The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare

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 mind,
Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful
bread;

Never sees horrid night, the child of hell;
But, like a lackey, from the rise to set,
Sweats in the eye of Phoebus, and all night
Sleeps 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 wots,
What watch the king keeps to maintain the

Erp. My lord, your nobles, jealous of your absence,

Seek through your camp to find you.

K. Hen. Good old knight,

Collect them all together at my tent:
I'll be before thee.

Erp. I shall do't, my lord.

[Exit.

K. Hen. O God of battles! steel my soldiers'

hearts!

Possess them not with fear; take from

now

The sense of reckoning, if the opposed

bets

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, swarm
About our squares of battle,—were enough
To purge this field of such a hilding foe;
Though we, upon this mountain's basis by
Took stand for idle speculation:

them
num-And all is done. Then let the trumpets sound
The tucket-sonuance, and the note to mount:
O For our approach shall so much dare the field,
That England shall couch down in fear, and
yield.

But that our honours must not. What's to say?
A very little little let us do,

Pluck their hearts from them!-Not to-day,

Lord,

O not to-day, think not upon the fault
My father made in compassing the crown!
ï Richard's body have interred new;
And on it have bestow'd more contrite tears,
Than from it issued forced drops of blood.
Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay,
Who twice a day their wither'd hands hold up
Toward heaven, to pardon blood; and I have

built

Two chantries, where the sad and solemn priests

Sing 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 GRANDPRE.

Grand. Why do you stay so long, my lords of France ?

Yon island carrions, desperate of their bones,
Ill-favour'dly 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.
Their horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks,
With torch-staves in their hand and their poor

jades

Lob down their heads, dropping their hides and [eyes:

hips; The gum down-roping from their pale-deac And in their pale dull mouths the gimmal bit Lies 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 words,
To demonstrate the life of such a battle
In life so lifeless as it shows itself.
Con. They have said their prayers, and they
stay for death.

Dau. Shall we go send them dinners, and fresh suits,

And give their fasting horses provender,
And after fight with them?

Con. 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.

+ Mean, despicable.
troductory flourish on the trumpet.
Ring.

Do them out, extinguish them.
The name of an in
$ Colours.

SCENE III-The English Camp.

Enter the English Host: GLOSTER, BEDFORD, EXETER, SALISBURY, and WESTMORELAND. Glo. Where is the king?

Bed The king himself is rode to view their

battle.

West. Of fighting men they have full threescore thousand.

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

Sal. 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 Gloster, and my good lord
Exeter,

And my kind kinsman, warriors all, adieu!

Bed. Farewell, good Salisbury; and good luck go with thee!

Exe. Farewell, kind lord; fight valiantly today:

And yet I do thee wrong, to mind thee of it, For thou art fraui'd of the firm truth of valour. [Exit SALISBURY.

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

West. O that we now had here

Enter King HENRY.

But one ten thousand of those men in England, That do no work to-day!

K. Hen. What's he, that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland ?-No, my fair cousin :
If we are mark'd to die, we are enough
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man
more.

By Jove, I am not covetous for gold:
Nor care 1, 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 Eng

And Crispin Crispian shall neer go by
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered:
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me,
Shall be iny brother: be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
Aud gentlemen in England, now a-bed,
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not
here !

And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks,

That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
Enter SALISBURY.

Sal. My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with speed:

The French are bravely * în their battles set,
And will with all expedience charge on us.
K. Hen. All things are ready, if our minds
be so.

West. Perish the man, whose mind is backward now!

K. Hen. Thou dost not wish more help from England, cousin?

West. God's will, my liege, would you and I

Must lie and fester.

K. Hen. Who hath sent thee now?
Mont. The Constable of Frauce.

K. Hen. I pray thee, bear my former answer back;

Good God! why should they mock poor fellows Bid them achieve me, and then sell my bones.

thus ?

The man that once did sell the lion's skin
While the beast liv'd, was kill'd with hunting
bim.

A many of our bodies shall, no doubt,
Find native graves; upon the which I trust,
Shall witness live in brass of this day's work!
And those that leave their valiant bones in
France,

Dying like men, though buried in your dung

bills,

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.

There's not a piece of feather in our host,
(Good argumeut, I hope, we shall not fly,)
And time hath worn us into slovenry;
But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim:
And my poor soldiers tell me, yet, ere night,
They'll be in fresher robes; or they will pluck
The gay new coats o'er the French soldiers'
heads,

And turn them out of service. If they do this, (As, if God please, they shall,) my ransom then Will soon be levied. Herald, save thou thy labour;

Come thou no more for ransom, gentle herald; They shall have none, I swear, but these my joints:

Which if they have as I will leave 'em to them,
Sball yield them little, tell the Constable.
Mont. I shali, king Harry. And so fare thee
well:

fest dispos: tout a cette heure de coupér vostre gorge.

