The Life of Henry the
Fifth
(First Folio)
by William
Shakespeare
Enter Prologue.
O For a Muse of Fire, that would ascend
The brightest Heauen of
Inuention:
A Kingdome for a Stage, Princes to Act,
And Monarchs to behold
the swelling Scene.
Then should the Warlike Harry, like himselfe,
Assume
the Port of Mars, and at his heeles
(Leasht in, like Hounds) should Famine,
Sword, and Fire
Crouch for employment. But pardon, Gentles all:
The flat
vnraysed Spirits, that hath dar'd,
On this vnworthy Scaffold, to bring
forth
So great an Obiect. Can this Cock-Pit hold
The vastie fields of
France? Or may we cramme
Within this Woodden O, the very Caskes
That did
affright the Ayre at Agincourt?
O pardon: since a crooked Figure
may
Attest in little place a Million,
And let vs, Cyphers to this great
Accompt,
On your imaginarie Forces worke.
Suppose within the Girdle of
these Walls
Are now confin'd two mightie Monarchies,
Whose high,
vp-reared, and abutting Fronts,
The perillous narrow Ocean parts
asunder.
Peece out our imperfections with your thoughts:
Into a thousand
parts diuide one Man,
And make imaginarie Puissance.
Thinke when we talke
of Horses, that you see them
Printing their prowd Hoofes i'th' receiuing
Earth:
For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our Kings,
Carry them
here and there: Iumping o're Times;
Turning th' accomplishment of many
yeeres
Into an Howre-glasse: for the which supplie,
Admit me Chorus to
this Historie;
Who Prologue-like, your humble patience pray,
Gently to
heare, kindly to iudge our Play.
Enter.
Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
Enter the two Bishops of Canterbury and Ely.
Bish.Cant. My Lord, Ile tell you, that selfe Bill is vrg'd,
Which
in th' eleue[n]th yere of y last Kings reign
Was like, and had indeed against
vs past,
But that the scambling and vnquiet time
Did push it out of
farther question
Bish.Ely. But how my Lord shall we resist it now?
Bish.Cant. It must be thought on: if it passe against vs,
We loose the better
halfe of our Possession:
For all the Temporall Lands, which men deuout
By
Testament haue giuen to the Church,
Would they strip from vs; being valu'd
thus,
As much as would maintaine, to the Kings honor,
Full fifteene
Earles, and fifteene hundred Knights,
Six thousand and two hundred good
Esquires:
And to reliefe of Lazars, and weake age
Of indigent faint
Soules, past corporall toyle,
A hundred Almes-houses, right well
supply'd:
And to the Coffers of the King beside,
A thousand pounds by th'
yeere. Thus runs the Bill
Bish.Ely. This would drinke deepe
Bish.Cant. 'Twould drinke the Cup and all
Bish.Ely. But what preuention?
Bish.Cant. The King is
full of grace, and faire regard
Bish.Ely. And a true louer of the holy Church
Bish.Cant. The courses of his youth promis'd it not.
The
breath no sooner left his Fathers body,
But that his wildnesse, mortify'd in
him,
Seem'd to dye too: yea, at that very moment,
Consideration like an
Angell came,
And whipt th' offending Adam out of him;
Leauing his body as
a Paradise,
T' inuelop and containe Celestiall Spirits.
Neuer was such a
sodaine Scholler made:
Neuer came Reformation in a Flood,
With such a
heady currance scowring faults:
Nor neuer Hidra-headed Wilfulnesse
So
soone did loose his Seat; and all at once;
As in this King
Bish.Ely. We are blessed in the Change
Bish.Cant. Heare him but reason in Diuinitie;
And
all-admiring, with an inward wish
You would desire the King were made a
Prelate:
Heare him debate of Common-wealth Affaires;
You would say, it
hath been all in all his study:
List his discourse of Warre; and you shall
heare
A fearefull Battaile rendred you in Musique.
Turne him to any Cause
of Pollicy,
The Gordian Knot of it he will vnloose,
Familiar as his
Garter: that when he speakes,
The Ayre, a Charter'd Libertine, is
still,
And the mute Wonder lurketh in mens eares,
To steale his sweet and
honyed Sentences:
So that the Art and Practique part of Life,
Must be the
Mistresse to this Theorique.
Which is a wonder how his Grace should gleane
it,
Since his addiction was to Courses vaine,
His Companies vnletter'd,
rude, and shallow,
His Houres fill'd vp with Ryots, Banquets, Sports;
And
neuer noted in him any studie,
Any retyrement, any sequestration,
From
open Haunts and Popularitie
B.Ely. The Strawberry growes vnderneath the Nettle,
And
holesome Berryes thriue and ripen best,
Neighbour'd by Fruit of baser
qualitie:
And so the Prince obscur'd his Contemplation
Vnder the Veyle of
Wildnesse, which (no doubt)
Grew like the Summer Grasse, fastest by
Night,
Vnseene, yet cressiue in his facultie
B.Cant. It must be so; for Miracles are ceast:
And therefore
we must needes admit the meanes,
How things are perfected
B.Ely. But my good Lord:
How now for mittigation of this
Bill,
Vrg'd by the Commons? doth his Maiestie
Incline to it, or
no?
B.Cant. He seemes indifferent:
Or rather swaying more vpon our
part,
Then cherishing th' exhibiters against vs:
For I haue made an offer
to his Maiestie,
Vpon our Spirituall Conuocation,
And in regard of Causes
now in hand,
Which I haue open'd to his Grace at large,
As touching
France, to giue a greater Summe,
Then euer at one time the Clergie yet
Did
to his Predecessors part withall
B.Ely. How did this offer seeme receiu'd, my Lord?
B.Cant. With good acceptance of his Maiestie:
Saue that there was not time
enough to heare,
As I perceiu'd his Grace would faine haue done,
The
seueralls and vnhidden passages
Of his true Titles to some certaine
Dukedomes,
And generally, to the Crowne and Seat of France,
Deriu'd from
Edward, his great Grandfather
B.Ely. What was th' impediment that broke this off?
B.Cant. The French Embassador vpon that instant
Crau'd audience; and the
howre I thinke is come,
To giue him hearing: Is it foure a Clock?
B.Ely. It is
B.Cant. Then goe we in, to know his Embassie:
Which I could
with a ready guesse declare,
Before the Frenchman speake a word of it
B.Ely. Ile wait vpon you, and I long to heare it.
Exeunt.
Enter the King, Humfrey, Bedford, Clarence, Warwick,
Westmerland,
and
Exeter.
King. Where is my gracious Lord of Canterbury?
Exeter. Not
here in presence
King. Send for him, good Vnckle
Westm. Shall we call in th' Ambassador, my Liege?
King. Not yet, my Cousin: we would be resolu'd,
Before we heare him, of some
things of weight,
That taske our thoughts, concerning vs and France.
Enter
two Bishops.
B.Cant. God and his Angels guard your sacred Throne,
And make you
long become it
King. Sure we thanke you.
My learned Lord, we pray you to
proceed,
And iustly and religiously vnfold,
Why the Law Salike, that they
haue in France,
Or should or should not barre vs in our Clayme:
And God
forbid, my deare and faithfull Lord,
That you should fashion, wrest, or bow
your reading,
Or nicely charge your vnderstanding Soule,
With opening
Titles miscreate, whose right
Sutes not in natiue colours with the
truth:
For God doth know, how many now in health,
Shall drop their blood,
in approbation
Of what your reuerence shall incite vs to.
Therefore take
heed how you impawne our Person,
How you awake our sleeping Sword of
Warre;
We charge you in the Name of God take heed:
For neuer two such
Kingdomes did contend,
Without much fall of blood, whose guiltlesse
drops
Are euery one, a Woe, a sore Complaint,
'Gainst him, whose wrongs
giues edge vnto the Swords,
That makes such waste in briefe
mortalitie.
Vnder this Coniuration, speake my Lord:
For we will heare,
note, and beleeue in heart,
That what you speake, is in your Conscience
washt,
As pure as sinne with Baptisme
B.Can. Then heare me gracious Soueraign, & you
Peers,
That owe your selues, your liues, and seruices,
To this Imperiall
Throne. There is no barre
To make against your Highnesse Clayme to
France,
But this which they produce from Pharamond,
In terram Salicam
Mulieres ne succedant,
No Woman shall succeed in Salike Land:
Which Salike
Land, the French vniustly gloze
To be the Realme of France, and
Pharamond
The founder of this Law, and Female Barre.
Yet their owne
Authors faithfully affirme,
That the Land Salike is in Germanie,
Betweene
the Flouds of Sala and of Elue:
Where Charles the Great hauing subdu'd the
Saxons,
There left behind and settled certaine French:
Who holding in
disdaine the German Women,
For some dishonest manners of their
life,
Establisht then this Law; to wit, No Female
Should be Inheritrix in
Salike Land:
Which Salike (as I said) 'twixt Elue and Sala,
Is at this day
in Germanie, call'd Meisen.
Then doth it well appeare, the Salike Law
Was
not deuised for the Realme of France:
Nor did the French possesse the Salike
Land,
Vntill foure hundred one and twentie yeeres
After defunction of King
Pharamond,
Idly suppos'd the founder of this Law,
Who died within the
yeere of our Redemption,
Foure hundred twentie six: and Charles the
Great
Subdu'd the Saxons, and did seat the French
Beyond the Riuer Sala,
in the yeere
Eight hundred fiue. Besides, their Writers say,
King Pepin,
which deposed Childerike,
Did as Heire Generall, being descended
Of
Blithild, which was Daughter to King Clothair,
Make Clayme and Title to the
Crowne of France.
Hugh Capet also, who vsurpt the Crowne
Of Charles the
Duke of Loraine, sole Heire male
Of the true Line and Stock of Charles the
Great:
To find his Title with some shewes of truth,
Though in pure truth
it was corrupt and naught,
Conuey'd himselfe as th' Heire to th' Lady
Lingare,
Daughter to Charlemaine, who was the Sonne
To Lewes the Emperour,
and Lewes the Sonne
Of Charles the Great: also King Lewes the Tenth,
Who
was sole Heire to the Vsurper Capet,
Could not keepe quiet in his
conscience,
Wearing the Crowne of France, 'till satisfied,
That faire
Queene Isabel, his Grandmother,
Was Lineall of the Lady
Ermengare,
Daughter to Charles the foresaid Duke of Loraine:
By the which
Marriage, the Lyne of Charles the Great
Was re-vnited to the Crowne of
France.
