Henry V

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Original text
Flourish. Enter Chorus.
Thus with imagin'd wing our swift Scene flyes,
In motion of no lesse celeritie
then that of Thought. / Suppose, that you haue seene
The well-appointed King at Douer Peer,
Embarke his Royaltie: and his braue Fleet,
With silken Streamers, the young Phebus fayning;
Play with your Fancies: and in them behold,
Vpon the Hempen Tackle, Ship-boyes climbing;
Heare the shrill Whistle, which doth order giue
To sounds confus'd: behold the threaden Sayles,
Borne with th'inuisible and creeping Wind,
Draw the huge Bottomes through the furrowed Sea,
Bresting the loftie Surge. O, doe but thinke
You stand vpon the Riuage, and behold
A Citie on th'inconstant Billowes dauncing:
For so appeares this Fleet Maiesticall,
Holding due course to Harflew. Follow, follow:
Grapple your minds to sternage of this Nauie,
And leaue your England as dead Mid-night, still,
Guarded with Grandsires, Babyes, and old Women,
Eyther past, or not arriu'd to pyth and puissance:
For who is he, whose Chin is but enricht
With one appearing Hayre, that will not follow
These cull'd and choyse-drawne Caualiers to France?
Worke, worke your Thoughts, and therein see a Siege:
Behold the Ordenance on their Carriages,
With fatall mouthes gaping on girded Harflew.
Suppose th' Embassador from the French comes back:
Tells Harry, That the King doth offer him
Katherine his Daughter, and with her to Dowrie,
Some petty and vnprofitable Dukedomes.
The offer likes not: and the nimble Gunner
With Lynstock now the diuellish Cannon touches,
Alarum, and Chambers goe off.
And downe goes all before them. Still be kind,
And eech out our performance with your mind.
Exit.
Original text
Act III, Scene I
Enter the King, Exeter, Bedford, and Gloucester.
Alarum: Scaling Ladders at Harflew.

King.
Once more vnto the Breach, / Deare friends, once more;
Or close the Wall vp with our English dead:
In Peace, there's nothing so becomes a man,
As modest stillnesse, and humilitie:
But when the blast of Warre blowes in our eares,
Then imitate the action of the Tyger:
Stiffen the sinewes, commune vp the blood,
Disguise faire Nature with hard-fauour'd Rage:
Then lend the Eye a terrible aspect:
Let it pry through the portage of the Head,
Like the Brasse Cannon: let the Brow o'rewhelme it,
As fearefully, as doth a galled Rocke
O're-hang and iutty his confounded Base,
Swill'd with the wild and wastfull Ocean.
Now set the Teeth, and stretch the Nosthrill wide,
Hold hard the Breath, and bend vp euery Spirit
To his full height. On, on, you Noblish English,
Whose blood is fet from Fathers of Warre-proofe:
Fathers, that like so many Alexanders,
Haue in these parts from Morne till Euen fought,
And sheath'd their Swords, for lack of argument.
Dishonour not your Mothers: now attest,
That those whom you call'd Fathers, did beget you.
Be Coppy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to Warre. And you good Yeomen,
Whose Lyms were made in England; shew vs here
The mettell of your Pasture: let vs sweare,
That you are worth your breeding: which I doubt not:
For there is none of you so meane and base,
That hath not Noble luster in your eyes.
I see you stand like Grey-hounds in the slips,
Straying vpon the Start. The Game's afoot:
Follow your Spirit; and vpon this Charge,
Cry, God for Harry, England, and S. George.
Alarum, and Chambers goe off.
Original text
Act III, Scene II
Enter Nim, Bardolph, Pistoll, and Boy.

Bard.
On, on, on, on, on, to the breach, to the
breach.

Nim.
'Pray thee Corporall stay, the Knocks are too hot:
and for mine owne part, I haue not a Case of Liues: the
humor of it is too hot, that is the very plaine-Song of it.

Pist.
The plaine-Song is most iust: for humors doe abound:
Knocks goe and come: Gods Vassals drop and dye:
and Sword and Shield,
in bloody Field,
doth winne immortall fame.

Boy.
Would I were in a Ale-house in London, I would
giue all my fame for a Pot of Ale, and safetie.

Pist.
And I:
If wishes would preuayle with me,
my purpose should not fayle with me;
but thither would I high.

Boy.
As duly,
but not as truly,
as Bird doth sing on bough.
Enter Fluellen.

Flu.
Vp to the breach, you Dogges; auaunt you
Cullions.


Pist.
Be mercifull great Duke to men of Mould:
abate thy Rage, abate thy manly Rage;
abate thy Rage, great Duke.
Good Bawcock bate thy Rage: vse lenitie sweet Chuck.

Nim.
These be good humors: your Honor wins bad
humors.
Exit.

Boy.
As young as I am, I haue obseru'd these three
Swashers: I am Boy to them all three, but all they three,
though they would serue me, could not be Man to me;
for indeed three such Antiques doe not amount to a man:
for Bardolph, hee is white-liuer'd, and red-fac'd; by
the meanes whereof, a faces it out, but fights not: for
Pistoll, hee hath a killing Tongue, and a quiet Sword; by
the meanes whereof, a breakes Words, and keepes whole
Weapons: for Nim, hee hath heard, that men of few
Words are the best men, and therefore hee scornes to say
his Prayers, lest a should be thought a Coward: but his
few bad Words are matcht with as few good Deeds; for
a neuer broke any mans Head but his owne, and that
was against a Post, when he was drunke. They will steale
any thing, and call it Purchase. Bardolph stole a Lute-case,
bore it twelue Leagues, and sold it for three halfepence.
Nim and Bardolph are sworne Brothers in filching:
and in Callice they stole a fire-shouell. I knew by that
peece of Seruice, the men would carry Coales. They would
haue me as familiar with mens Pockets, as their Gloues
or their Hand-kerchers: which makes much against my
Manhood, if I should take from anothers Pocket, to
put into mine; for it is plaine pocketting vp of Wrongs. I
must leaue them, and seeke some better Seruice: their
Villany goes against my weake stomacke, and therefore
I must cast it vp.
Exit.
Enter Gower.

Gower.
Captaine Fluellen, you must come presently to
the Mynes; the Duke of Gloucester would speake with you.

Flu.
To the Mynes? Tell you the Duke, it is not so
good to come to the Mynes: for looke you, the Mynes is
not according to the disciplines of the Warre; the
concauities of it is not sufficient: for looke you, th' athuersarie,
you may discusse vnto the Duke, looke you, is digt himselfe
foure yard vnder the Countermines: by Cheshu, I
thinke a will plowe vp all, if there is not better directions.

Gower.
The Duke of Gloucester, to whom the Order of the
Siege is giuen, is altogether directed by an Irish man, a
very valiant Gentleman yfaith.

Welch.
It is Captaine Makmorrice, is it not?

Gower.
I thinke it be.

Welch.
By Cheshu he is an Asse, as in the World, I
will verifie as much in his Beard: he ha's no more
directions in the true disciplines of the Warres, looke you,
of the Roman disciplines, then is a Puppy-dog.
Enter Makmorrice, and Captaine Iamy.

Gower.
Here a comes, and the Scots Captaine, Captaine
Iamy, with him.

Welch.
Captaine Iamy is a maruellous falorous Gentleman,
that is certain, and of great expedition
and knowledge in th' aunchiant Warres, vpon my particular
knowledge of his directions: by Cheshu he will maintaine
his Argument as well as any Militarie man in the World, in
the disciplines of the Pristine Warres of the Romans.

Scot.
I say gudday, Captaine Fluellen.

Welch.
Godden to your Worship, good Captaine
Iames.

Gower.
How now Captaine Mackmorrice, haue you quit the
Mynes? haue the Pioners giuen o're?

Irish.
By Chrish Law tish ill done: the Worke ish
giue ouer, the Trompet sound the Retreat. By my Hand
I sweare, and my fathers Soule, the Worke ish ill done: it
ish giue ouer: I would haue blowed vp the Towne, so
Chrish saue me law, in an houre. O tish ill done, tish ill
done: by my Hand tish ill done.