Pist. Ouy, couper gorge, par ma foy, pesant, Unless thou give me crowns, brave crowns; Or mangled shalt thou be by this my sword. Fr. Sol. O, je vous supplie pour l'amour de Dieu me pardonner! Je suis gentilhomme de bonne maison: gardez ma vie, et je vous donneray deux cents escus.

Pist. What are his words?

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

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

Fr. Sol. Petit monsieur, que dit-il? Boy. Encore qu'il est contre son jurement, de pardonner aucun prisonnier; neantmoins, pour les escus que vous l'avez promis, il est content de vous donner la liberté, le

Thou never shalt hear herald any more. [Exit.
K. Hen. I fear, thou'lt once inore come again | franchisement.
for ransom.

Enter the Duke of YORK.

Fr. Sol. Sur`mes genoux, je vous donne mille remerciemens; et je m'estime heareux que je suis tombé entre les mains d'un cheval

York. My lord, most humbly on my knee I beglier, je pense, te plus brave, valiant, et tres The leading of the vaward. *

K. Hen. Take it, brave York.-Now, soldiers, march away :

And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day!

[Exeunt.

Perpend my words, O signieur Dew, aud
mark ;-

O signieur Dew, thou diest on point of fox, +
Except, O signieur, thou do give to me
Egregious ransom.

distingué seigneur d'Angleterre. Pist. Expound unto me, boy.

Boy. He gives you, upon his knees, a thou sand thanks: and he esteems himself happy that he hath fallen into the hands of (as he thinks) the most brave, valorous, and thriceworthy signieur of England.

Pist. As I suck blood, I will some mercy show.Follow me, cur.

Bar

[Exit PISTOL Boy. Suivez vous le grand capitaine. did never know so full a voice issue from so [Exit FRENCH SOLDIER. empty a heart: but the saying is truc,-The empty vessel makes the greatest sound. dolph and Nym had ten times more valour than this roaring devil i'the old play, that every one may pare his nails with a wooden dagger; and they are both hanged; and so would this be, if he durst steal any thing adventurously. I must stay with the lackeys, with the luggage of our camp: the French might have a good prey of us, if he knew of it; for there is none to guard it. but boys. [Exit.

Fr. Sol. O, prennez misericorde! ayez pitié SCENE V.-Another part of the Field of de moy!

Pist. Moy shall not serve, I will have forty

moys;

For I will fetch thy rim out at thy throat,

In drops of crimson blood.

Fr. Sol. Estil impossible d'eschapper la

force de ton bras?

Pist. Brass, cur!

Thou damned and luxurious § mountain goat,
Offer'st me brass ?

Fr. Sol. O pardonnez moy!

Pist. Say'st thou me so is that a ton of
moys? -

Come hither, boy; Ask me this slave in French,
What is his name.

Boy. Escoutez; Comment estes vous ap-
pelle?

Fr. Sol. Monsieur le Fer.

Boy. He says, his name is-master Fer.

Pist. 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.

Pist. Bid him prepare, for I will cut

throat.

his

• Vanguard.

Alarum.

Battle.

Enter DAUPHIN, ORLEANS, BOUR. BON, CONSTABLE, RAMBURES, and others. 7 Con. O diable?

Orl. O seigneur !-le jour est perdu, tout` est perdu!

Dau. Mort de ma vie all is confounded, all!

tune!

Reproach and everlasting shame
Sits mocking in our plumes.-O meschante for-
[A short Alarum.
Do not run away.
Con. Why, all our ranks are broke.
Dau. O perdurable • shame !-let's stab our-

selves.

An old cant word for a sword, so called from a fa- Unto these English, or else die with fame.

mous sword cutler of the name of Fox.

The diaphragm. Pieces of money.

Lascivious. Chastise.

• Lasting.

+ I. c. Who has no more gentility.

beggarly, lowsy knave it is: I hope, your majesty is pear me testimony, and witness, and avouchments, that this is the glove of Alençon, that your majesty gave me, in your conscience

now.

K. Hen. Give me thy glove, soldier: Look, here is the fellow of it. 'Twas I, indeed, thou promised'st to strike; and thou hast given me most bitter terms.

Flu. An please your majesty, let his neck answer for it, if there is any martial law in the 'orld.

K. Hen. How canst thou make me satisfaction?

Will. All offences, my liege, come from the heart never came any from mine, that might offend your majesty.