So, that as cleare as is the Summers Sunne,
King Pepins Title, and
Hugh Capets Clayme,
King Lewes his satisfaction, all appeare
To hold in
Right and Title of the Female:
So doe the Kings of France vnto this
day.
Howbeit, they would hold vp this Salique Law,
To barre your Highnesse
clayming from the Female,
And rather chuse to hide them in a Net,
Then
amply to imbarre their crooked Titles,
Vsurpt from you and your
Progenitors
King. May I with right and conscience make this claim?
Bish.Cant. The sinne vpon my head, dread Soueraigne:
For in the Booke of
Numbers is it writ,
When the man dyes, let the Inheritance
Descend vnto
the Daughter. Gracious Lord,
Stand for your owne, vnwind your bloody
Flagge,
Looke back into your mightie Ancestors:
Goe my dread Lord, to your
great Grandsires Tombe,
From whom you clayme; inuoke his Warlike
Spirit,
And your Great Vnckles, Edward the Black Prince,
Who on the French
ground play'd a Tragedie,
Making defeat on the full Power of
France:
Whiles his most mightie Father on a Hill
Stood smiling, to behold
his Lyons Whelpe
Forrage in blood of French Nobilitie.
O Noble English,
that could entertaine
With halfe their Forces, the full pride of
France,
And let another halfe stand laughing by,
All out of worke, and
cold for action
Bish. Awake remembrance of these valiant dead,
And with your
puissant Arme renew their Feats;
You are their Heire, you sit vpon their
Throne:
The Blood and Courage that renowned them,
Runs in your Veines: and
my thrice-puissant Liege
Is in the very May-Morne of his Youth,
Ripe for
Exploits and mightie Enterprises
Exe. Your Brother Kings and Monarchs of the Earth
Doe all
expect, that you should rowse your selfe,
As did the former Lyons of your
Blood
West. They know your Grace hath cause, and means, and
might;
So hath your Highnesse: neuer King of England
Had Nobles richer,
and more loyall Subiects,
Whose hearts haue left their bodyes here in
England,
And lye pauillion'd in the fields of France
Bish.Can. O let their bodyes follow my deare Liege
With
Bloods, and Sword and Fire, to win your Right:
In ayde whereof, we of the
Spiritualtie
Will rayse your Highnesse such a mightie Summe,
As neuer did
the Clergie at one time
Bring in to any of your Ancestors
King. We must not onely arme t' inuade the French,
But lay
downe our proportions, to defend
Against the Scot, who will make roade vpon
vs,
With all aduantages
Bish.Can. They of those Marches, gracious Soueraign,
Shall be
a Wall sufficient to defend
Our in-land from the pilfering Borderers
King. We do not meane the coursing snatchers onely,
But feare
the maine intendment of the Scot,
Who hath been still a giddy neighbour to
vs:
For you shall reade, that my great Grandfather
Neuer went with his
forces into France,
But that the Scot, on his vnfurnisht Kingdome,
Came
pouring like the Tyde into a breach,
With ample and brim fulnesse of his
force,
Galling the gleaned Land with hot Assayes,
Girding with grieuous
siege, Castles and Townes:
That England being emptie of defence,
Hath
shooke and trembled at th' ill neighbourhood
B.Can. She hath bin the[n] more fear'd the[n] harm'd, my
Liege:
For heare her but exampl'd by her selfe,
When all her Cheualrie
hath been in France,
And shee a mourning Widdow of her Nobles,
Shee hath
her selfe not onely well defended,
But taken and impounded as a Stray,
The
King of Scots: whom shee did send to France,
To fill King Edwards fame with
prisoner Kings,
And make their Chronicle as rich with prayse,
As is the
Owse and bottome of the Sea
With sunken Wrack, and sum-lesse Treasuries
Bish.Ely. But there's a saying very old and true,
If that you
will France win, then with Scotland first begin.
For once the Eagle (England)
being in prey,
To her vnguarded Nest, the Weazell (Scot)
Comes sneaking,
and so sucks her Princely Egges,
Playing the Mouse in absence of the
Cat,
To tame and hauocke more then she can eate
Exet. It followes then, the Cat must stay at home,
Yet that
is but a crush'd necessity,
Since we haue lockes to safegard
necessaries,
And pretty traps to catch the petty theeues.
While that the
Armed hand doth fight abroad,
Th' aduised head defends it selfe at
home:
For Gouernment, though high, and low, and lower,
Put into parts,
doth keepe in one consent,
Congreeing in a full and natural close,
Like
Musicke
Cant. Therefore doth heauen diuide
The state of man in diuers
functions,
Setting endeuour in continual motion:
To which is fixed as an
ayme or butt,
Obedience: for so worke the Hony Bees,
Creatures that by a
rule in Nature teach
The Act of Order to a peopled Kingdome.
They haue a
King, and Officers of sorts,
Where some like Magistrates correct at
home:
Others, like Merchants venter Trade abroad:
Others, like Souldiers
armed in their stings,
Make boote vpon the Summers Veluet buddes:
Which
pillage, they with merry march bring home
To the Tent-royal of their
Emperor:
Who busied in his Maiesties surueyes
The singing Masons building
roofes of Gold,
The ciuil Citizens kneading vp the hony;
The poore
Mechanicke Porters, crowding in
Their heauy burthens at his narrow
gate:
The sad-ey'd Iustice with his surly humme,
Deliuering ore to
Executors pale
The lazie yawning Drone: I this inferre,
That many things
hauing full reference
To one consent, may worke contrariously,
As many
Arrowes loosed seuerall wayes
Come to one marke: as many wayes meet in one
towne,
As many fresh streames meet in one salt sea;
As many Lynes close in
the Dials center:
So may a thousand actions once a foote,
And in one
purpose, and be all well borne
Without defeat. Therefore to France, my
Liege,
Diuide your happy England into foure,
Whereof, take you one quarter
into France,
And you withall shall make all Gallia shake.
If we with
thrice such powers left at home,
Cannot defend our owne doores from the
dogge,
Let vs be worried, and our Nation lose
The name of hardinesse and
policie
King. Call in the Messengers sent from the Dolphin.
Now are
we well resolu'd, and by Gods helpe
And yours, the noble sinewes of our
power,
France being ours, wee'l bend it to our Awe,
Or breake it all to
peeces. Or there wee'l sit,
(Ruling in large and ample Emperie,
Ore
France, and all her (almost) Kingly Dukedomes)
Or lay these bones in an
vnworthy Vrne,
Tomblesse, with no remembrance ouer them:
Either our
History shall with full mouth
Speake freely of our Acts, or else our
graue
Like Turkish mute, shall haue a tonguelesse mouth,
Not worshipt with
a waxen Epitaph.
Enter Ambassadors of France.
Now are we well prepar'd to know the pleasure
Of our faire Cosin Dolphin:
for we heare,
Your greeting is from him, not from the King
Amb. May't please your Maiestie to giue vs leaue
Freely to
render what we haue in charge:
Or shall we sparingly shew you farre
off
The Dolphins meaning, and our Embassie
King. We are no Tyrant, but a Christian King,
Vnto whose
grace our passion is as subiect
As is our wretches fettred in our
prisons,
Therefore with franke and with vncurbed plainnesse,
Tell vs the
Dolphins minde
Amb. Thus than in few:
Your Highnesse lately sending into
France,
Did claime some certaine Dukedomes, in the right
Of your great
Predecessor, King Edward the third.
In answer of which claime, the Prince our
Master
Sayes, that you sauour too much of your youth,
And bids you be
aduis'd: There's nought in France,
That can be with a nimble Galliard
wonne:
You cannot reuell into Dukedomes there.
He therefore sends you
meeter for your spirit
This Tun of Treasure; and in lieu of this,
Desires
you let the dukedomes that you claime
Heare no more of you. This the Dolphin
speakes
King. What Treasure Vncle?
Exe. Tennis balles, my
Liege
Kin. We are glad the Dolphin is so pleasant with vs,
His
Present, and your paines we thanke you for:
When we haue matcht our Rackets
to these Balles,
We will in France (by Gods grace) play a set,
Shall
strike his fathers Crowne into the hazard.
Tell him, he hath made a match
with such a Wrangler,
That all the Courts of France will be disturb'd
With
Chaces. And we vnderstand him well,
How he comes o're vs with our wilder
dayes,
Not measuring what vse we made of them.
We neuer valew'd this poore
seate of England,
And therefore liuing hence, did giue our selfe
To
barbarous license: As 'tis euer common,
That men are merriest, when they are
from home.
But tell the Dolphin, I will keepe my State,
Be like a King,
and shew my sayle of Greatnesse,
When I do rowse me in my Throne of
France.
For that I haue layd by my Maiestie,
And plodded like a man for
working dayes:
But I will rise there with so full a glorie,
That I will
dazle all the eyes of France,
Yea strike the Dolphin blinde to looke on
vs,
And tell the pleasant Prince, this Mocke of his
Hath turn'd his balles
to Gun-stones, and his soule
Shall stand sore charged, for the wastefull
vengeance
That shall flye with them: for many a thousand widows
Shall this
his Mocke, mocke out of their deer husbands;
Mocke mothers from their sonnes,
mock Castles downe:
And some are yet vngotten and vnborne,
That shal haue
cause to curse the Dolphins scorne.
But this lyes all within the wil of
God,
To whom I do appeale, and in whose name
Tel you the Dolphin, I am
comming on,
To venge me as I may, and to put forth
My rightfull hand in a
wel-hallow'd cause.
So get you hence in peace: And tell the Dolphin,
His
Iest will sauour but of shallow wit,
When thousands weepe more then did laugh
at it.
Conuey them with safe conduct. Fare you well.
Exeunt. Ambassadors.
Exe. This was a merry Message
King. We hope to make the Sender blush at it:
Therefore, my
Lords, omit no happy howre,
That may giue furth'rance to our
Expedition:
For we haue now no thought in vs but France,
Saue those to
God, that runne before our businesse.
Therefore let our proportions for these
Warres
Be soone collected, and all things thought vpon,
That may with
reasonable swiftnesse adde
More Feathers to our Wings: for God
before,
Wee'le chide this Dolphin at his fathers doore.
Therefore let
euery man now taske his thought,
That this faire Action may on foot be
brought.
Exeunt.