Welch.
Captaine Mackmorrice, I beseech you now, will
you voutsafe me, looke you, a few disputations with you,
as partly touching or concerning the disciplines of the
Warre, the Roman Warres, in the way of Argument, looke you,
and friendly communication: partly to satisfie my
Opinion, and partly for the satisfaction, looke you, of my
Mind: as touching the direction of the Militarie discipline,
that is the Point.

Scot.
It sall be vary gud, gud feith, gud Captens bath, and
I sall quit you with gud leue, as I may pick occasion: that
sall I mary.

Irish.
It is no time to discourse, so Chrish saue me:
the day is hot, and the Weather, and the Warres, and the
King, and the Dukes: it is no time to discourse, the
Town is beseech'd: and the Trumpet call vs to the breech,
and we talke, and be Chrish do nothing, tis shame for vs
all: so God sa'me tis shame to stand still, it is shame by
my hand: and there is Throats to be cut, and Workes to be
done, and there ish nothing done, so Christ sa'me law.

Scot.
By the Mes, ere theise eyes of mine take themselues
to slomber, ayle de gud seruice, or Ile ligge
i'th'grund for it; ay, or goe to death: and Ile pay't as
valorously as I may, that sal I suerly do, that is the
breff and the long: mary, I wad full faine heard some
question tween you tway.

Welch.
Captaine Mackmorrice, I thinke, looke you, vnder
your correction, there is not many of your Nation.

Irish.
Of my Nation? What ish my Nation? Ish a
Villaine, and a Basterd, and a Knaue, and a Rascall. What
ish my Nation? Who talkes of my Nation?

Welch.
Looke you, if you take the matter otherwise
then is meant, Captaine Mackmorrice, peraduenture I shall
thinke you doe not vse me with that affabilitie, as in
discretion you ought to vse me, looke you, being as good a
man as your selfe, both in the disciplines of Warre, and in
the deriuation of my Birth, and in other particularities.

Irish.
I doe not know you so good a man as my selfe:
so Chrish saue me, I will cut off your Head.

Gower.
Gentlemen both, you will mistake each other.

Scot
A, that's a foule fault.
A Parley.

Gower.
The Towne sounds a Parley.

Welch.
Captaine Mackmorrice, when there is more
better oportunitie to be required, looke you, I will be
so bold as to tell you, I know the disciplines of Warre: and
there is an end.
Exit.
Original text
Act III, Scene III
Enter the King and all his Traine before the Gates.

King.
How yet resolues the Gouernour of the Towne?
This is the latest Parle we will admit:
Therefore to our best mercy giue your selues,
Or like to men prowd of destruction,
Defie vs to our worst: for as I am a Souldier,
A Name that in my thoughts becomes me best;
If I begin the batt'rie once againe,
I will not leaue the halfe-atchieued Harflew,
Till in her ashes she lye buryed.
The Gates of Mercy shall be all shut vp,
And the flesh'd Souldier, rough and hard of heart,
In libertie of bloody hand, shall raunge
With Conscience wide as Hell, mowing like Grasse
Your fresh faire Virgins, and your flowring Infants.
What is it then to me, if impious Warre,
Arrayed in flames like to the Prince of Fiends,
Doe with his smyrcht complexion all fell feats,
Enlynckt to wast and desolation?
What is't to me, when you your selues are cause,
If your pure Maydens fall into the hand
Of hot and forcing Violation?
What Reyne can hold licentious Wickednesse,
When downe the Hill he holds his fierce Carriere?
We may as bootlesse spend our vaine Command
Vpon th' enraged Souldiers in their spoyle,
As send Precepts to the Leuiathan, to come ashore.
Therefore, you men of Harflew,
Take pitty of your Towne and of your People,
Whiles yet my Souldiers are in my Command,
Whiles yet the coole and temperate Wind of Grace
O're-blowes the filthy and contagious Clouds
Of heady Murther, Spoyle, and Villany.
If not: why in a moment looke to see
The blind and bloody Souldier, with foule hand
Desire the Locks of your shrill-shriking Daughters:
Your Fathers taken by the siluer Beards,
And their most reuerend Heads dasht to the Walls:
Your naked Infants spitted vpon Pykes,
Whiles the mad Mothers, with their howles confus'd,
Doe breake the Clouds; as did the Wiues of Iewry,
At Herods bloody-hunting slaughter-men.
What say you? Will you yeeld, and this auoyd?
Or guiltie in defence, be thus destroy'd.
Enter Gouernour.

Gouer.
Our expectation hath this day an end:
The Dolphin, whom of Succours we entreated,
Returnes vs, that his Powers are yet not ready,
To rayse so great a Siege: Therefore great King,
We yeeld our Towne and Liues to thy soft Mercy:
Enter our Gates, dispose of vs and ours,
For we no longer are defensible.

King.
Open your Gates:
Come Vnckle Exeter,
Goe you and enter Harflew; there remaine,
And fortifie it strongly 'gainst the French:
Vse mercy to them all for vs, deare Vnckle.
The Winter comming on, and Sicknesse growing
Vpon our Souldiers, we will retyre to Calis.
To night in Harflew will we be your Guest,
To morrow for the March are we addrest.
Flourish, and enter the Towne.
Original text
Act III, Scene IV
Enter Katherine and an old Gentlewoman.

Kathe.
Alice, tu as este en Angleterre, & tu bien parlas
le Language.

Alice.
En peu Madame.

Kath.
Ie te prie m' ensigniez, il faut que ie apprend
a parlen: Comient appelle vous le main en Anglois?

Alice.
Le main il & appelle de Hand.

Kath.
De Hand. E le doyts.

Kat.
Le doyts, ma foy Ie oublie, e doyt mays, ie me
souemeray le doyts ie pense qu'ils ont appelle
de fingres, ou de fingres.

Alice.
Le main de Hand, le doyts le Fingres, ie
pense que ie suis le bon escholier. I'ay gaynie diux mots
d' Anglois vistement, coment appelle vous le ongles?

Alice.
Le ongles, les appellons de Nayles.

Kath.
De Nayles escoute: dites moy, si ie parle
bien: de Hand, de Fingres, e de Nayles.

Alice.
C'est bien dict Madame, il & fort bon Anglois.

Kath.
Dites moy l' Anglois pour le bras.

Alice.
De Arme, Madame.

Kath.
E de coudee.

Alice.
D' Elbow.

Kath.
D' Elbow: Ie men fay le repiticio de touts
les mots que vous maves, apprins des a present.

Alice.
Il & trop difficile Madame, comme Ie pense.

Kath.
Excuse moy Alice escoute, d' Hand, de
Fingre, de Nayles, d' Arma, de Bilbow.

Alice.
D' Elbow, Madame.

Kath.
O Seigneur Dieu, ie men oublie d' Elbow,
coment ap-pelle vous le col.

Alice.
De Nick, Madame.

Kath.
De Nick, e le menton.

Alice.
De Chin.

Kath.
De Sin: le col de Nick, le menton de Sin.

Alice.
Ouy. Sauf vostre honneur en verite vous pronouncies
les mots ausi droict, que le Natifs d' Angleterre.

Kath.
Ie ne doute point d' apprendre par de grace
de Dieu, & en peu de temps.

Alice.
N'aue vos y desia oublie ce que ie vous a
ensignie.

Kath.
Nome ie recitera a vous promptement, d' Hand,
de Fingre, de Maylees.

Alice.
De Nayles, Madame.

Kath.
De Nayles, de Arme, de Ilbow.

Alice.
Sans vostre honeus d' Elbow.

Kath.
Ainsi de ie d' Elbow, de Nick, & de Sin:
coment ap-pelle vous les pied & de roba.

Alice.
Le Foot Madame, & le Count.

Kath.
Le Foot, & le Count: O Seignieur Dieu, il
sont le mots de son mauvais corruptible grosse & impudique,
& non pour le Dames de Honeur d' vser: Ie ne
voudray pronouncer ce mots deuant le Seigneurs de
France, pour toute le monde, fo le Foot & le Count,
neant moys, Ie recitera vn autrefoys ma lecon
ensembe, d' Hand, de Fingre, de Nayles, d' Arme, d' Elbow, de
Nick, de Sin, de Foot, le Count.

Alice.
Excellent, Madame.