K. Hen. It was ourself thou didst abuse. Will. Your majesty came not like yourself: you appeared to ine but as a common man; witness the night, your garments, your lowliness; and what your highness suffered under that shape, I beseech you take it for your own fault, and not mine: for had you been as I took you for, I made no offence; therefore, I beseech your highness, pardon me.

K. Hen. Here, uncle Exeter, fill this glove
with crowns,

And give it to this fellow.-Keep it, fellow;
And wear it for an honour in thy cap,
Till I do challenge it.-Give him the crowns:-
And, captain, you must needs be friends with
him.

Flu. By this day and this light, the fellow has mettle enough in his pelly:-Hold, there is twelve pence for you, and I pray yon to serve Got, and keep you out of prawis, and prabbles, and quarrels, and dissensions, and, I warrant you, it is the petter for you.

Will. I will none of your money.

Flu. It is with a goot will; I can tell you, it will serve you to mend your shoes: Come, wherefore should you be so pashful? your shoes is not so goot: 'tis a goot silling, I warrant you, or I will change it.

Enter an English HERALD.

K. Hen. Now, herald; are the dead num-
ber'd?

Her. Here is the number of the slaughter'd
French.
[Delivers a Paper.
K. Hen. What prisoners of good sort are
taken, uncle?

Ere. Charles duke of Orleans, nephew to the
king;

John duke of Bourbon, and lord Bonciqualt:
Of other lords and barons, knights and squires,
Full fifteen hundred, besides common men.
K. Hen. This note doth tell me of ten thou-
sand French,

That in the field lie slain of princes, in this
number,

And nobles bearing banners, there lie dead
One hundred twenty-six added to these,
Of knights, esquires, and gallant gentlemen,
Eight thousand and four hundred; of the

which,

Five hundred were but yesterday dubb'd
knights:

So that, in these ten thousand they have lost,
There are but sixteen hundred mercenaries;
The rest are-princes, barons, lords, knights,
'squires.

And gentlemen of blood and quality.
The name of those their nobles that lie dead,
Charles De-la-bret, high Constable of France;
Jaques of Chatillon, admiral of France;
The master of the cross-bows, lord Rambures;
Great-master of France, the brave Sir Guischard
Dauphin;

John duke of Alençon; Antony duke of Bra

bant,

The brother to the duke of Burgundy;
And Edward duke of Bar: of lusty earls,
Grandpré and Roussi, Fauconberg and Foix,

Beaumont and Marle, Vaudemont and Lestrale,
Here was a royal fellowship of death!——
Where is the number of our English dead?
(HERALD presents another Paper.
Edward the duke of York, the earl of Suffolk,
Sir Richard Ketley, Davy Gam, esquire:
None else of name; and, of all other men,
But five and twenty. O God, thy arm was here,
And not to us, but to thy arm alone,
Ascribe we all.-When, without stratagem,
But in plain shock, and even play of battle,
Was ever known so great and little loss,
On one part and on the other 1-Take it, God,
For it is only thine!

Eae. 'Tis wonderful!

K. Hen. Come, go we in procession to the
village:

And be it death proclaimed through our host,
To boast of this, or take the praise from God,
Which is his only.

Flu. Is it not lawful, an please your majesty, to tell how many is killed?

K. Hen. Yes, captain; but with this acknowledgement,

That God fought for us.

Flu. Yes, my conscience, he did us great goot.

K. Hen. Do we all holy rites;

Let there be sung Non nobis, and Te Deum.
The dead with charity enclos'd in clay,
We'll then to Calais; and to England then;
Where ne'er From France arriv'd more happy
[Exeunt.

men.

ACT V.

Enter CHORUS.

Chor. Vouchsafe to those that have not read

the story,

That I may prompt them: and of such as bave,
I humbly pray them to admit the excuse
Of time, of numbers, and due course of things,
Which canuot in their huge and proper life
Be here presented. Now we bear the king
Toward Calais : grant him there; there seen,
Heave him away upon your winged thoughts,
Athwart the sea: Behold, the Euglish beach
Pales in the flood with men, with wives, and
boys,

Whose shouts and claps out-voice the deep
mouth'd sea,

Which, like a mighty whiffler + 'fore the king,
Seems to prepare his way: so let him land
And, solemnly, see him set on to London.
So swift a pace hath thought, that even now
You may imagine him upon Blackheath ;
Where that his lords desire him to have borne
His bruised helmet, and his bended sword,
Before him through the city: he forbids it,
Being free from vainness and self-glorious
pride;

Giving full trophy, sigual, and ostent,
Quite from himself to God. But now behold,
In the quick forge and workinghouse of thought,
How London doth pour out her citizens !
The mayor, and all his brethren, in best soit,-
Like to the senators of the antique Rome,
With the plebeians swarming at their heels,-
Go forth, and fetch their conquering Caesar in:
As, by a lower but by loving likelihood,
Were now the general of our gracions em-
press t

(As, in good time, he may,) from Ireland
coming,

Bringing rebellion broached on his sword,
How many would the peaceful city quit,

• The king (says the Chronicles,) caused the psa m
In exitulsrael de Egypto, to be sung after the victory.
+ An officer who walks first in processions.
The earl of Essex, in the reign of Elizabeth.
§ Spitted, transfixed.