Flourish. Enter Chorus.
Now all the Youth of England are on fire,
And silken Dalliance in the
Wardrobe lyes:
Now thriue the Armorers, and Honors thought
Reignes solely
in the breast of euery man.
They sell the Pasture now, to buy the
Horse;
Following the Mirror of all Christian Kings,
With winged heeles, as
English Mercuries.
For now sits Expectation in the Ayre,
And hides a
Sword, from Hilts vnto the Point,
With Crownes Imperiall, Crownes and
Coronets,
Promis'd to Harry, and his followers.
The French aduis'd by good
intelligence
Of this most dreadfull preparation,
Shake in their feare, and
with pale Pollicy
Seeke to diuert the English purposes.
O England: Modell
to thy inward Greatnesse,
Like little Body with a mightie Heart:
What
mightst thou do, that honour would thee do,
Were all thy children kinde and
naturall:
But see, thy fault France hath in thee found out,
A nest of
hollow bosomes, which he filles
With treacherous Crownes, and three corrupted
men:
One, Richard Earle of Cambridge, and the second
Henry Lord Scroope of
Masham, and the third
Sir Thomas Grey Knight of Northumberland,
Haue for
the Gilt of France (O guilt indeed)
Confirm'd Conspiracy with fearefull
France,
And by their hands, this grace of Kings must dye.
If Hell and
Treason hold their promises,
Ere he take ship for France; and in
Southampton.
Linger your patience on, and wee'l digest
Th' abuse of
distance; force a play:
The summe is payde, the Traitors are agreed,
The
King is set from London, and the Scene
Is now transported (Gentles) to
Southampton,
There is the Play-house now, there must you sit,
And thence
to France shall we conuey you safe,
And bring you backe: Charming the narrow
seas
To giue you gentle Passe: for if we may,
Wee'l not offend one
stomacke with our Play.
But till the King come forth, and not till
then,
Vnto Southampton do we shift our Scene.
Exit
Enter Corporall Nym, and Lieutenant Bardolfe.
Bar. Well met Corporall Nym
Nym. Good morrow Lieutenant Bardolfe
Bar. What, are Ancient Pistoll and you friends yet?
Nym. For my part, I care not: I say little: but when
time shall serue, there
shall be smiles, but that shall be as
it may. I dare not fight, but I will
winke and holde out
mine yron: it is a simple one, but what though? It
will
toste Cheese, and it will endure cold, as another mans
sword will:
and there's an end
Bar. I will bestow a breakfast to make you friendes,
and
wee'l bee all three sworne brothers to France: Let't
be so good Corporall
Nym
Nym. Faith, I will liue so long as I may, that's the
certaine
of it: and when I cannot liue any longer, I will doe
as I may:
That is my rest, that is the rendeuous of it
Bar. It is certaine Corporall, that he is marryed to
Nell
Quickly, and certainly she did you wrong, for you
were troth-plight to
her
Nym. I cannot tell, Things must be as they may: men
may
sleepe, and they may haue their throats about them
at that time, and some
say, kniues haue edges: It must
be as it may, though patience be a tyred
name, yet shee
will plodde, there must be Conclusions, well, I
cannot
tell.
Enter Pistoll, & Quickly.
Bar. Heere comes Ancient Pistoll and his wife: good
Corporall be
patient heere. How now mine Hoaste Pistoll?
Pist. Base Tyke, cal'st
thou mee Hoste, now by this
hand I sweare I scorne the terme: nor shall my
Nel keep
Lodgers
Host. No by my troth, not long: For we cannot lodge
and board
a dozen or fourteene Gentlewomen that liue
honestly by the pricke of their
Needles, but it will bee
thought we keepe a Bawdy-house straight. O
welliday
Lady, if he be not hewne now, we shall see wilful adultery
and
murther committed
Bar. Good Lieutenant, good Corporal offer nothing
heere
Nym. Pish
Pist. Pish for thee, Island dogge: thou prickeard cur
of
Island
Host. Good Corporall Nym shew thy valor, and put
vp your
sword
Nym. Will you shogge off? I would haue you solus
Pist. Solus, egregious dog? O Viper vile; The solus
in thy
most meruailous face, the solus in thy teeth, and
in thy throate, and in thy
hatefull Lungs, yea in thy Maw
perdy; and which is worse, within thy nastie
mouth. I
do retort the solus in thy bowels, for I can take, and
Pistols
cocke is vp, and flashing fire will follow
Nym. I am not Barbason, you cannot coniure mee: I
haue an
humor to knocke you indifferently well: If you
grow fowle with me Pistoll, I
will scoure you with my
Rapier, as I may, in fayre tearmes. If you would
walke
off, I would pricke your guts a little in good tearmes, as
I may,
and that's the humor of it
Pist. O Braggard vile, and damned furious wight,
The Graue
doth gape, and doting death is neere,
Therefore exhale
Bar. Heare me, heare me what I say: Hee that strikes
the
first stroake, Ile run him vp to the hilts, as I am a soldier
Pist. An oath of mickle might, and fury shall abate.
Giue me
thy fist, thy fore-foote to me giue: Thy spirites
are most tall
Nym. I will cut thy throate one time or other in
faire
termes, that is the humor of it
Pistoll. Couple a gorge, that is the word. I defie thee
againe.
O hound of Creet, think'st thou my spouse to get?
No, to the
spittle goe, and from the Poudring tub of infamy,
fetch forth the Lazar Kite
of Cressids kinde, Doll
Teare-sheete, she by name, and her espouse. I haue,
and I
will hold the Quondam Quickely for the onely shee: and
Pauca,
there's enough to go to.
Enter the Boy.
Boy. Mine Hoast Pistoll, you must come to my Mayster,
and your
Hostesse: He is very sicke, & would to bed.
Good Bardolfe, put thy face
betweene his sheets, and do
the Office of a Warming-pan: Faith, he's very
ill
Bard. Away you Rogue
Host. By my troth he'l yeeld the Crow a pudding one
of these
dayes: the King has kild his heart. Good Husband
come home presently.
Exit
Bar. Come, shall I make you two friends. Wee must
to France
together: why the diuel should we keep kniues
to cut one anothers
throats?
Pist. Let floods ore-swell, and fiends for food
howle
on
Nym. You'l pay me the eight shillings I won of you
at
Betting?
Pist. Base is the Slaue that payes
Nym. That now I wil haue: that's the humor of it
Pist. As manhood shal compound: push home.
Draw
Bard. By this sword, hee that makes the first thrust,
Ile kill him:
By this sword, I wil
Pi. Sword is an Oath, & Oaths must haue their
course
Bar. Coporall Nym, & thou wilt be friends be frends,
and
thou wilt not, why then be enemies with me to: prethee
put vp
Pist. A Noble shalt thou haue, and present pay, and
Liquor
likewise will I giue to thee, and friendshippe
shall combyne, and
brotherhood. Ile liue by Nymme, &
Nymme shall liue by me, is not this
iust? For I shal Sutler
be vnto the Campe, and profits will accrue. Giue
mee
thy hand
Nym. I shall haue my Noble?
Pist. In cash, most iustly
payd
Nym. Well, then that the humor of't.
Enter Hostesse.
Host. As euer you come of women, come in quickly
to sir Iohn: A
poore heart, hee is so shak'd of a burning
quotidian Tertian, that it is most
lamentable to behold.
Sweet men, come to him
Nym. The King hath run bad humors on the Knight,
that's the
euen of it
Pist. Nym, thou hast spoke the right, his heart is
fracted
and corroborate
Nym. The King is a good King, but it must bee as it
may: he
passes some humors, and carreeres
Pist. Let vs condole the Knight, for (Lambekins) we
will
liue.
Enter Exeter, Bedford, & Westmerland.
Bed. Fore God his Grace is bold to trust these traitors
Exe.
They shall be apprehended by and by
West. How smooth and euen they do bear themselues,
As if
allegeance in their bosomes sate
Crowned with faith, and constant loyalty
Bed. The King hath note of all that they intend,
By
interception, which they dreame not of
Exe. Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow,
Whom he hath
dull'd and cloy'd with gracious fauours;
That he should for a forraigne
purse, so sell
His Soueraignes life to death and treachery.
Sound Trumpets.
Enter the King, Scroope, Cambridge, and Gray.
King. Now sits the winde faire, and we will aboord.
My Lord of
Cambridge, and my kinde Lord of Masham,
And you my gentle Knight, giue me
your thoughts:
Thinke you not that the powres we beare with vs
Will cut
their passage through the force of France?
Doing the execution, and the
acte,
For which we haue in head assembled them
Scro. No doubt my Liege, if each man do his best
King. I doubt not that, since we are well perswaded
We carry
not a heart with vs from hence,
That growes not in a faire consent with
ours:
Nor leaue not one behinde, that doth not wish
Successe and Conquest
to attend on vs
Cam. Neuer was Monarch better fear'd and lou'd,
Then is your
Maiesty; there's not I thinke a subiect
That sits in heart-greefe and
vneasinesse
Vnder the sweet shade of your gouernment
Kni. True: those that were your Fathers enemies,
Haue steep'd
their gauls in hony, and do serue you
With hearts create of duty, and of
zeale
King. We therefore haue great cause of thankfulnes,
And shall
forget the office of our hand
Sooner then quittance of desert and
merit,
According to the weight and worthinesse
Scro. So seruice shall with steeled sinewes toyle,
And labour
shall refresh it selfe with hope
To do your Grace incessant seruices
King. We Iudge no lesse. Vnkle of Exeter,
Inlarge the man
committed yesterday,
That rayl'd against our person: We consider
It was
excesse of Wine that set him on,
And on his more aduice, We pardon him
Scro. That's mercy, but too much security:
Let him be
punish'd Soueraigne, least example
Breed (by his sufferance) more of such a
kind
King. O let vs yet be mercifull
Cam. So may your Highnesse, and yet punish too
Grey. Sir, you shew great mercy if you giue him life,
After
the taste of much correction
King. Alas, your too much loue and care of me,
Are heauy
Orisons 'gainst this poore wretch:
If little faults proceeding on
distemper,
Shall not be wink'd at, how shall we stretch our eye
When
capitall crimes, chew'd, swallow'd, and digested,
Appeare before vs? Wee'l
yet inlarge that man,
Though Cambridge, Scroope, and Gray, in their deere
care
And tender preseruation of our person
Wold haue him punish'd. And now
to our French causes,
Who are the late Commissioners?