Kath.
C'est asses pour vne foyes, alons nous a
diner.
Exit.
Original text
Act III, Scene V
Enter the King of France, the Dolphin, the
Constable of France, and others.

King.
'Tis certaine he hath past the Riuer Some.

Const.
And if he be not fought withall, my Lord,
Let vs not liue in France: let vs quit all,
And giue our Vineyards to a barbarous People.
O Dieu viuant: Shall a few Sprayes of vs,
The emptying of our Fathers Luxurie,
Our Syens, put in wilde and sauage Stock,
Spirt vp so suddenly into the Clouds,
And ouer-looke their Grafters?

Brit.
Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards:
Mort du ma vie, if they march along
Vnfought withall, but I will sell my Dukedome,
To buy a slobbry and a durtie Farme
In that nooke-shotten Ile of Albion.

Const.
Dieu de Battailes, where haue they this mettell?
Is not their Clymate foggy, raw, and dull?
On whom, as in despight, the Sunne lookes pale,
Killing their Fruit with frownes. Can sodden Water,
A Drench for sur-reyn'd Iades, their Barly broth,
Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat?
And shall our quick blood, spirited with Wine,
Seeme frostie? O, for honor of our Land,
Let vs not hang like roping Isyckles
Vpon our Houses Thatch, whiles a more frostie People
Sweat drops of gallant Youth in our rich fields:
Poore we call them, in their Natiue Lords.

Dolphin.
By Faith and Honor,
Our Madames mock at vs, and plainely say,
Our Mettell is bred out, and they will giue
Their bodyes to the Lust of English Youth,
To new-store France with Bastard Warriors.

Brit.
They bid vs to the English Dancing-Schooles,
And teach Lauolta's high, and swift Carranto's,
Saying, our Grace is onely in our Heeles,
And that we are most loftie Run-awayes.

King.
Where is Montioy the Herald? speed him hence,
Let him greet England with our sharpe defiance.
Vp Princes, and with spirit of Honor edged,
More sharper then your Swords, high to the field:
Charles Delabreth, High Constable of France,
You Dukes of Orleance, Burbon, and of Berry,
Alanson, Brabant, Bar, and Burgonie,
Iaques Chattillion, Rambures, Vandemont,
Beumont, Grand Pree, Roussi, and Faulconbridge,
Loys, Lestrale, Bouciquall, and Charaloyes,
High Dukes, great Princes, Barons, Lords, and Kings;
For your great Seats, now quit you of great shames:
Barre Harry England, that sweepes through our Land
With Penons painted in the blood of Harflew:
Rush on his Hoast, as doth the melted Snow
Vpon the Valleyes, whose low Vassall Seat,
The Alpes doth spit, and void his rhewme vpon.
Goe downe vpon him, you haue Power enough,
And in a Captiue Chariot, into Roan
Bring him our Prisoner.

Const.
This becomes the Great.
Sorry am I his numbers are so few,
His Souldiers sick, and famisht in their March:
For I am sure, when he shall see our Army,
Hee'le drop his heart into the sinck of feare,
And for atchieuement, offer vs his Ransome.

King.
Therefore Lord Constable, hast on Montioy,
And let him say to England, that we send,
To know what willing Ransome he will giue.
Prince Dolphin, you shall stay with vs in Roan.

Dolph.
Not so, I doe beseech your Maiestie.

King.
Be patient, for you shall remaine with vs.
Now forth Lord Constable, and Princes all,
And quickly bring vs word of Englands fall.
Exeunt.
Original text
Act III, Scene VI
Enter Captaines, English and Welch, Gower and Fluellen.

Gower.
How now Captaine Fluellen, come you from the
Bridge?

Flu.
I assure you, there is very excellent Seruices
committed at the Bridge.

Gower.
Is the Duke of Exeter safe?

Flu.
The Duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as
Agamemnon, and a man that I loue and honour with my
soule, and my heart, and my dutie, and my liue, and my
liuing, and my vttermost power. He is not, God be
praysed and blessed, any hurt in the World, but keepes
the Bridge most valiantly, with excellent discipline.
There is an aunchient Lieutenant there at the Pridge, I
thinke in my very conscience hee is as valiant a man as
Marke Anthony, and hee is a man of no estimation in the
World, but I did see him doe as gallant seruice.

Gower.
What doe you call him?

Flu.
Hee is call'd aunchient Pistoll.

Gower.
I know him not.
Enter Pistoll.

Flu.
Here is the man.

Pist.
Captaine, I thee beseech to doe me fauours:
the Duke of Exeter doth loue thee well.

Flu.
I, I prayse God, and I haue merited some loue
at his hands.

Pist.
Bardolph, a Souldier firme and sound of heart,
and of buxome valour, hath by cruell Fate,
and giddie Fortunes furious fickle Wheele,
that Goddesse blind,
that stands vpon the rolling restlesse Stone.

Flu.
By your patience, aunchient Pistoll: Fortune
is painted blinde, with a Muffler afore his eyes, to signifie
to you, that Fortune is blinde; and shee is painted also
with a Wheele, to signifie to you, which is the Morall of it,
that shee is turning and inconstant, and mutabilitie, and
variation: and her foot, looke you, is fixed vpon a
Sphericall Stone, which rowles, and rowles, and rowles: in
good truth, the Poet makes a most excellent description
of it: Fortune is an excellent Morall.

Pist.
Fortune is Bardolphs foe, and frownes on him:
for he hath stolne a Pax, and hanged must a be:
a damned death:
let Gallowes gape for Dogge, let Man goe free,
and let not Hempe his Wind-pipe suffocate:
but Exeter hath giuen the doome of death,
for Pax of little price.
Therefore goe speake, the Duke will heare thy voyce;
and let not Bardolphs vitall thred bee cut
with edge of Penny-Cord, and vile reproach.
Speake Captaine for his Life, and I will thee requite.

Flu.
Aunchient Pistoll, I doe partly vnderstand your
meaning.

Pist.
Why then reioyce therefore.

Flu.
Certainly Aunchient, it is not a thing to
reioyce at: for if, looke you, he were my Brother, I would
desire the Duke to vse his good pleasure, and put him to
execution; for discipline ought to be vsed.

Pist.
Dye, and be dam'd, and Figo for thy friendship.

Flu.
It is well.

Pist.
The Figge of Spaine.
Exit.

Flu.
Very good.

Gower.
Why, this is an arrant counterfeit Rascall, I
remember him now: a Bawd, a Cut-purse.

Flu.
Ile assure you, a vtt'red as praue words at
the Pridge, as you shall see in a Summers day: but it is
very well: what he ha's spoke to me, that is well I
warrant you, when time is serue.

Gower.
Why 'tis a Gull, a Foole, a Rogue, that now and then
goes to the Warres, to grace himselfe at his returne into
London, vnder the forme of a Souldier: and such fellowes
are perfit in the Great Commanders Names, and they
will learne you by rote where Seruices were done; at such
and such a Sconce, at such a Breach, at such a Conuoy:
who came off brauely, who was shot, who disgrac'd,
what termes the Enemy stood on: and this they conne
perfitly in the phrase of Warre; which they tricke vp with
new-tuned Oathes: and what a Beard of the Generalls
Cut, and a horride Sute of the Campe, will doe among foming
Bottles, and Ale-washt Wits, is wonderfull to be thought
on: but you must learne to know such slanders of the
age, or else you may be maruellously mistooke.

Flu.
I tell you what, Captaine Gower: I doe perceiue
hee is not the man that hee would gladly make shew to
the World hee is: if I finde a hole in his Coat, I will tell
him my minde: hearke you, the King is
comming, and I must speake with him from the Pridge.
Drum and Colours. Enter the King and his poore
Souldiers
God plesse your Maiestie.

King.
How now Fluellen, cam'st thou from the Bridge?

Flu.
I, so please your Maiestie: The Duke of
Exeter ha's very gallantly maintain'd the Pridge; the
French is gone off, looke you, and there is gallant and
most praue passages: marry, th' athuersarie was haue
possession of the Pridge, but he is enforced to retyre,
and the Duke of Exeter is Master of the Pridge: I can
tell your Maiestie, the Duke is a praue man.