To welcome him? much more, and much more cause,

Did they this Harry. Now in Loudon place him;

(As yet the lamentation of the French

nvites the king of England's stay at home: The emperor's coming in behalf of France, To order peace between them ;) and omit All the occurrences, whatever chanc'd, Till Harry's back-return again to France; There must we bring him; and myself have

play'd

The interim, by remembering you-'tis past. Then brook abridgment; and your eyes ad

vance

After your thought, straight back again to
France.
[Exit.
SCENE 1.-France.-An English Court of

Guard.

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

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

Enter PISTOL.

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

Flu. 'Tis no matter for his swellings, nor his turkey-cocks.-Got pless you, ancient Pistol, you scurvey, lowsy knave, Got bless you!

Pist. Ha! art thou Bedlam? dost thou thirst, base Trojan,

To have me fold up Parca's fatal web?+
Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek.

Flu. I peseech you heartily, scurvy, lowsy knave, at my desires, and my requests, and my petitions, to eat, look you, this leek; because, look you, you do not love it, nor your affections, and your appetites, and your digestions, does not agree with it, I would desire you to

eat it.

Pist. Not for Cadwallader, and all his goats.

Flu. There is one goat for you. [Strikes him.] Will you be so goot, scald knave, as eat it? Pist. Base Trojan, thou shalt die.

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

Gow. Enough, captain; you have astonished him.

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

Pist. Must I bite ?

Flu. Yes, certainly; and out of doubt, and out of questions too, and ambiguities. Pist. By this leek, I will most horribly revenge; I eat, aud eke I swear

Heury did not strike a blow in France, for two years after the decisive battle of Agincourt; but immediately concluded a truce for that period.---Hume. "Dost thou desire to have me put thee to death?" 1 Stunned.

Pist. Me a groat!

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

Pist. I take thy groat, in earnest of revenge. Flu. If I owe you any thing, I will pay you in cudgels; you shall be a woodmonger, and buy nothing of me bat cudgels. God be wi' you, and keep you, and heal your pate. [Exit.

Pist. All hell shall stir for this. Gow. Go, go; you are a counterfeit cowardly knave. Will you mock at an ancient tradition, -begun upon an honourable respect, and worn as a memorable trophy of predeceased valour,and dare not avouch in your deeds any of your words? 1 have seen you gleeking and galling at this gentleman twice or thrice. You thought, because he could not speak English in the na tive garb, he could not therefore bandle an En glish cudgel: you find it otherwise; and henceforth let a Welsh correction teach you a good English condition. † Fare ye well.

[Exit.

Pist. Doth fortune play the huswife with me now?.

News have 1, that my Nell is dead i'the spita!
Of malady of France;

And there my rendezvous is quite cut off.
Old I do wax; and from my weary limbs
Honour is cudgell'd. Well, bawd will I turn,
And something lean to cutpurse of quick hand.
To England will I steal, and there I'll steal:
And patches will I get unto these scars,
And swear I got them in the Gallia wars.

[Exit.

SCENE II.-Troyes in Champagne.-An Apartment in the French King's Palace. Enter, at one door, King HENRY, BEDFORD, GLOSTER, EXETER, WARWICK, WESTMOR ELAND, and other Lords; at another; the FRENCH KING, Queen ISABEL, the Princess KATHARINE, Lords, Ladies, &c. the Duke of BURGUNDY, and his Train.

K. Hen. Peace to this meeting, wherefore we are met!

Unto our brother France, and to our sister,
Health and fair time of day, joy and good
wishes
[rine;

To our most fair and princely cousin Katha-
And (as a branch and member of this royalty,
By whom this great assembly is contriv'd,)
We do salute you, duke of Burgundy ;-
Aud princes French, and peers, health to you
all !

Fr. King. Right joyous are we to behold your face,

Most worthy brother England; fairly met:
So are you, princes English, every one.

Q. Isa. So happy be the issue, brother Erg.

land,

Of this good day, and of this gracious meeting,
As we are now glad to behold your eyes;
Your eyes, which hitherto have borne in them
Against the French, that met them, in their
bent,

The fatal balls of murdering basilisks:
The venom of such looks, we fairly hope,

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The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare: Accurately Printed from the Text ...