Cam. I one my
Lord,
Your Highnesse bad me aske for it to day
Scro. So did you me my Liege
Gray. And I my Royall Soueraigne
King. Then Richard Earle of Cambridge, there is yours:
There
yours Lord Scroope of Masham, and Sir Knight:
Gray of Northumberland, this
same is yours:
Reade them, and know I know your worthinesse.
My Lord of
Westmerland, and Vnkle Exeter,
We will aboord to night. Why how now
Gentlemen?
What see you in those papers, that you loose
So much
complexion? Looke ye how they change:
Their cheekes are paper. Why, what
reade you there,
That haue so cowarded and chac'd your blood
Out of
apparance
Cam. I do confesse my fault,
And do submit me to your
Highnesse mercy
Gray. Scro. To which we all appeale
King. The mercy that was quicke in vs but late,
By your owne
counsaile is supprest and kill'd:
You must not dare (for shame) to talke of
mercy,
For your owne reasons turne into your bosomes,
As dogs vpon their
maisters, worrying you:
See you my Princes, and my Noble Peeres,
These
English monsters: My Lord of Cambridge heere,
You know how apt our loue was,
to accord
To furnish with all appertinents
Belonging to his Honour; and
this man,
Hath for a few light Crownes, lightly conspir'd
And sworne vnto
the practises of France
To kill vs heere in Hampton. To the which,
This
Knight no lesse for bounty bound to Vs
Then Cambridge is, hath likewise
sworne. But O,
What shall I say to thee Lord Scroope, thou
cruell,
Ingratefull, sauage, and inhumane Creature?
Thou that didst beare
the key of all my counsailes,
That knew'st the very bottome of my
soule,
That (almost) might'st haue coyn'd me into Golde,
Would'st thou
haue practis'd on me, for thy vse?
May it be possible, that forraigne
hyer
Could out of thee extract one sparke of euill
That might annoy my
finger? 'Tis so strange,
That though the truth of it stands off as
grosse
As black and white, my eye will scarsely see it.
Treason, and
murther, euer kept together,
As two yoake diuels sworne to eythers
purpose,
Working so grossely in an naturall cause,
That admiration did not
hoope at them.
But thou (gainst all proportion) didst bring in
Wonder to
waite on treason, and on murther:
And whatsoeuer cunning fiend it was
That
wrought vpon thee so preposterously,
Hath got the voyce in hell for
excellence:
And other diuels that suggest by treasons,
Do botch and bungle
vp damnation,
With patches, colours, and with formes being fetcht
From
glist'ring semblances of piety:
But he that temper'd thee, bad thee stand
vp,
Gaue thee no instance why thou shouldst do treason,
Vnlesse to dub
thee with the name of Traitor.
If that same Daemon that hath gull'd thee
thus,
Should with his Lyon-gate walke the whole world,
He might returne to
vastie Tartar backe,
And tell the Legions, I can neuer win
A soule so
easie as that Englishmans.
Oh, how hast thou with iealousie infected
The
sweetnesse of affiance? Shew men dutifull,
Why so didst thou: seeme they
graue and learned?
Why so didst thou. Come they of Noble Family?
Why so
didst thou. Seeme they religious?
Why so didst thou. Or are they spare in
diet,
Free from grosse passion, or of mirth, or anger,
Constant in spirit,
not sweruing with the blood,
Garnish'd and deck'd in modest
complement,
Not working with the eye, without the eare,
And but in purged
iudgement trusting neither,
Such and so finely boulted didst thou
seeme:
And thus thy fall hath left a kinde of blot,
To make thee full
fraught man, and best indued
With some suspition, I will weepe for
thee.
For this reuolt of thine, me thinkes is like
Another fall of Man.
Their faults are open,
Arrest them to the answer of the Law,
And God
acquit them of their practises
Exe. I arrest thee of High Treason, by the name of
Richard
Earle of Cambridge.
I arrest thee of High Treason, by the name of
Thomas
Lord Scroope of Marsham.
I arrest thee of High Treason, by the name
of Thomas
Grey, Knight of Northumberland
Scro. Our purposes, God iustly hath discouer'd,
And I repent
my fault more then my death,
Which I beseech your Highnesse to
forgiue,
Although my body pay the price of it
Cam. For me, the Gold of France did not seduce,
Although I
did admit it as a motiue,
The sooner to effect what I intended:
But God be
thanked for preuention,
Which in sufferance heartily will
reioyce,
Beseeching God, and you, to pardon mee
Gray. Neuer did faithfull subiect more reioyce
At the
discouery of most dangerous Treason,
Then I do at this houre ioy ore my
selfe,
Preuented from a damned enterprize;
My fault, but not my body,
pardon Soueraigne
King. God quit you in his mercy: Hear your sentence
You haue
conspir'd against Our Royall person,
Ioyn'd with an enemy proclaim'd, and
from his Coffers,
Receyu'd the Golden Earnest of Our death:
Wherein you
would haue sold your King to slaughter,
His Princes, and his Peeres to
seruitude,
His Subiects to oppression, and contempt,
And his whole
Kingdome into desolation:
Touching our person, seeke we no reuenge,
But we
our Kingdomes safety must so tender,
Whose ruine you sought, that to her
Lawes
We do deliuer you. Get you therefore hence,
(Poore miserable
wretches) to your death:
The taste whereof, God of his mercy giue
You
patience to indure, and true Repentance
Of all your deare offences. Beare
them hence.
Enter.
Now Lords for France: the enterprise whereof
Shall be to you as vs, like
glorious.
We doubt not of a faire and luckie Warre,
Since God so
graciously hath brought to light
This dangerous Treason, lurking in our
way,
To hinder our beginnings. We doubt not now,
But euery Rubbe is
smoothed on our way.
Then forth, deare Countreymen: Let vs deliuer
Our
Puissance into the hand of God,
Putting it straight in
expedition.
Chearely to Sea, the signes of Warre aduance,
No King of
England, if not King of France.
Flourish.
Enter Pistoll, Nim, Bardolph, Boy, and Hostesse.
Hostesse. 'Prythee honey sweet Husband, let me bring
thee to
Staines
Pistoll. No: for my manly heart doth erne. Bardolph,
be
blythe: Nim, rowse thy vaunting Veines: Boy, brissle
thy Courage vp: for
Falstaffe hee is dead, and wee must
erne therefore
Bard. Would I were with him, wheresomere hee is,
eyther in
Heauen, or in Hell
Hostesse. Nay sure, hee's not in Hell: hee's in
Arthurs
Bosome, if euer man went to Arthurs Bosome: a made a
finer end,
and went away and it had beene any Christome
Childe: a parted eu'n iust
betweene Twelue and One, eu'n
at the turning o'th' Tyde: for after I saw him
fumble with
the Sheets, and play with Flowers, and smile vpon his
fingers
end, I knew there was but one way: for his Nose was
as sharpe as a
Pen, and a Table of greene fields. How now
Sir Iohn (quoth I?) what man? be a
good cheare: so a
cryed out, God, God, God, three or foure times: now
I,
to comfort him, bid him a should not thinke of God; I
hop'd there was
no neede to trouble himselfe with any
such thoughts yet: so a bad me lay more
Clothes on his
feet: I put my hand into the Bed, and felt them, and
they
were as cold as any stone: then I felt to his knees, and
so
vp-peer'd, and vpward, and all was as cold as any stone
Nim. They say he cryed out of Sack
Hostesse. I, that a did
Bard. And of Women
Hostesse. Nay, that a did not
Boy. Yes that a did, and said they were Deules incarnate
Woman. A could neuer abide Carnation, 'twas a Colour
he neuer
lik'd
Boy. A said once, the Deule would haue him about
Women
Hostesse. A did in some sort (indeed) handle Women:
but then
hee was rumatique, and talk'd of the Whore of
Babylon
Boy. Doe you not remember a saw a Flea sticke vpon
Bardolphs
Nose, and a said it was a blacke Soule burning
in Hell
Bard. Well, the fuell is gone that maintain'd that
fire:
that's all the Riches I got in his seruice
Nim. Shall wee shogg? the King will be gone
from
Southampton
Pist. Come, let's away. My Loue, giue me thy Lippes:
Looke to
my Chattels, and my Moueables: Let Sences
rule: The world is, Pitch and pay:
trust none: for Oathes
are Strawes, mens Faiths are Wafer-Cakes, and
hold-fast
is the onely Dogge: My Ducke, therefore Caueto bee
thy
Counsailor. Goe, cleare thy Chrystalls. Yokefellowes
in Armes, let vs to
France, like Horseleeches
my Boyes, to sucke, to sucke, the very blood
to
sucke
Boy. And that's but vnwholesome food, they say
Pist. Touch her soft mouth, and march
Bard. Farwell Hostesse
Nim. I cannot kisse, that is the humor of it: but
adieu
Pist. Let Huswiferie appeare: keepe close, I thee
command
Hostesse. Farwell: adieu.
Exeunt.
Flourish.
Enter the French King, the Dolphin, the Dukes of Berry and
Britaine.
King. Thus comes the English with full power vpon vs,
And more then
carefully it vs concernes,
To answer Royally in our defences.
Therefore
the Dukes of Berry and of Britaine,
Of Brabant and of Orleance, shall make
forth,
And you Prince Dolphin, with all swift dispatch
To lyne and new
repayre our Townes of Warre
With men of courage, and with meanes
defendant:
For England his approaches makes as fierce,
As Waters to the
sucking of a Gulfe.
It fits vs then to be as prouident,
As feare may teach
vs, out of late examples
Left by the fatall and neglected English,
Vpon
our fields
Dolphin. My most redoubted Father,
It is most meet we arme vs
'gainst the Foe:
For Peace it selfe should not so dull a Kingdome,
(Though
War nor no knowne Quarrel were in question)
But that Defences, Musters,
Preparations,
Should be maintain'd, assembled, and collected,
As were a
Warre in expectation.