King.
What men haue you lost, Fluellen?

Flu.
The perdition of th' athuersarie hath beene very
great, reasonnable great: marry for my part, I thinke the
Duke hath lost neuer a man, but one that is like to be
executed for robbing a Church, one Bardolph, if your
Maiestie know the man: his face is all bubukles and
whelkes, and knobs, and flames a fire, and his lippes blowes
at his nose, and it is like a coale of fire, sometimes plew,
and sometimes red, but his nose is executed, and his
fire's out.

King.
Wee would haue all such offendors so cut
off: and we giue expresse charge, that in our Marches
through the Countrey, there be nothing compell'd from
the Villages; nothing taken, but pay'd for: none of the
French vpbrayded or abused in disdainefull Language;
for when Leuitie and Crueltie play for a Kingdome, the
gentler Gamester is the soonest winner.
Tucket. Enter Mountioy.

Mountioy.
You know me by my habit.

King.
Well then, I know thee: what shall I know
of thee?

Mountioy.
My Masters mind.

King.
Vnfold it.

Mountioy.
Thus sayes my King: Say thou to Harry of
England, Though we seem'd dead, we did but sleepe:
Aduantage is a better Souldier then rashnesse. Tell him,
wee could haue rebuk'd him at Harflewe, but that wee
thought not good to bruise an iniurie, till it were full
ripe. Now wee speake vpon our Q. and our voyce is
imperiall: England shall repent his folly, see his weakenesse,
and admire our sufferance. Bid him therefore consider
of his ransome, which must proportion the losses we
haue borne, the subiects we haue lost, the disgrace we
haue digested; which in weight to re-answer, his pettinesse
would bow vnder. For our losses, his Exchequer is
too poore; for th' effusion of our bloud, the Muster of his
Kingdome too faint a number; and for our disgrace, his
owne person kneeling at our feet, but a weake and worthlesse
satisfaction. To this adde defiance: and tell him for
conclusion, he hath betrayed his followers, whose
condemnation is pronounc't: So farre my King and
Master; so much my Office.

King.
What is thy name? I know thy qualitie.

Mount.
Mountioy.

King.
Thou doo'st thy Office fairely. Turne thee backe,
And tell thy King, I doe not seeke him now,
But could be willing to march on to Callice,
Without impeachment: for to say the sooth,
Though 'tis no wisdome to confesse so much
Vnto an enemie of Craft and Vantage,
My people are with sicknesse much enfeebled,
My numbers lessen'd: and those few I haue,
Almost no better then so many French;
Who when they were in health, I tell thee Herald,
I thought, vpon one payre of English Legges
Did march three Frenchmen. Yet forgiue me God,
That I doe bragge thus; this your ayre of France
Hath blowne that vice in me. I must repent:
Goe therefore tell thy Master, heere I am;
My Ransome, is this frayle and worthlesse Trunke;
My Army, but a weake and sickly Guard:
Yet God before, tell him we will come on,
Though France himselfe, and such another Neighbor
Stand in our way. There's for thy labour Mountioy.
Goe bid thy Master well aduise himselfe.
If we may passe, we will: if we be hindred,
We shall your tawnie ground with your red blood
Discolour: and so Mountioy, fare you well.
The summe of all our Answer is but this:
We would not seeke a Battaile as we are,
Nor as we are, we say we will not shun it:
So tell your Master.

Mount.
I shall deliuer so: Thankes to your Highnesse.

Glouc.
I hope they will not come vpon vs now.

King.
We are in Gods hand, Brother, not in theirs:
March to the Bridge, it now drawes toward night,
Beyond the Riuer wee'le encampe our selues,
And on to morrow bid them march away.
Exeunt.
Original text
Act III, Scene VII
Enter the Constable of France, the Lord Ramburs,
Orleance, Dolphin, with others.

Const.
Tut, I haue the best Armour of the World:
would it were day.

Orleance.
You haue an excellent Armour: but let my Horse
haue his due.

Const.
It is the best Horse of Europe.

Orleance.
Will it neuer be Morning?

Dolph.
My Lord of Orleance, and my Lord High
Constable, you talke of Horse and Armour?

Orleance.
You are as well prouided of both, as any Prince
in the World.

Dolph.
What a long Night is this? I will not change my
Horse with any that treades but on foure postures: ch'ha:
he bounds from the Earth, as if his entrayles were hayres:
le Cheual volante, the Pegasus, ches les narines de feu.
When I bestryde him, I soare, I am a Hawke: he trots the
ayre: the Earth sings, when he touches it: the basest horne
of his hoofe, is more Musicall then the Pipe of Hermes

Orleance.
Hee's of the colour of the Nutmeg.

Dolph.
And of the heat of the Ginger. It is a Beast for
Perseus: hee is pure Ayre and Fire; and the dull Elements
of Earth and Water neuer appeare in him, but only in
patient stillnesse while his Rider mounts him: hee is
indeede a Horse, and all other Iades you may call Beasts.

Const.
Indeed my Lord, it is a most absolute and
excellent Horse.

Dolph.
It is the Prince of Palfrayes, his Neigh is like the
bidding of a Monarch, and his countenance enforces
Homage.

Orleance.
No more Cousin.

Dolph.
Nay, the man hath no wit, that cannot from the
rising of the Larke to the lodging of the Lambe, varie
deserued prayse on my Palfray: it is a Theame as fluent as
the Sea: Turne the Sands into eloquent tongues, and my
Horse is argument for them all: 'tis a subiect for a
Soueraigne to reason on, and for a Soueraignes Soueraigne
to ride on: And for the World, familiar to vs, and
vnknowne, to lay apart their particular Functions, and
wonder at him, I once writ a Sonnet in his prayse, and
began thus, Wonder of Nature.

Orleance.
I haue heard a Sonnet begin so to ones Mistresse.

Dolph.
Then did they imitate that which I compos'd
to my Courser, for my Horse is my Mistresse.

Orleance.
Your Mistresse beares well.

Dolph.
Me well, which is the prescript prayse and
perfection of a good and particular Mistresse.

Const.
Nay, for me thought yesterday your Mistresse
shrewdly shooke your back.

Dolph.
So perhaps did yours.

Const.
Mine was not bridled.

Dolph.
O then belike she was old and gentle, and you
rode like a Kerne of Ireland, your French Hose off, and in
your strait Strossers.

Const.
You haue good iudgement in Horsemanship.

Dolph.
Be warn'd by me then: they that ride so, and
ride not warily, fall into foule Boggs: I had rather haue my
Horse to my Mistresse.

Const.
I had as liue haue my Mistresse a Iade.

Dolph.
I tell thee Constable, my Mistresse weares his
owne hayre.

Const.
I could make as true a boast as that, if I had
a Sow to my Mistresse.

Dolph.
Le chien est retourne a son propre vemissement
estla leuye lauee au bourbier: thou mak'st vse of any thing.

Const.
Yet doe I not vse my Horse for my Mistresse, or
any such Prouerbe, so little kin to the purpose.

Ramb.
My Lord Constable, the Armour that I saw
in your Tent to night, are those Starres or Sunnes vpon it?

Const.
Starres my Lord.

Dolph.
Some of them will fall to morrow, I hope.

Const.
And yet my Sky shall not want.

Dolph.
That may be, for you beare a many superfluously,
and 'twere more honor some were away.

Const.
Eu'n as your Horse beares your prayses,
who would trot as well, were some of your bragges
dismounted.

Dolph.
Would I were able to loade him with his desert.
Will it neuer be day? I will trot to morrow a mile, and
my way shall be paued with English Faces.

Const.
I will not say so, for feare I should be fac't
out of my way: but I would it were morning, for I
would faine be about the eares of the English.

Ramb.
Who will goe to Hazard with me for twentie
Prisoners?

Const.
You must first goe your selfe to hazard, ere you
haue them.

Dolph.
'Tis Mid-night, Ile goe arme my selfe.
Exit.

Orleance.
The Dolphin longs for morning.

Ramb.
He longs to eate the English.

Const.
I thinke he will eate all he kills.

Orleance.
By the white Hand of my Lady, hee's a gallant
Prince.

Const.
Sweare by her Foot, that she may tread out
the Oath.

