, valorous, and thrice-worthy seigneur of England.
PISTOL.As I suck blood, I will some mercy show.Follow me!
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 thesaying is true, “The empty vessel makes the greatest sound.” Bardolphand Nym had ten times more valour than this roaring devil i’ the oldplay, that everyone may pare his nails with a wooden dagger; and theyare both hang’d; and so would this be, if he durst steal anythingadventurously. I must stay with the lackeys with the luggage of ourcamp. The French might have a good prey of us, if he knew of it; forthere 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 shameSits mocking in our plumes.
[A short alarum.]
O méchante 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 doorWhilst 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 enough yet living in the fieldTo 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 hourI 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 gashesThat 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 fieldWe 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 neckHe threw his wounded arm and kiss’d his lips;And so espous’d to death, with blood he seal’dA testament of noble-ending love.The pretty and sweet manner of it forc’dThose 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 eyesAnd gave me up to tears.
KING HENRY.I blame you not;For, hearing this, I must perforce compoundWith 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; inyour conscience, now, is it not?
GOWER.’Tis certain there’s not a boy left alive; and the cowardly rascalsthat ran from the battle ha’ done this slaughter. Besides, they haveburned and carried away all that was in the King’s tent; wherefore theKing, most worthily, hath caus’d every soldier to cut his prisoner’sthroat. O, ’tis a gallant king!
FLUELLEN.Ay, he was porn at Monmouth, Captain Gower. What call you the town’sname 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 themighty, or the huge, or the magnanimous, are all one reckonings, savethe phrase is a little variations.
GOWER.I think Alexander the Great was born in Macedon. His father was calledPhilip 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 thecomparisons between Macedon and Monmouth, that the situations, lookyou, is both alike. There is a river in Macedon; and there is alsomoreover a river at Monmouth; it is call’d Wye at Monmouth; but it isout 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 inboth. If you mark Alexander’s life well, Harry of Monmouth’s life iscome after it indifferent well; for there is figures in all things.Alexander, God knows, and you know, in his rages, and his furies, andhis wraths, and his cholers, and his moods, and his displeasures, andhis 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 comparisonsof it. As Alexander kill’d his friend Cleitus, being in his ales andhis cups; so also Harry Monmouth, being in his right wits and his goodjudgements, turn’d away the fat knight with the great belly doublet. Hewas full of jests, and gipes, and knaveries, and mocks; I have forgothis 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 FranceUntil 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 stonesEnforced from the old Assyrian slings.Besides, we’ll cut the throats of those we have,And not a man of them that we shall takeShall 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 notThat 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 fieldTo 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 limbsIn blood of princes; and their wounded steedsFret fetlock deep in gore, and with wild rageYerk out their armed heels at their dead masters,Killing them twice. O, give us leave, great King,To view the field in safety, and disposeOf 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 peerAnd 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 yourgreat-uncle Edward the Plack Prince of Wales, as I have read in thechronicles, 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, theWelshmen did good service in garden where leeks did grow, wearing leeksin their Monmouth caps; which, your Majesty know, to this hour is anhonourable badge of the service; and I do believe your Majesty takes noscorn 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 yourpody, I can tell you that. Got pless it and preserve it, as long as itpleases 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. Iwill confess it to all the ’orld. I need not be asham’d of yourMajesty, 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 deadOn 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 fightwithal, 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 totake him a box o’ the ear; or if I can see my glove in his cap, whichhe swore, as he was a soldier, he would wear if alive, I will strike itout soundly.
KING HENRY.What think you, Captain Fluellen, is it fit this soldier keep his oath?
FLUELLEN.He is a craven and a villain else, an’t please your Majesty, in myconscience.
KING HENRY.It may be his enemy is a gentlemen of great sort, quite from the answerof his degree.
FLUELLEN.Though he be as good a gentleman as the devil is, as Lucifier andBelzebub himself, it is necessary, look your Grace, that he keep hisvow and his oath. If he be perjur’d, see you now, his reputation is asarrant a villain and a Jacksauce, as ever his black shoe trod uponGod’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 thewars.
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 Alençon and myself were down together, I pluck’d this glove fromhis helm. If any man challenge this, he is a friend to Alençon, and anenemy to our person. If thou encounter any such, apprehend him, an thoudost me love.
FLUELLEN.Your Grace does me as great honours as can be desir’d in the hearts ofhis subjects. I would fain see the man, that has but two legs, thatshall find himself aggrief’d at this glove; that is all. But I wouldfain 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 favourMay haply purchase him a box o’ the ear.It is the soldier’s; I by bargain shouldWear it myself. Follow, good cousin Warwick.If that the soldier strike him, as I judgeBy his blunt bearing he will keep his word,Some sudden mischief may arise of it;For I do know Fluellen valiantAnd, 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 tothe King. There is more good toward you peradventure than is in yourknowledge 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 inFrance, 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 Alençon’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 contagioustreason 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, hasstruck the glove which your Majesty is take out of the helmet ofAlençon.
WILLIAMS.My liege, this was my glove; here is the fellow of it; and he that Igave it to in change promis’d to wear it in his cap. I promis’d tostrike him, if he did. I met this man with my glove in his cap, and Ihave 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 metestimony and witness, and will avouchment, that this is the glove ofAlençon 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 anymartial 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 minethat 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 commonman; witness the night, your garments, your lowliness; and what yourHighness suffer’d under that shape, I beseech you take it for your ownfault and not mine; for had you been as I took you for, I made nooffence; 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 capTill 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, andkeep 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 yourshoes. Come, wherefore should you be so pashful? Your shoes is not sogood. ’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 Boucicault:Of other lords and barons, knights and squires,Full fifteen hundred, besides common men.
KING HENRY.This note doth tell me of ten thousand FrenchThat in the field lie slain; of princes, in this number,And nobles bearing banners, there lie deadOne 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 Crossbows, Lord Rambures;Great Master of France, the brave Sir Guichard Dauphin,John, Duke of Alençon, Anthony, Duke of Brabant,The brother to the Duke of Burgundy,And Edward, Duke of Bar; of lusty earls,Grandpré and Roussi, Fauconbridge and Foix,Beaumont and Marle, Vaudemont and Lestrale.Here was a royal fellowship of death!Where is the number of our English dead?
[Herald gives 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 menBut 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 lossOn 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 hostTo boast of this or take that praise from GodWhich 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.]