Therefore I say, 'tis meet we all goe forth,
To view
the sick and feeble parts of France:
And let vs doe it with no shew of
feare,
No, with no more, then if we heard that England
Were busied with a
Whitson Morris-dance:
For, my good Liege, shee is so idly King'd,
Her
Scepter so phantastically borne,
By a vaine giddie shallow humorous
Youth,
That feare attends her not
Const. O peace, Prince Dolphin,
You are too much mistaken in
this King:
Question your Grace the late Embassadors,
With what great State
he heard their Embassie,
How well supply'd with Noble Councellors,
How
modest in exception; and withall,
How terrible in constant resolution:
And
you shall find, his Vanities fore-spent,
Were but the out-side of the Roman
Brutus,
Couering Discretion with a Coat of Folly;
As Gardeners doe with
Ordure hide those Roots
That shall first spring, and be most delicate
Dolphin. Well, 'tis not so, my Lord High Constable.
But
though we thinke it so, it is no matter:
In cases of defence, 'tis best to
weigh
The Enemie more mightie then he seemes,
So the proportions of
defence are fill'd:
Which of a weake and niggardly proiection,
Doth like a
Miser spoyle his Coat, with scanting
A little Cloth
King. Thinke we King Harry strong:
And Princes, looke you
strongly arme to meet him.
The Kindred of him hath beene flesht vpon
vs:
And he is bred out of that bloodie straine,
That haunted vs in our
familiar Pathes:
Witnesse our too much memorable shame,
When Cressy
Battell fatally was strucke,
And all our Princes captiu'd, by the hand
Of
that black Name, Edward, black Prince of Wales:
Whiles that his Mountaine
Sire, on Mountaine standing
Vp in the Ayre, crown'd with the Golden
Sunne,
Saw his Heroicall Seed, and smil'd to see him
Mangle the Worke of
Nature, and deface
The Patternes, that by God and by French Fathers
Had
twentie yeeres been made. This is a Stem
Of that Victorious Stock: and let vs
feare
The Natiue mightinesse and fate of him.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. Embassadors from Harry King of England,
Doe craue admittance
to your Maiestie
King. Weele giue them present audience.
Goe, and bring
them.
You see this Chase is hotly followed, friends
Dolphin. Turne head, and stop pursuit: for coward Dogs
Most
spend their mouths, whe[n] what they seem to threaten
Runs farre before them.
Good my Soueraigne
Take vp the English short, and let them know
Of what a
Monarchie you are the Head:
Selfe-loue, my Liege, is not so vile a
sinne,
As selfe-neglecting.
Enter Exeter.
King. From our Brother of England?
Exe. From him, and thus
he greets your Maiestie:
He wills you in the Name of God Almightie,
That
you deuest your selfe, and lay apart
The borrowed Glories, that by gift of
Heauen,
By Law of Nature, and of Nations, longs
To him and to his Heires,
namely, the Crowne,
And all wide-stretched Honors, that pertaine
By
Custome, and the Ordinance of Times,
Vnto the Crowne of France: that you may
know
'Tis no sinister, nor no awkward Clayme,
Pickt from the worme-holes
of long-vanisht dayes,
Nor from the dust of old Obliuion rakt,
He sends
you this most memorable Lyne,
In euery Branch truly demonstratiue;
Willing
you ouer-looke this Pedigree:
And when you find him euenly deriu'd
From
his most fam'd, of famous Ancestors,
Edward the third; he bids you then
resigne
Your Crowne and Kingdome, indirectly held
From him, the Natiue and
true Challenger
King. Or else what followes?
Exe. Bloody constraint:
for if you hide the Crowne
Euen in your hearts, there will he rake for
it.
Therefore in fierce Tempest is he comming,
In Thunder and in
Earth-quake, like a Ioue:
That if requiring faile, he will compell.
And
bids you, in the Bowels of the Lord,
Deliuer vp the Crowne, and to take
mercie
On the poore Soules, for whom this hungry Warre
Opens his vastie
Iawes: and on your head
Turning the Widdowes Teares, the Orphans
Cryes,
The dead-mens Blood, the priuy Maidens Groanes,
For Husbands,
Fathers, and betrothed Louers,
That shall be swallowed in this
Controuersie.
This is his Clayme, his Threatning, and my Message:
Vnlesse
the Dolphin be in presence here;
To whom expressely I bring greeting to
King. For vs, we will consider of this further:
To morrow
shall you beare our full intent
Back to our Brother of England
Dolph. For the Dolphin,
I stand here for him: what to him
from England?
Exe. Scorne and defiance, sleight regard,
contempt,
And any thing that may not mis-become
The mightie Sender, doth
he prize you at.
Thus sayes my King: and if your Fathers Highnesse
Doe
not, in graunt of all demands at large,
Sweeten the bitter Mock you sent his
Maiestie;
Hee'le call you to so hot an Answer of it,
That Caues and Wombie
Vaultages of France
Shall chide your Trespas, and returne your Mock
In
second Accent of his Ordinance
Dolph. Say: if my Father render faire returne,
It is against
my will: for I desire
Nothing but Oddes with England.
To that end, as
matching to his Youth and Vanitie,
I did present him with the Paris-Balls
Exe. Hee'le make your Paris Louer shake for it,
Were it the
Mistresse Court of mightie Europe:
And be assur'd, you'le find a
diff'rence,
As we his Subiects haue in wonder found,
Betweene the promise
of his greener dayes,
And these he masters now: now he weighes Time
Euen
to the vtmost Graine: that you shall reade
In your owne Losses, if he stay in
France
King. To morrow shall you know our mind at full.
Flourish.
Exe. Dispatch vs with all speed, least that our King
Come here
himselfe to question our delay;
For he is footed in this Land already
King. You shalbe soone dispatcht, with faire conditions.
A
Night is but small breathe, and little pawse,
To answer matters of this
consequence.
Exeunt.
Actus Secundus.
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.
Enter.
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[aint]. George.
Alarum, and Chambers goe off.
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.
Enter.
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.
Enter.
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.
Enter.
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.
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
Alice. 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
Kath. 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
appelle
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
appelle
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.
Enter.
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
Dolph. 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.
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.
Enter.
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.
Flu. 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.
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 est
la
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.
Enter.
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.
Actus Tertius.
Chorus.
Now entertaine coniecture of a time,
When creeping Murmure and the poring
Darke
Fills the wide Vessell of the Vniuerse.
From Camp to Camp, through
the foule Womb of Night
The Humme of eyther Army stilly sounds;
That the
fixt Centinels almost receiue
The secret Whispers of each others
Watch.
Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames
Each Battaile sees
the others vmber'd face.
Steed threatens Steed, in high and boastfull
Neighs
Piercing the Nights dull Eare: and from the Tents,
The Armourers
accomplishing the Knights,
With busie Hammers closing Riuets vp,
Giue
dreadfull note of preparation.
The Countrey Cocks doe crow, the Clocks doe
towle:
And the third howre of drowsie Morning nam'd,
Prowd of their
Numbers, and secure in Soule,
The confident and ouer-lustie French,
Doe
the low-rated English play at Dice;
And chide the creeple-tardy-gated
Night,
Who like a foule and ougly Witch doth limpe
So tediously away. The
poore condemned English,
Like Sacrifices, by their watchfull Fires
Sit
patiently, and inly ruminate
The Mornings danger: and their gesture
sad,
Inuesting lanke-leane Cheekes, and Warre-worne Coats,
Presented them
vnto the gazing Moone
So many horride Ghosts. O now, who will behold
The
Royall Captaine of this ruin'd Band
Walking from Watch to Watch, from Tent to
Tent;
Let him cry, Prayse and Glory on his head:
For forth he goes, and
visits all his Hoast,
Bids them good morrow with a modest Smyle,
And calls
them Brothers, Friends, and Countreymen.
Vpon his Royall Face there is no
note,
How dread an Army hath enrounded him;
Nor doth he dedicate one iot
of Colour
Vnto the wearie and all-watched Night:
But freshly lookes, and
ouer-beares Attaint,
With chearefull semblance, and sweet Maiestie:
That
euery Wretch, pining and pale before,
Beholding him, plucks comfort from his
Lookes.
A Largesse vniuersall, like the Sunne,
His liberall Eye doth giue
to euery one,
Thawing cold feare, that meane and gentle all
Behold, as may
vnworthinesse define.
A little touch of Harry in the Night,
And so our
Scene must to the Battaile flye:
Where, O for pitty, we shall much
disgrace,
With foure or fiue most vile and ragged foyles,
(Right ill
dispos'd, in brawle ridiculous)
The Name of Agincourt: Yet sit and
see,
Minding true things, by what their Mock'ries bee.
Enter.
Enter the King, Bedford, and Gloucester.
King. Gloster, 'tis true that we are in great danger,
The greater
therefore should our Courage be.
God morrow Brother Bedford: God
Almightie,
There is some soule of goodnesse in things euill,
Would men
obseruingly distill it out.
For our bad Neighbour makes vs early
stirrers,
Which is both healthfull, and good husbandry.
Besides, they are
our outward Consciences,
And Preachers to vs all; admonishing,
That we
should dresse vs fairely for our end.
Thus may we gather Honey from the
Weed,
And make a Morall of the Diuell himselfe.
Enter Erpingham.
Good morrow old Sir Thomas Erpingham:
A good soft Pillow for that good
white Head,
Were better then a churlish turfe of France
Erping. Not so my Liege, this Lodging likes me better,
Since
I may say, now lye I like a King
King. 'Tis good for men to loue their present paines,
Vpon
example, so the Spirit is eased:
And when the Mind is quickned, out of
doubt
The Organs, though defunct and dead before,
Breake vp their drowsie
Graue, and newly moue
With casted slough, and fresh legeritie.
Lend me thy
Cloake Sir Thomas: Brothers both,
Commend me to the Princes in our
Campe;
Doe my good morrow to them, and anon
Desire them all to my
Pauillion
Gloster. We shall, my Liege
Erping. Shall I attend your Grace?
King. No, my good
Knight:
Goe with my Brothers to my Lords of England:
I and my Bosome must
debate a while,
And then I would no other company
Erping. The Lord in Heauen blesse thee, Noble
Harry.
Exeunt.
King. God a mercy old Heart, thou speak'st chearefully.
Enter
Pistoll
Pist. Che vous la?
King. A friend
Pist. Discusse vnto me, art thou Officer, or art thou
base,
common, and popular?
King. I am a Gentleman of a Company
Pist. Trayl'st thou the puissant Pyke?
King. Euen so:
what are you?
Pist. As good a Gentleman as the Emperor
King. Then you are a better then the King
Pist. The King's a Bawcock, and a Heart of Gold, a
Lad of
Life, an Impe of Fame, of Parents good, of Fist
most valiant: I kisse his
durtie shooe, and from heartstring
I loue the louely Bully. What is thy
Name?