Orleance.
He is simply the most actiue Gentleman of
France.

Const.
Doing is actiuitie, and he will still be doing.

Orleance.
He neuer did harme, that I heard of.

Const.
Nor will doe none to morrow: hee will keepe that
good name still.

Orleance.
I know him to be valiant.

Const.
I was told that, by one that knowes him better
then you.

Orleance.
What's hee?

Const.
Marry hee told me so himselfe, and hee sayd hee
car'd not who knew it.

Orleance.
Hee needes not, it is no hidden vertue in him.

Const.
By my faith Sir, but it is: neuer any body
saw it, but his Lacquey: 'tis a hooded valour, and when it
appeares, it will bate.

Orleance.
Ill will neuer sayd well.

Const.
I will cap that Prouerbe with, There is flatterie
in friendship.

Orleance.
And I will take vp that with, Giue the Deuill his
due.

Const.
Well plac't: there stands your friend for the
Deuill: haue at the very eye of that Prouerbe with, A Pox
of the Deuill.

Orleance.
You are the better at Prouerbs, by how much a
Fooles Bolt is soone shot.

Const.
You haue shot ouer.

Orleance.
'Tis not the first time you were ouer-shot.
Enter a Messenger.

Mess.
My Lord high Constable, the English lye
within fifteene hundred paces of your Tents.

Const.
Who hath measur'd the ground?

Mess.
The Lord Grandpree.

Const.
A valiant and most expert Gentleman. Would
it were day? Alas poore Harry of England: hee longs not
for the Dawning, as wee doe.

Orleance.
What a wretched and peeuish fellow is this King
of England, to mope with his fat-brain'd followers so farre
out of his knowledge.

Const.
If the English had any apprehension, they
would runne away.

Orleance.
That they lack: for if their heads had any
intellectuall Armour, they could neuer weare such heauie
Head-pieces.

Ramb.
That Iland of England breedes very valiant
Creatures; their Mastiffes are of vnmatchable courage.

Orleance.
Foolish Curres, that runne winking into the mouth
of a Russian Beare, and haue their heads crusht like
rotten Apples: you may as well say, that's a valiant Flea,
that dare eate his breakefast on the Lippe of a Lyon.

Const.
Iust, iust: and the men doe sympathize with
the Mastiffes, in robustious and rough comming on,
leauing their Wits with their Wiues: and then giue them
great Meales of Beefe, and Iron and Steele; they will eate
like Wolues, and fight like Deuils.

Orleance.
I, but these English are shrowdly out of Beefe.

Const.
Then shall we finde to morrow, they haue only
stomackes to eate, and none to fight. Now is it time to
arme: come, shall we about it?

Orleance.
It is now two a Clock: but let me see, by ten
Wee shall haue each a hundred English men.
Exeunt.
Modern text
Flourish. Enter Chorus

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

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

BARDOLPH
On, on, on, on, on! To the breach, to the
breach!

NYM
Pray thee, corporal, stay – the knocks are too hot,
and, for mine own part, I have not a case of lives. The
humour of it is too hot, that is the very plainsong of it.

PISTOL
The plainsong is most just; for humours do abound.
Knocks go and come; God's vassals drop and die;
And sword and shield,
In bloody field,
Doth win immortal fame.

BOY
Would I were in an alehouse in London! I would
give all my fame for a pot of ale, and safety.

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

BOY
As duly,
But not as truly,
As bird doth sing on bough.
Enter Fluellen

FLUELLEN
Up to the breach, you dogs! Avaunt, you
cullions!
He drives them forward

PISTOL
Be merciful, great Duke, to men of mould!
Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage,
Abate thy rage, great Duke!
Good bawcock, bate thy rage! Use lenity, sweet chuck!

NYM
These be good humours! Your honour wins bad
humours.
Exeunt all but the Boy

BOY
As young as I am, I have observed these three
swashers. I am boy to them all three, but all they three,
though they would serve me, could not be man to me;
for indeed three such antics do not amount to a man.
For Bardolph, he is white-livered and red-faced; by
the means whereof 'a faces it out, but fights not. For
Pistol, he hath a killing tongue, and a quiet sword; by
the means whereof 'a breaks words, and keeps whole
weapons. For Nym, he hath heard that men of few
words are the best men; and therefore he scorns to say
his prayers, lest 'a should be thought a coward; but his
few bad words are matched with as few good deeds, for
'a never broke any man's head but his own, and that
was against a post, when he was drunk. They will steal
anything, and call it purchase. Bardolph stole a lute-case,
bore it twelve leagues, and sold it for three halfpence.
Nym and Bardolph are sworn brothers in filching,
and in Calais they stole a fire-shovel – I knew by that
piece of service the men would carry coals. They would
have me as familiar with men's pockets as their gloves
or their handkerchers: which makes much against my
manhood, if I should take from another's pocket to
put into mine; for it is plain pocketing up of wrongs. I
must leave them, and seek some better service. Their
villainy goes against my weak stomach, and therefore
I must cast it up.
Exit
Enter Fluellen, Gower following

GOWER
Captain Fluellen, you must come presently to
the mines. The Duke of Gloucester would speak with you.

FLUELLEN
To the mines? Tell you the Duke, it is not so
good to come to the mines, for, look you, the mines is
not according to the disciplines of the war. The
concavities of it is not sufficient; for, look you, th' athversary,
you may discuss unto the Duke, look you, is digt himself
four yard under the countermines. By Cheshu, I
think 'a will plow up all, if there is not better directions.

GOWER
The Duke of Gloucester, to whom the order of the
siege is given, is altogether directed by an Irishman, a
very valiant gentleman, i'faith.

FLUELLEN
It is Captain Macmorris, is it not?

GOWER
I think it be.

FLUELLEN
By Cheshu, he is an ass, as in the world; I
will verify as much in his beard. He has no more
directions in the true disciplines of the wars, look you,
of the Roman disciplines, than is a puppy-dog.
Enter Captain Macmorris and Captain Jamy

GOWER
Here 'a comes, and the Scots captain, Captain
Jamy, with him.

FLUELLEN
Captain Jamy is a marvellous falorous gentleman,
that is certain, and of great expedition and
knowledge in th' aunchient wars, upon my particular
knowledge of his directions. By Cheshu, he will maintain
his argument as well as any military man in the world, in
the disciplines of the pristine wars of the Romans.

JAMY
I say gud-day, Captain Fluellen.

FLUELLEN
Good-e'en to your worship, good Captain
James.

GOWER
How now, Captain Macmorris, have you quit the
mines? Have the pioneers given o'er?

MACMORRIS
By Chrish, la, 'tish ill done! The work ish
give over, the trompet sound the retreat. By my hand
I swear, and my father's soul, the work ish ill done: it
ish give over. I would have blowed up the town, so
Chrish save me, la, in an hour. O, tish ill done, 'tish ill
done – by my hand, 'tish ill done!

FLUELLEN
Captain Macmorris, I beseech you now, will
you voutsafe me, look you, a few disputations with you,
as partly touching or concerning the disciplines of the
war, the Roman wars, in the way of argument, look you,
and friendly communication? – partly to satisfy my
opinion, and partly for the satisfaction, look you, of my
mind – as touching the direction of the military discipline,
that is the point.

JAMY
It sall be vary gud, gud feith, gud captens bath, and
I sall quit you with gud leve, as I may pick occasion: that
sall I, marry.

MACMORRIS
It is no time to discourse, so Chrish save me!
The day is hot, and the weather, and the wars, and the
King, and the Dukes – it is no time to discourse, the
town is beseeched, and the trumpet call us to the breach,
and we talk, and, be Chrish, do nothing; 'tis shame for us
all: so God sa' me, 'tis shame to stand still; it is shame, by
my hand – and there is throats to be cut, and works to be
done, and there ish nothing done, so Chrish sa' me, la!

JAMY
By the mess, ere theise eyes of mine take themselves
to slomber, ay'll de gud service, or ay'll lig
i'th' grund for it, ay, or go to death! And ay'll pay't as
valorously as I may, that sall I suerly do, that is the
breff and the long. Marry, I wad full fain hear some
question 'tween you tway.