King. Harry le Roy
Pist. Le Roy? a Cornish Name: art thou of Cornish
Crew?
King. No, I am a Welchman
Pist. Know'st thou Fluellen?
King. Yes
Pist. Tell him Ile knock his Leeke about his Pate
vpon
S[aint]. Dauies day
King. Doe not you weare your Dagger in your Cappe
that day,
least he knock that about yours
Pist. Art thou his friend?
King. And his Kinsman
too
Pist. The Figo for thee then
King. I thanke you: God be with you
Pist. My name is Pistol call'd.
Enter.
King. It sorts well with your fiercenesse.
Manet King.
Enter Fluellen and Gower.
Gower. Captaine Fluellen
Flu. 'So, in the Name of Iesu Christ, speake fewer: it
is the
greatest admiration in the vniuersall World, when
the true and aunchient
Prerogatifes and Lawes of the
Warres is not kept: if you would take the
paines but to
examine the Warres of Pompey the Great, you shall finde,
I
warrant you, that there is no tiddle tadle nor pibble bable
in Pompeyes
Campe: I warrant you, you shall finde
the Ceremonies of the Warres, and the
Cares of it, and
the Formes of it, and the Sobrietie of it, and the
Modestie
of it, to be otherwise
Gower. Why the Enemie is lowd, you heare him all
Night
Flu. If the Enemie is an Asse and a Foole, and a
prating
Coxcombe; is it meet, thinke you, that wee should
also, looke you,
be an Asse and a Foole, and a prating Coxcombe,
in your owne conscience
now?
Gow. I will speake lower
Flu. I pray you, and beseech you, that you will.
Enter.
King. Though it appeare a little out of fashion,
There is much care
and valour in this Welchman.
Enter three Souldiers, Iohn Bates, Alexander
Court, and Michael
Williams.
Court. Brother Iohn Bates, is not that the Morning
which
breakes yonder?
Bates. I thinke it be: but wee haue no great cause
to
desire the approach of day
Williams. Wee see yonder the beginning of the day,
but I
thinke wee shall neuer see the end of it. Who goes
there?
King. A
Friend
Williams. Vnder what Captaine serue you?
King. Vnder
Sir Iohn Erpingham
Williams. A good old Commander, and a most kinde
Gentleman: I
pray you, what thinkes he of our estate?
King. Euen as men wrackt vpon
a Sand, that looke to
be washt off the next Tyde
Bates. He hath not told his thought to the King?
King.
No: nor it is not meet he should: for though I
speake it to you, I thinke the
King is but a man, as I am:
the Violet smells to him, as it doth to me; the
Element
shewes to him, as it doth to me; all his Sences haue but
humane
Conditions: his Ceremonies layd by, in his Nakednesse
he appeares but a man;
and though his affections
are higher mounted then ours, yet when they
stoupe,
they stoupe with the like wing: therefore, when he sees
reason of
feares, as we doe; his feares, out of doubt, be of
the same rellish as ours
are: yet in reason, no man should
possesse him with any appearance of feare;
least hee, by
shewing it, should dis-hearten his Army
Bates. He may shew what outward courage he will:
but I
beleeue, as cold a Night as 'tis, hee could wish himselfe
in Thames vp to the
Neck; and so I would he were,
and I by him, at all aduentures, so we were
quit here
King. By my troth, I will speake my conscience of the
King: I
thinke hee would not wish himselfe any where,
but where hee is
Bates. Then I would he were here alone; so should he be
sure
to be ransomed, and a many poore mens liues saued
King. I dare say, you loue him not so ill, to wish him
here
alone: howsoeuer you speake this to feele other
mens minds, me thinks I could
not dye any where so contented,
as in the Kings company; his Cause being
iust, and
his Quarrell honorable
Williams. That's more then we know
Bates. I, or more then wee should seeke after; for wee
know
enough, if wee know wee are the Kings Subiects:
if his Cause be wrong, our
obedience to the King wipes
the Cryme of it out of vs
Williams. But if the Cause be not good, the King
himselfe
hath a heauie Reckoning to make, when all those
Legges, and
Armes, and Heads, chopt off in a Battaile,
shall ioyne together at the latter
day, and cry all, Wee dyed
at such a place, some swearing, some crying for a
Surgean;
some vpon their Wiues, left poore behind them;
some vpon the
Debts they owe, some vpon their Children
rawly left: I am afear'd, there are
few dye well, that dye
in a Battaile: for how can they charitably dispose of
any
thing, when Blood is their argument? Now, if these men
doe not dye
well, it will be a black matter for the King,
that led them to it; who to
disobey, were against all proportion
of subiection
King. So, if a Sonne that is by his Father sent
about
Merchandize, doe sinfully miscarry vpon the Sea; the imputation
of
his wickednesse, by your rule, should be imposed
vpon his Father that sent
him: or if a Seruant, vnder
his Masters command, transporting a summe of
Money,
be assayled by Robbers, and dye in many irreconcil'd
Iniquities;
you may call the businesse of the Master the
author of the Seruants
damnation: but this is not so:
The King is not bound to answer the particular
endings
of his Souldiers, the Father of his Sonne, nor the Master
of his
Seruant; for they purpose not their death, when
they purpose their seruices.
Besides, there is no King, be
his Cause neuer so spotlesse, if it come to the
arbitrement
of Swords, can trye it out with all vnspotted Souldiers:
some
(peraduenture) haue on them the guilt of
premeditated and contriued Murther;
some, of beguiling
Virgins with the broken Seales of Periurie;
some,
making the Warres their Bulwarke, that haue before gored
the gentle
Bosome of Peace with Pillage and Robberie.
Now, if these men haue defeated
the Law, and outrunne
Natiue punishment; though they can out-strip
men,
they haue no wings to flye from God. Warre is
his Beadle, Warre is his
Vengeance: so that here men
are punisht, for before breach of the Kings
Lawes, in
now the Kings Quarrell: where they feared the death,
they haue
borne life away; and where they would bee
safe, they perish. Then if they dye
vnprouided, no more
is the King guiltie of their damnation, then hee was
before
guiltie of those Impieties, for the which they are
now visited.
Euery Subiects Dutie is the Kings, but
euery Subiects Soule is his owne.
Therefore should
euery Souldier in the Warres doe as euery sicke man
in
his Bed, wash euery Moth out of his Conscience: and
dying so, Death is
to him aduantage; or not dying,
the time was blessedly lost, wherein such
preparation was
gayned: and in him that escapes, it were not sinne
to
thinke, that making God so free an offer, he let him outliue
that day,
to see his Greatnesse, and to teach others
how they should prepare
Will. 'Tis certaine, euery man that dyes ill, the ill
vpon
his owne head, the King is not to answer it
Bates. I doe not desire hee should answer for me, and
yet I
determine to fight lustily for him
King. I my selfe heard the King say he would not
be
ransom'd
Will. I, hee said so, to make vs fight chearefully: but
when
our throats are cut, hee may be ransom'd, and wee
ne're the wiser
King. If I liue to see it, I will neuer trust his word after
Will. You pay him then: that's a perillous shot out
of an
Elder Gunne, that a poore and a priuate displeasure
can doe against a
Monarch: you may as well goe about
to turne the Sunne to yce, with fanning in
his face with a
Peacocks feather: You'le neuer trust his word after;
come,
'tis a foolish saying
King. Your reproofe is something too round, I should
be angry
with you, if the time were conuenient
Will. Let it bee a Quarrell betweene vs, if you
liue
King. I embrace it
Will. How shall I know thee againe?
King. Giue me any
Gage of thine, and I will weare it
in my Bonnet: Then if euer thou dar'st
acknowledge it,
I will make it my Quarrell
Will. Heere's my Gloue: Giue mee another of
thine
King. There
Will. This will I also weare in my Cap: if euer thou
come to
me, and say, after to morrow, This is my Gloue,
by this Hand I will take thee
a box on the eare
King. If euer I liue to see it, I will challenge it
Will. Thou dar'st as well be hang'd
King. Well, I will doe it, though I take thee in the
Kings
companie
Will. Keepe thy word: fare thee well
Bates. Be friends you English fooles, be friends, wee
haue
French Quarrels enow, if you could tell how to reckon.
Exit Souldiers.
King. Indeede the French may lay twentie French
Crownes to one,
they will beat vs, for they beare them
on their shoulders: but it is no
English Treason to cut
French Crownes, and to morrow the King himselfe
will
be a Clipper.
Vpon the King, let vs our Liues, our Soules,
Our
Debts, our carefull Wiues,
Our Children, and our Sinnes, lay on the
King:
We must beare all.
O hard Condition, Twin-borne with
Greatnesse,
Subiect to the breath of euery foole, whose sence
No more can
feele, but his owne wringing.
What infinite hearts-ease must Kings
neglect,
That priuate men enioy?
And what haue Kings, that Priuates haue
not too,
Saue Ceremonie, saue generall Ceremonie?
And what art thou, thou
Idoll Ceremonie?
What kind of God art thou? that suffer'st more
Of mortall
griefes, then doe thy worshippers.
What are thy Rents? what are thy Commings
in?
O Ceremonie, shew me but thy worth.
What? is thy Soule of
Odoration?
Art thou ought else but Place, Degree, and Forme,
Creating awe
and feare in other men?
Wherein thou art lesse happy, being fear'd,
Then
they in fearing.
What drink'st thou oft, in stead of Homage sweet,
But
poyson'd flatterie? O, be sick, great Greatnesse,
And bid thy Ceremonie giue
thee cure.
Thinks thou the fierie Feuer will goe out
With Titles blowne
from Adulation?
Will it giue place to flexure and low bending?
Canst thou,
when thou command'st the beggers knee,
Command the health of it? No, thou
prowd Dreame,
That play'st so subtilly with a Kings Repose.
I am a King
that find thee: and I know,
'Tis not the Balme, the Scepter, and the
Ball,
The Sword, the Mase, the Crowne Imperiall,
The enter-tissued Robe of
Gold and Pearle,
The farsed Title running 'fore the King,
The Throne he
sits on: nor the Tyde of Pompe,
That beates vpon the high shore of this
World:
No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous Ceremonie;
Not all these, lay'd
in Bed Maiesticall,
Can sleepe so soundly, as the wretched Slaue:
Who with
a body fill'd, and vacant mind,
Gets him to rest, cram'd with distressefull
bread,
Neuer sees horride Night, the Child of Hell:
But like a Lacquey,
from the Rise to Set,
Sweates in the eye of Phebus; and all Night
Sleepes
in Elizium: next day after dawne,
Doth rise and helpe Hiperio[n] to his
Horse,
And followes so the euer-running yeere
With profitable labour to
his Graue:
And but for Ceremonie, such a Wretch,
Winding vp Dayes with
toyle, and Nights with sleepe,
Had the fore-hand and vantage of a
King.
The Slaue, a Member of the Countreyes peace,
Enioyes it; but in
grosse braine little wots,
What watch the King keepes, to maintaine the
peace;
Whose howres, the Pesant best aduantages.
Enter Erpingham.
Erp. My Lord, your Nobles iealous of your absence,
Seeke through
your Campe to find you
King. Good old Knight, collect them all together
At my Tent:
Ile be before thee
Erp. I shall doo't, my Lord.
Enter.
King. O God of Battailes, steele my Souldiers hearts,
Possesse them
not with feare: Take from them now
The sence of reckning of th' opposed
numbers:
Pluck their hearts from them. Not to day, O Lord,
O not to day,
thinke not vpon the fault
My Father made, in compassing the Crowne.
I
Richards body haue interred new,
And on it haue bestowed more contrite
teares,
Then from it issued forced drops of blood.
Fiue hundred poore I
haue in yeerely pay,
Who twice a day their wither'd hands hold vp
Toward
Heauen, to pardon blood:
And I haue built two Chauntries,
Where the sad
and solemne Priests sing still
For Richards Soule. More will I doe:
Though
all that I can doe, is nothing worth;
Since that my Penitence comes after
all,
Imploring pardon.
Enter Gloucester.
Glouc. My Liege
King. My Brother Gloucesters voyce? I:
I know thy errand, I
will goe with thee:
The day, my friend, and all things stay for me.
Exeunt.
Enter the Dolphin, Orleance, Ramburs, and Beaumont.
Orleance. The Sunne doth gild our Armour vp, my
Lords
Dolph. Monte Cheual: My Horse, Verlot Lacquay:
Ha
Orleance. Oh braue Spirit
Dolph. Via les ewes & terre
Orleance. Rien puis le air & feu
Dolph. Cein, Cousin Orleance.
Enter Constable.
Now my Lord Constable?
Const. Hearke how our Steedes, for present
Seruice
neigh
Dolph. Mount them, and make incision in their Hides,
That
their hot blood may spin in English eyes,
And doubt them with superfluous
courage: ha
Ram. What, wil you haue them weep our Horses blood?
How shall
we then behold their naturall teares?
Enter Messenger.
Messeng. The English are embattail'd, you French
Peeres
Const. To Horse you gallant Princes, straight to Horse.
Doe
but behold yond poore and starued Band,
And your faire shew shall suck away
their Soules,
Leauing them but the shales and huskes of men.
There is not
worke enough for all our hands,
Scarce blood enough in all their sickly
Veines,
To giue each naked Curtleax a stayne,
That our French Gallants
shall to day draw out,
And sheath for lack of sport. Let vs but blow on
them,
The vapour of our Valour will o're-turne them.
'Tis positiue against
all exceptions, Lords,
That our superfluous Lacquies, and our Pesants,
Who
in vnnecessarie action swarme
About our Squares of Battaile, were enow
To
purge this field of such a hilding Foe;
Though we vpon this Mountaines Basis
by,
Tooke stand for idle speculation:
But that our Honours must not.
What's to say?
A very little little let vs doe,
And all is done: then let
the Trumpets sound
The Tucket Sonuance, and the Note to mount:
For our
approach shall so much dare the field,
That England shall couch downe in
feare, and yeeld.
Enter Graundpree.
Grandpree. Why do you stay so long, my Lords of France?
Yond Iland
Carrions, desperate of their bones,
Ill-fauoredly become the Morning
field:
Their ragged Curtaines poorely are let loose,
And our Ayre shakes
them passing scornefully.
Bigge Mars seemes banqu'rout in their begger'd
Hoast,
And faintly through a rustie Beuer peepes.
The Horsemen sit like
fixed Candlesticks,
With Torch-staues in their hand: and their poore
Iades
Lob downe their heads, dropping the hides and hips:
The gumme downe
roping from their pale-dead eyes,
And in their pale dull mouthes the Iymold
Bitt
Lyes foule with chaw'd-grasse, still and motionlesse.
And their
executors, the knauish Crowes,
Flye o're them all, impatient for their
howre.
Description cannot sute it selfe in words,
To demonstrate the Life
of such a Battaile,
In life so liuelesse, as it shewes it selfe
Const. They haue said their prayers,
And they stay for
death
Dolph. Shall we goe send them Dinners, and fresh Sutes,
And
giue their fasting Horses Prouender,
And after fight with them?
Const. I stay but for my Guard: on
To the field, I will the Banner from a
Trumpet take,
And vse it for my haste. Come, come away,
The Sunne is high,
and we out-weare the day.
Exeunt.
Enter Gloucester, Bedford, Exeter, Erpingham with all his
Hoast:
Salisbury, and Westmerland.
Glouc. Where is the King?
Bedf. The King himselfe is rode to
view their Battaile
West. Of fighting men they haue full threescore thousand
Exe. There's fiue to one, besides they all are fresh
Salisb. Gods Arme strike with vs, 'tis a fearefull oddes.
God
buy' you Princes all; Ile to my Charge:
If we no more meet, till we meet in
Heauen;
Then ioyfully, my Noble Lord of Bedford,
My deare Lord Gloucester,
and my good Lord Exeter,
And my kind Kinsman, Warriors all, adieu
Bedf. Farwell good Salisbury, & good luck go with
thee:
And yet I doe thee wrong, to mind thee of it,
For thou art fram'd of
the firme truth of valour
Exe. Farwell kind Lord: fight valiantly to day
Bedf. He is as full of Valour as of Kindnesse,
Princely in
both.
Enter the King.
West. O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in
England,
That doe no worke to day
King. What's he that wishes so?
My Cousin Westmerland. No, my
faire Cousin:
If we are markt to dye, we are enow
To doe our Countrey
losse: and if to liue,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
Gods
will, I pray thee wish not one man more.
By Ioue, I am not couetous for
Gold,
Nor care I who doth feed vpon my cost:
It yernes me not, if men my
Garments weare;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
But if it be
a sinne to couet Honor,
I am the most offending Soule aliue.
No 'faith, my
Couze, wish not a man from England:
Gods peace, I would not loose so great an
Honor,
As one man more me thinkes would share from me,
For the best hope I
haue. O, doe not wish one more:
Rather proclaime it (Westmerland) through my
Hoast,
That he which hath no stomack to this fight,
Let him depart, his
Pasport shall be made,
And Crownes for Conuoy put into his Purse:
We would
not dye in that mans companie,
That feares his fellowship, to dye with
vs.
This day is call'd the Feast of Crispian:
He that out-liues this day,
and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named,
And
rowse him at the Name of Crispian.
He that shall see this day, and liue old
age,
Will yeerely on the Vigil feast his neighbours,
And say, to morrow is
Saint Crispian.
Then will he strip his sleeue, and shew his skarres:
Old
men forget; yet all shall be forgot:
But hee'le remember, with
aduantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our Names,
Familiar in
his mouth as household words,
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick
and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing Cups freshly
remembred.
This story shall the good man teach his sonne:
And Crispine
Crispian shall ne're goe by,
From this day to the ending of the World,
But
we in it shall be remembred;
We few, we happy few, we band of
brothers:
For he to day that sheds his blood with me,
Shall be my brother:
be he ne're so vile,
This day shall gentle his Condition.
And Gentlemen in
England, now a bed,
Shall thinke themselues accurst they were not
here;
And hold their Manhoods cheape, whiles any speakes,
That fought with
vs vpon Saint Crispines day.
Enter Salisbury.
Sal. My Soueraign Lord, bestow your selfe with speed:
The French
are brauely in their battailes set,
And will with all expedience charge on
vs
King. All things are ready, if our minds be so
West. Perish the man, whose mind is backward now
King. Thou do'st not wish more helpe from
England,
Couze?
West. Gods will, my Liege, would you and I
alone,
Without more helpe, could fight this Royall battaile
King. Why now thou hast vnwisht fiue thousand men:
Which
likes me better, then to wish vs one.
You know your places: God be with you
all.
Tucket. Enter Montioy.
Mont. Once more I come to know of thee King Harry,
If for thy
Ransome thou wilt now compound,
Before thy most assured Ouerthrow:
For
certainly, thou art so neere the Gulfe,
Thou needs must be englutted.
Besides, in mercy
The Constable desires thee, thou wilt mind
Thy followers
of Repentance; that their Soules
May make a peacefull and a sweet
retyre
From off these fields: where (wretches) their poore bodies
Must lye
and fester
King. Who hath sent thee now?
Mont. The Constable of
France
King. I pray thee beare my former Answer back:
Bid them
atchieue me, and then sell my bones.
Good God, why should they mock poore
fellowes thus?
The man that once did sell the Lyons skin
While the beast
liu'd, was kill'd with hunting him.
A many of our bodyes shall no
doubt
Find Natiue Graues: vpon the which, I trust
Shall witnesse liue in
Brasse of this dayes worke.
And those that leaue their valiant bones in
France,
Dying like men, though buryed in your Dunghills,
They shall be
fam'd: for there the Sun shall greet them,
And draw their honors reeking vp
to Heauen,
Leauing their earthly parts to choake your Clyme,
The smell
whereof shall breed a Plague in France.
Marke then abounding valour in our
English:
That being dead, like to the bullets crasing,
Breake out into a
second course of mischiefe,
Killing in relapse of Mortalitie.
Let me
speake prowdly: Tell the Constable,
We are but Warriors for the working
day:
Our Gaynesse and our Gilt are all besmyrcht
With raynie Marching in
the painefull field.
There's not a piece of feather in our Hoast:
Good
argument (I hope) we will not flye:
And time hath worne vs into
slouenrie.
But by the Masse, our hearts are in the trim:
And my poore
Souldiers tell me, yet ere Night,
They'le be in fresher Robes, or they will
pluck
The gay new Coats o're the French Souldiers heads,
And turne them
out of seruice. If they doe this,
As if God please, they shall; my Ransome
then
Will soone be leuyed.