FLUELLEN
Captain Macmorris, I think, look you, under
your correction, there is not many of your nation –

MACMORRIS
Of my nation? What ish my nation? Ish a
villain, and a bastard, and a knave, and a rascal. What
ish my nation? Who talks of my nation?

FLUELLEN
Look you, if you take the matter otherwise
than is meant, Captain Macmorris, peradventure I shall
think you do not use me with that affability as in
discretion you ought to use me, look you, being as good a
man as yourself, both in the disciplines of war, and in
the derivation of my birth, and in other particularities.

MACMORRIS
I do not know you so good a man as myself.
So Chrish save me, I will cut off your head.

GOWER
Gentlemen both, you will mistake each other.

JAMY
Ah, that's a foul fault!
A parley is sounded

GOWER
The town sounds a parley.

FLUELLEN
Captain Macmorris, when there is more
better opportunity to be required, look you, I will be
so bold as to tell you, I know the disciplines of war; and
there is an end.
Exeunt
Modern text
Act III, Scene III
Some citizens of Harfleur appear on the walls. Enter
the King and all his train before the gates

KING HENRY
How yet resolves the Governor of the town?
This is the latest parle we will admit:
Therefore to our best mercy give yourselves,
Or, like to men proud of destruction,
Defy us to our worst; for, as I am a soldier,
A name that in my thoughts becomes me best,
If I begin the battery once again,
I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur
Till in her ashes she lie buried.
The gates of mercy shall be all shut up,
And the fleshed soldier, rough and hard of heart,
In liberty of bloody hand shall range
With conscience wide as hell, mowing like grass
Your fresh fair virgins, and your flowering infants.
What is it then to me, if impious war,
Arrayed in flames, like to the prince of fiends,
Do, with his smirched complexion, all fell feats
Enlinked to waste and desolation?
What is't to me, when you yourselves are cause,
If your pure maidens fall into the hand
Of hot and forcing violation?
What rein can hold licentious wickedness
When down the hill he holds his fierce career?
We may as bootless spend our vain command
Upon th' enraged soldiers in their spoil
As send precepts to the leviathan
To come ashore. Therefore, you men of Harfleur,
Take pity of your town and of your people
Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command,
Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace
O'erblows the filthy and contagious clouds
Of heady murder, spoil, and villainy.
If not, why, in a moment look to see
The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand
Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters;
Your fathers taken by the silver beards,
And their most reverend heads dashed to the walls;
Your naked infants spitted upon pikes,
Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confused
Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry
At Herod's bloody-hunting slaughtermen.
What say you? Will you yield, and this avoid?
Or, guilty in defence, be thus destroyed?
Enter the Governor on the wall

GOVERNOR
Our expectation hath this day an end.
The Dauphin, whom of succours we entreated,
Returns us that his powers are yet not ready
To raise so great a siege. Therefore, great King,
We yield our town and lives to thy soft mercy.
Enter our gates, dispose of us and ours,
For we no longer are defensible.

KING HENRY
Open your gates.
Exit Governor
Come, uncle Exeter,
Go you and enter Harfleur; there remain,
And fortify it strongly 'gainst the French.
Use mercy to them all. For us, dear uncle,
The winter coming on, and sickness growing
Upon our soldiers, we will retire to Calais.
Tonight in Harfleur will we be your guest;
Tomorrow for the march are we addressed.
Flourish, and enter the town
Modern text
Act III, Scene IV
Enter Katherine and Alice, an old gentlewoman

KATHERINE
Alice, tu as été en Angleterre, et tu parles
bien le langage.

ALICE
Un peu, madame.

KATHERINE
Je te prie, m'enseignez – il faut que j'apprenne
à parler. Comment appelez-vous la main en anglais?

ALICE
La main? Elle est appelée de hand.

KATHERINE
De hand. Et les doigts?

ALICE
Les doigts? Ma foi, j'oublie les doigts, mais je me
souviendrai. Les doigts? Je pense qu'ils sont appelés
de fingres; oui, de fingres.

KATHERINE
La main, de hand; les doigts, de fingres. Je
pense que je suis le bon écolier; j'ai gagné deux mots
d'anglais vitement. Comment appelez-vous les ongles?

ALICE
Les ongles? Nous les appelons de nailès.

KATHERINE
De nailès. Écoutez: dites-moi si je parle
bien – de hand, de fingres, et de nailès.

ALICE
C'est bien dit, madame. Il est fort bon anglais.

KATHERINE
Dites-moi l'anglais pour le bras.

ALICE
De arm, madame.

KATHERINE
Et le coude?

ALICE
D'elbow.

KATHERINE
D'elbow. Je m'en fais la répétition de tous
les mots que vous m'avez appris dès à présent.

ALICE
Il est trop difficile, madame, comme je pense.

KATHERINE
Excusez-moi, Alice; écoutez – d'hand, de
fingre, de nailès, d'arma, de bilbow.

ALICE
D'elbow, madame.

KATHERINE
O Seigneur Dieu, je m'en oublie! D'elbow.
Comment appelez-vous le col?

ALICE
De nick, madame.

KATHERINE
De nick. Et le menton?

ALICE
De chin.

KATHERINE
De sin. Le col, de nick; le menton, de sin.

ALICE
Oui. Sauf votre honneur, en vérité, vous prononcez
les mots aussi droit que les natifs d'Angleterre.

KATHERINE
Je ne doute point d'apprendre, par la grace
de Dieu, et en peu de temps.

ALICE
N'avez vous pas déjà oublié ce que je vous ai
enseigné?

KATHERINE
Non, je réciterai à vous promptement: d'hand,
de fingre, de mailès –

ALICE
De nailès, madame.

KATHERINE
De nailès, de arm, de ilbow –

ALICE
Sauf votre honneur, d'elbow.

KATHERINE
Ainsi dis-je: d'elbow, de nick, et de sin.
Comment appelez-vous le pied et la robe?

ALICE
Le foot, madame, et le count.

KATHERINE
Le foot, et le count? O Seigneur Dieu! Ils
sont mots de son mauvais, corruptible, gros, et impudique,
et non pour les dames d'honneur d'user. Je ne
voudrais prononcer ces mots devant les seigneurs de
France pour tout le monde. Foh! Le foot et le count!
Néanmoins, je réciterai une autre fois ma leçon
ensemble: d'hand, de fingre, de nailès, d'arm, d'elbow, de
nick, de sin, de foot, le count.

ALICE
Excellent, madame!

KATHERINE
C'est assez pour une fois. Allons-nous à
dîner.
Exeunt
Modern text
Act III, Scene V
Enter the King of France, the Dauphin, the Duke of
Britaine, the Constable of France, and others

FRENCH KING
'Tis certain he hath passed the River Somme.

CONSTABLE
And if he be not fought withal, my lord,
Let us not live in France: let us quit all,
And give our vineyards to a barbarous people.

DAUPHIN
O Dieu vivant! Shall a few sprays of us,
The emptying of our fathers' luxury,
Our scions, put in wild and savage stock,
Spirt up so suddenly into the clouds,
And overlook their grafters?

BRITAINE
Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards!
Mort Dieu! Ma vie! If they march along
Unfought withal, but I will sell my dukedom
To buy a slobbery and a dirty farm
In that nook-shotten isle of Albion.

CONSTABLE
Dieu de batailles! Where have they this mettle?
Is not their climate foggy, raw, and dull,
On whom, as in despite, the sun looks pale,
Killing their fruit with frowns? Can sodden water,
A drench for sur-reined jades, their barley broth,
Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat?
And shall our quick blood, spirited with wine,
Seem frosty? O, for honour of our land,
Let us not hang like roping icicles
Upon our houses' thatch, whiles a more frosty people
Sweat drops of gallant youth in our rich fields! –
Lest poor we call them in their native lords.

DAUPHIN
By faith and honour,
Our madams mock at us, and plainly say
Our mettle is bred out, and they will give
Their bodies to the lust of English youth,
To new-store France with bastard warriors.

BRITAINE
They bid us to the English dancing-schools,
And teach lavoltas high and swift corantos,
Saying our grace is only in our heels,
And that we are most lofty runaways.

FRENCH KING
Where is Montjoy the Herald? Speed him hence,
Let him greet England with our sharp defiance.
Up, Princes, and with spirit of honour edged,
More sharper than your swords, hie to the field!
Charles Delabreth, High Constable of France,
You Dukes of Orleans, Bourbon, and of Berri,
Alençon, Brabant, Bar, and Burgundy,
Jaques Chatillon, Rambures, Vaudemont,
Beaumont, Grandpré, Roussi, and Faulconbridge,
Foix, Lestrake, Bouciqualt, and Charolois,
High Dukes, great Princes, Barons, Lords and Knights,
For your great seats, now quit you of great shames.
Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our land
With pennons painted in the blood of Harfleur!
Rush on his host, as doth the melted snow
Upon the valleys, whose low vassal seat
The Alps doth spit and void his rheum upon!
Go down upon him, you have power enough,
And in a captive chariot into Rouen
Bring him our prisoner.

CONSTABLE
This becomes the great.
Sorry am I his numbers are so few,
His soldiers sick, and famished in their march;
For I am sure, when he shall see our army,
He'll drop his heart into the sink of fear,
And for achievement offer us his ransom.

FRENCH KING
Therefore, Lord Constable, haste on Montjoy,
And let him say to England that we send
To know what willing ransom he will give.
Prince Dauphin, you shall stay with us in Rouen.

DAUPHIN
Not so, I do beseech your majesty.

FRENCH KING
Be patient, for you shall remain with us.
Now forth, Lord Constable, and Princes all,
And quickly bring us word of England's fall.
Exeunt
Modern text
Act III, Scene VI
Enter Captains, English and Welsh (Gower and Fluellen)

GOWER
How now, Captain Fluellen? Come you from the
bridge?

FLUELLEN
I assure you, there is very excellent services
committed at the bridge.

GOWER
Is the Duke of Exeter safe?

FLUELLEN
The Duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as
Agamemnon, and a man that I love and honour with my
soul, and my heart, and my duty, and my live, and my
living, and my uttermost power. He is not – God be
praised and blessed! – any hurt in the world, but keeps
the bridge most valiantly, with excellent discipline.
There is an aunchient lieutenant there at the pridge, I
think in my very conscience he is as valiant a man as
Mark Antony, and he is a man of no estimation in the
world, but I did see him do as gallant service.

GOWER
What do you call him?

FLUELLEN
He is called Aunchient Pistol.

GOWER
I know him not.
Enter Pistol

FLUELLEN
Here is the man.

PISTOL
Captain, I thee beseech to do me favours.
The Duke of Exeter doth love thee well.

FLUELLEN
Ay, I praise God, and I have merited some love
at his hands.

PISTOL
Bardolph, a soldier firm and sound of heart,
And of buxom valour, hath, by cruel fate,
And giddy Fortune's furious fickle wheel,
That goddess blind,
That stands upon the rolling restless stone –

FLUELLEN
By your patience, Aunchient Pistol: Fortune
is painted blind, with a muffler afore her eyes, to signify
to you that Fortune is blind; and she is painted also
with a wheel, to signify to you, which is the moral of it,
that she is turning, and inconstant, and mutability, and
variation; and her foot, look you, is fixed upon a
spherical stone, which rolls, and rolls, and rolls. In
good truth, the poet makes a most excellent description
of it: Fortune is an excellent moral.

PISTOL
Fortune is Bardolph's foe, and frowns on him;
For he hath stolen a pax, and hanged must 'a be –
A damned death!
Let gallows gape for dog; let man go free,
And let not hemp his windpipe suffocate.
But Exeter hath given the doom of death
For pax of little price.
Therefore go speak – the Duke will hear thy voice;
And let not Bardolph's vital thread be cut
With edge of penny cord and vile reproach.
Speak, Captain, for his life, and I will thee requite.

FLUELLEN
Aunchient Pistol, I do partly understand your
meaning.

PISTOL
Why then, rejoice therefor!

FLUELLEN
Certainly, Aunchient, it is not a thing to
rejoice at, for if, look you, he were my brother, I would
desire the Duke to use his good pleasure, and put him to
execution; for discipline ought to be used.

PISTOL
Die and be damned! and figo for thy friendship.

FLUELLEN
It is well.

PISTOL
The fig of Spain!
Exit

FLUELLEN
Very good.

GOWER
Why, this is an arrant counterfeit rascal, I
remember him now – a bawd, a cutpurse.

FLUELLEN
I'll assure you, 'a uttered as prave words at
the pridge as you shall see in a summer's day. But it is
very well; what he has spoke to me, that is well, I
warrant you, when time is serve.

GOWER
Why, 'tis a gull, a fool, a rogue, that now and then
goes to the wars, to grace himself at his return into
London under the form of a soldier. And such fellows
are perfect in the great commanders' names, and they
will learn you by rote where services were done; at such
and such a sconce, at such a breach, at such a convoy;
who came off bravely, who was shot, who disgraced,
what terms the enemy stood on; and this they con
perfectly in the phrase of war, which they trick up with
new-tuned oaths: and what a beard of the general's
cut and a horrid suit of the camp will do among foaming
bottles and ale-washed wits, is wonderful to be thought
on. But you must learn to know such slanders of the
age, or else you may be marvellously mistook.

FLUELLEN
I tell you what, Captain Gower; I do perceive
he is not the man that he would gladly make show to
the world he is. If I find a hole in his coat, I will tell
him my mind. (Drum within) Hark you, the King is
coming, and I must speak with him from the pridge.
Drum and colours. Enter the King and his poor
soldiers, with Gloucester
God pless your majesty!

KING HENRY
How now, Fluellen, cam'st thou from the bridge?

FLUELLEN
Ay, so please your majesty. The Duke of
Exeter has very gallantly maintained the pridge. The
French is gone off, look you, and there is gallant and
most prave passages. Marry, th' athversary was have
possession of the pridge, but he is enforced to retire,
and the Duke of Exeter is master of the pridge. I can
tell your majesty, the Duke is a prave man.

KING HENRY
What men have you lost, Fluellen?

FLUELLEN
The perdition of th' athversary hath been very
great, reasonable great. Marry, for my part, I think the
Duke hath lost never a man, but one that is like to be
executed for robbing a church, one Bardolph, if your
majesty know the man: his face is all bubukles, and
whelks, and knobs, and flames o' fire; and his lips blows
at his nose, and it is like a coal of fire, sometimes plue,
and sometimes red; but his nose is executed, and his
fire's out.

KING HENRY
We would have all such offenders so cut
off: and we give express charge, that in our marches
through the country, there be nothing compelled from
the villages, nothing taken but paid for, none of the
French upbraided or abused in disdainful language;
for when lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom, the
gentler gamester is the soonest winner.
Tucket. Enter Montjoy

MONTJOY
You know me by my habit.

KING HENRY
Well then, I know thee: what shall I know
of thee?

MONTJOY
My master's mind.

KING HENRY
Unfold it.

MONTJOY
Thus says my King: ‘ Say thou to Harry of
England, Though we seemed dead, we did but sleep.
Advantage is a better soldier than rashness. Tell him
we could have rebuked him at Harfleur, but that we
thought not good to bruise an injury till it were full
ripe. Now we speak upon our cue, and our voice is
imperial: England shall repent his folly, see his weakness,
and admire our sufferance. Bid him therefore consider
of his ransom, which must proportion the losses we
have borne, the subjects we have lost, the disgrace we
have digested; which in weight to re-answer, his pettiness
would bow under. For our losses, his exchequer is
too poor; for th' effusion of our blood, the muster of his
kingdom too faint a number; and for our disgrace, his
own person kneeling at our feet but a weak and worthless
satisfaction. To this add defiance: and tell him for
conclusion, he hath betrayed his followers, whose
condemnation is pronounced.’ So far my King and
master; so much my office.

KING HENRY
What is thy name? I know thy quality.

MONTJOY
Montjoy.

KING HENRY
Thou dost thy office fairly. Turn thee back,
And tell thy King I do not seek him now,
But could be willing to march on to Calais
Without impeachment: for, to say the sooth,
Though 'tis no wisdom to confess so much
Unto an enemy of craft and vantage,
My people are with sickness much enfeebled,
My numbers lessened, and those few I have
Almost no better than so many French;
Who when they were in health, I tell thee, Herald,
I thought upon one pair of English legs
Did march three Frenchmen. Yet forgive me, God,
That I do brag thus! This your air of France
Hath blown that vice in me – I must repent.
Go, therefore, tell thy master here I am;
My ransom is this frail and worthless trunk;
My army but a weak and sickly guard:
Yet, God before, tell him we will come on,
Though France himself, and such another neighbour,
Stand in our way. There's for thy labour, Montjoy.
Go bid thy master well advise himself:
If we may pass, we will; if we be hindered,
We shall your tawny ground with your red blood
Discolour: and so, Montjoy, fare you well.
The sum of all our answer is but this:
We would not seek a battle as we are,
Nor, as we are, we say we will not shun it.
So tell your master.

MONTJOY
I shall deliver so. Thanks to your highness.
Exit

GLOUCESTER
I hope they will not come upon us now.

KING HENRY
We are in God's hand, brother, not in theirs.
March to the bridge; it now draws toward night.
Beyond the river we'll encamp ourselves,
And on tomorrow bid them march away.
Exeunt
Modern text
Act III, Scene VII
Enter the Constable of France, the Lord Rambures,
Orleans, Dauphin, with others

CONSTABLE
Tut! I have the best armour of the world.
Would it were day!

ORLEANS
You have an excellent armour; but let my horse
have his due

CONSTABLE
It is the best horse of Europe.

ORLEANS
Will it never be morning?

DAUPHIN
My Lord of Orleans, and my Lord High
Constable, you talk of horse and armour?

ORLEANS
You are as well provided of both as any prince
in the world.

DAUPHIN
What a long night is this! I will not change my
horse with any that treads but on four pasterns. Ca, ha!
He bounds from the earth, as if his entrails were hairs –
le cheval volant, the Pegasus, chez les narines de feu!
When I bestride him, I soar, I am a hawk. He trots the
air; the earth sings when he touches it; the basest horn
of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes.

ORLEANS
He's of the colour of the nutmeg.

DAUPHIN
And of the heat of the ginger. It is a beast for
Perseus: he is pure air and fire; and the dull elements of
earth and water never appear in him, but only in
patient stillness while his rider mounts him. He is
indeed a horse, and all other jades you may call beasts.

CONSTABLE
Indeed, my lord, it is a most absolute and
excellent horse.

DAUPHIN
It is the prince of palfreys; his neigh is like the
bidding of a monarch, and his countenance enforces
homage.

ORLEANS
No more, cousin.

DAUPHIN
Nay, the man hath no wit that cannot, from the
rising of the lark to the lodging of the lamb, vary
deserved praise on my palfrey. It is a theme as fluent as
the sea: turn the sands into eloquent tongues, and my
horse is argument for them all. 'Tis a subject for a
sovereign to reason on, and for a sovereign's sovereign
to ride on; and for the world, familiar to us and
unknown, to lay apart their particular functions and
wonder at him. I once writ a sonnet in his praise, and
began thus: ‘ Wonder of nature – ’.

ORLEANS
I have heard a sonnet begin so to one's mistress.

DAUPHIN
Then did they imitate that which I composed
to my courser, for my horse is my mistress.

ORLEANS
Your mistress bears well.

DAUPHIN
Me well, which is the prescript praise and
perfection of a good and particular mistress.

CONSTABLE
Nay, for methought yesterday your mistress
shrewdly shook your back.

DAUPHIN
So perhaps did yours.

CONSTABLE
Mine was not bridled.

DAUPHIN
O, then belike she was old and gentle, and you
rode like a kern of Ireland, your French hose off, and in
your straight strossers.

CONSTABLE
You have good judgement in horsemanship.

DAUPHIN
Be warned by me, then: they that ride so, and
ride not warily, fall into foul bogs. I had rather have my
horse to my mistress.

CONSTABLE
I had as lief have my mistress a jade.

DAUPHIN
I tell thee, Constable, my mistress wears his
own hair.

CONSTABLE
I could make as true a boast as that, if I had
a sow to my mistress.

DAUPHIN
Le chien est retourné à son propre vomissement,
et la truie lavée au bourbier:’ thou mak'st use of anything.

CONSTABLE
Yet do I not use my horse for my mistress, or
any such proverb so little kin to the purpose.

RAMBURES
My Lord Constable, the armour that I saw
in your tent tonight – are those stars or suns upon it?

CONSTABLE
Stars, my lord.

DAUPHIN
Some of them will fall tomorrow, I hope.

CONSTABLE
And yet my sky shall not want.

DAUPHIN
That may be, for you bear a many superfluously,
and 'twere more honour some were away.

CONSTABLE
E'en as your horse bears your praises,
who would trot as well were some of your brags
dismounted.

DAUPHIN
Would I were able to load him with his desert!
Will it never be day? I will trot tomorrow a mile, and
my way shall be paved with English faces.

CONSTABLE
I will not say so, for fear I should be faced
out of my way; but I would it were morning, for I
would fain be about the ears of the English.

RAMBURES
Who will go to hazard with me for twenty
prisoners?

CONSTABLE
You must first go yourself to hazard ere you
have them.

DAUPHIN
'Tis midnight: I'll go arm myself.
Exit

ORLEANS
The Dauphin longs for morning.

RAMBURES
He longs to eat the English.

CONSTABLE
I think he will eat all he kills.

ORLEANS
By the white hand of my lady, he's a gallant
prince.

CONSTABLE
Swear by her foot, that she may tread out
the oath.

ORLEANS
He is simply the most active gentleman of
France.

CONSTABLE
Doing is activity, and he will still be doing.

ORLEANS
He never did harm, that I heard of.

CONSTABLE
Nor will do none tomorrow: he will keep that
good name still.

ORLEANS
I know him to be valiant.

CONSTABLE
I was told that, by one that knows him better
than you.

ORLEANS
What's he?

CONSTABLE
Marry, he told me so himself, and he said he
cared not who knew it.

ORLEANS
He needs not; it is no hidden virtue in him.

CONSTABLE
By my faith, sir, but it is; never anybody
saw it but his lackey. 'Tis a hooded valour, and when it
appears it will bate.

ORLEANS
Ill will never said well.

CONSTABLE
I will cap that proverb with ‘ There is flattery
in friendship.’

ORLEANS
And I will take up that with ‘ Give the devil his
due!’

CONSTABLE
Well placed. There stands your friend for the
devil. Have at the very eye of that proverb with ‘ A pox
of the devil.’

ORLEANS
You are the better at proverbs by how much ‘ A
fool's bolt is soon shot.’

CONSTABLE
You have shot over.

ORLEANS
'Tis not the first time you were overshot.
Enter a Messenger

MESSENGER
My Lord High Constable, the English lie
within fifteen hundred paces of your tents.

CONSTABLE
Who hath measured the ground?

MESSENGER
The Lord Grandpré.

CONSTABLE
A valiant and most expert gentleman. Would
it were day! Alas, poor Harry of England! He longs not
for the dawning as we do.

ORLEANS
What a wretched and peevish fellow is this King
of England, to mope with his fat-brained followers so far
out of his knowledge.

CONSTABLE
If the English had any apprehension, they
would run away.

ORLEANS
That they lack; for if their heads had any
intellectual armour, they could never wear such heavy
head-pieces.

RAMBURES
That island of England breeds very valiant
creatures: their mastiffs are of unmatchable courage.

ORLEANS
Foolish curs, that run winking into the mouth
of a Russian bear, and have their heads crushed like
rotten apples! You may as well say that's a valiant flea
that dare eat his breakfast on the lip of a lion.

CONSTABLE
Just, just: and the men do sympathize with
the mastiffs in robustious and rough coming on,
leaving their wits with their wives; and then, give them
great meals of beef, and iron and steel; they will eat
like wolves, and fight like devils.

ORLEANS
Ay, but these English are shrewdly out of beef.

CONSTABLE
Then shall we find tomorrow they have only
stomachs to eat, and none to fight. Now is it time to
arm. Come, shall we about it?

ORLEANS
It is now two o'clock: but, let me see – by ten
We shall have each a hundred Englishmen.
Exeunt
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