Herauld, saue thou thy labour:
Come thou no
more for Ransome, gentle Herauld,
They shall haue none, I sweare, but these
my ioynts:
Which if they haue, as I will leaue vm them,
Shall yeeld them
little, tell the Constable
Mont. I shall, King Harry. And so fare thee well:
Thou neuer
shalt heare Herauld any more.
Enter.
King. I feare thou wilt once more come againe for
a
Ransome.
Enter Yorke.
Yorke. My Lord, most humbly on my knee I begge
The leading of the
Vaward
King. Take it, braue Yorke.
Now Souldiers march away,
And
how thou pleasest God, dispose the day.
Exeunt.
Alarum. Excursions. Enter Pistoll, French Souldier, Boy.
Pist. Yeeld Curre
French. Ie pense que vous estes le Gentilhome de bon qualitee
Pist. Qualtitie calmie custure me. Art thou a Gentleman?
What
is thy Name? discusse
French. O Seigneur Dieu
Pist. O Signieur Dewe should be a Gentleman: perpend
my words
O Signieur Dewe, and marke: O Signieur
Dewe, thou dyest on point of Fox,
except O Signieur
thou doe giue to me egregious Ransome
French. O prennes miserecordie aye pitez de moy
Pist. Moy shall not serue, I will haue fortie Moyes: for
I
will fetch thy rymme out at thy Throat, in droppes of
Crimson blood
French. Est il impossible d' eschapper le force de ton bras
Pist. Brasse, Curre? thou damned and luxurious
Mountaine
Goat, offer'st me Brasse?
French. O perdonne moy
Pist. Say'st thou me so? is that a Tonne of Moyes?
Come
hither boy, aske me this slaue in French what is his
Name
Boy. Escoute comment estes vous appelle?
French.
Mounsieur le Fer
Boy. He sayes his Name is M. Fer
Pist. M. Fer: Ile fer him, and firke him, and ferret
him:
discusse the same in French vnto him
Boy. I doe not know the French for fer, and ferret,
and
firke
Pist. Bid him prepare, for I will cut his throat
French. Que dit il Mounsieur?
Boy. Il me commande a
vous dire que vous faite vous
prest, car ce soldat icy est disposee tout
asture de couppes vostre
gorge
Pist. Owy, cuppele gorge permafoy pesant, vnlesse
thou giue
me Crownes, braue Crownes; or mangled shalt
thou be by this my Sword
French. O Ie vous supplie pour l' amour de Dieu: ma
pardonner,
Ie suis le Gentilhome de bon maison, garde ma vie, &
Ie
vous donneray deux cent escus
Pist. What are his words?
Boy. He prayes you to saue
his life, he is a Gentleman
of a good house, and for his ransom he will giue
you two
hundred Crownes
Pist. Tell him my fury shall abate, and I the Crownes
will
take
Fren. Petit Monsieur que dit il?
Boy. Encore qu'il et
contra son Iurement, de pardonner aucune
prisonner: neantmons pour les escues
que vous layt a promets,
il est content a vous donnes le liberte le
franchisement
Fre. Sur mes genoux se vous donnes milles remercious, et
Ie
me estime heurex que Ie intombe, entre les main d' vn Cheualier
Ie pense le
plus braue valiant et tres distime signieur
d' Angleterre
Pist. Expound vnto me boy
Boy. He giues you vpon his knees a thousand thanks,
and he
esteemes himselfe happy, that he hath falne into
the hands of one (as he
thinkes) the most braue, valorous
and thrice-worthy signeur of England
Pist. As I sucke blood, I will some mercy shew.
Follow
mee
Boy. Saaue vous le grand Capitaine?
I did neuer know so full
a voyce issue from so emptie a
heart: but the saying is true, The empty
vessel makes the
greatest sound, Bardolfe and Nym had tenne times
more
valour, then this roaring diuell i'th olde play, that euerie
one may
payre his nayles with a woodden dagger, and
they are both hang'd, and so
would this be, if hee durst
steale any thing aduenturously. I must stay with
the
Lackies with the luggage of our camp, the French might
haue a good
pray of vs, if he knew of it, for there is none
to guard it but
boyes.
Enter.
Enter Constable, Orleance, Burbon, Dolphin, and Rambures.
Con. O Diable
Orl. O signeur le iour et perdia, toute et perdie
Dol. Mor Dieu ma vie, all is confounded all,
Reproach, and
euerlasting shame
Sits mocking in our Plumes.
A short Alarum.
O meschante Fortune, do not runne away
Con. Why all our rankes are broke
Dol. O perdurable shame, let's stab our selues:
Be these the
wretches that we plaid at dice for?
Orl. Is this the King we sent too,
for his ransome?
Bur. Shame, and eternall shame, nothing but
shame,
Let vs dye in once more backe againe,
And he that will not follow
Burbon now,
Let him go hence, and with his cap in hand
Like a base Pander
hold the Chamber doore,
Whilst a base slaue, no gentler then my dogge,
His
fairest daughter is contaminated
Con. Disorder that hath spoyl'd vs, friend vs now,
Let vs on
heapes go offer vp our liues
Orl. We are enow yet liuing in the Field,
To smother vp the
English in our throngs,
If any order might be thought vpon
Bur. The diuell take Order now, Ile to the throng;
Let life
be short, else shame will be too long.
Enter.
Alarum. Enter the King and his trayne, with Prisoners.
King. Well haue we done, thrice-valiant Countrimen,
But all's not
done, yet keepe the French the field
Exe. The D[uke]. of York commends him to your Maiesty
King. Liues he good Vnckle: thrice within this houre
I saw him downe; thrice
vp againe, and fighting,
From Helmet to the spurre, all blood he was
Exe. In which array (braue Soldier) doth he lye,
Larding the
plaine: and by his bloody side,
(Yoake-fellow to his
honour-owing-wounds)
The Noble Earle of Suffolke also lyes.
Suffolke first
dyed, and Yorke all hagled ouer
Comes to him, where in gore he lay
insteeped,
And takes him by the Beard, kisses the gashes
That bloodily did
yawne vpon his face.
He cryes aloud; Tarry my Cosin Suffolke,
My soule
shall thine keepe company to heauen:
Tarry (sweet soule) for mine, then flye
a-brest:
As in this glorious and well-foughten field
We kept together in
our Chiualrie.
Vpon these words I came, and cheer'd him vp,
He smil'd me
in the face, raught me his hand,
And with a feeble gripe, sayes: Deere my
Lord,
Commend my seruice to my Soueraigne,
So did he turne, and ouer
Suffolkes necke
He threw his wounded arme, and kist his lippes,
And so
espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd
A Testament of
Noble-ending-loue:
The prettie and sweet manner of it forc'd
Those waters
from me, which I would haue stop'd,
But I had not so much of man in
mee,
And all my mother came into mine eyes,
And gaue me vp to teares
King. I blame you not,
For hearing this, I must perforce
compound
With mixtfull eyes, or they will issue to.
Alarum
But hearke, what new alarum is this same?
The French haue re-enforc'd
their scatter'd men:
Then euery souldiour kill his Prisoners,
Giue the
word through.
Exit
Actus Quartus.
Enter Fluellen and Gower.
Flu. Kill the poyes and the luggage, 'Tis expressely
against the
Law of Armes, tis as arrant a peece of knauery
marke you now, as can bee
offert in your Conscience
now, is it not?
Gow. Tis certaine,
there's not a boy left aliue, and the
Cowardly Rascalls that ranne from the
battaile ha' done
this slaughter: besides they haue burned and carried
away
all that was in the Kings Tent, wherefore the King
most worthily hath
caus'd euery soldiour to cut his prisoners
throat. O 'tis a gallant King
Flu. I, hee was porne at Monmouth Captaine Gower:
What call
you the Townes name where Alexander the
pig was borne?
Gow.
Alexander the Great
Flu. Why I pray you, is not pig, great? The pig, or
the
great, or the mighty, or the huge, or the magnanimous,
are all one
reckonings, saue the phrase is a litle variations
Gower. I thinke Alexander the Great was borne in
Macedon, his
Father was called Phillip of Macedon, as I
take it
Flu. I thinke it is in Macedon where Alexander is
porne: I
tell you Captaine, if you looke in the Maps of
the Orld, I warrant you sall
finde in the comparisons betweene
Macedon & Monmouth, that the situations
looke
you, is both alike. There is a Riuer in Macedon, & there
is also
moreouer a Riuer at Monmouth, it is call'd Wye at
Monmouth: but it is out of
my praines, what is the name
of the other Riuer: but 'tis all one, tis alike
as my fingers
is to my fingers, and there is Salmons in both. If you
marke
Alexanders life well, Harry of Monmouthes life is
come after it indifferent
well, for there is figures in all
things. Alexander God knowes, and you know,
in his
rages, and his furies, and his wraths, and his chollers, and
his
moodes, and his displeasures, and his indignations,
and also being a little
intoxicates in his praines, did in
his Ales and his angers (looke you) kill
his best friend
Clytus
Gow. Our King is not like him in that, he neuer kill'd
any of
his friends
Flu. It is not well done (marke you now) to take the
tales
out of my mouth, ere it is made and finished. I speak
but in the figures, and
comparisons of it: as Alexander
kild his friend Clytus, being in his Ales and
his Cuppes; so
also Harry Monmouth being in his right wittes, and his
good
iudgements, turn'd away the fat Knight with the
great belly doublet: he was
full of iests, and gypes, and
knaueries, and mockes, I haue forgot his
name
Gow. Sir Iohn Falstaffe
Flu. That is he: Ile tell you, there is good men porne
at
Monmouth
Gow. Heere comes his Maiesty.
Alarum. Enter King Harry and Burbon with prisoners. Flourish.
King. I was not angry since I came to France,
Vntill this instant.
Take a Trumpet Herald,
Ride thou vnto the Horsemen on yond hill:
If they
will fight with vs, bid them come downe,
Or voyde the field: they do offend
our sight.
If they'l do neither, we will come to them,
And make them sker
away, as swift as stones
Enforced from the old Assyrian slings:
Besides,
wee'l cut the throats of those we haue,
And not a man of them that we shall
take,
Shall taste our mercy. Go and tell them so.
Enter Montioy.
Exe. Here comes the Herald of the French, my Liege
Glou. His
eyes are humbler then they vs'd to be
King. How now, what meanes this Herald? Knowst
thou
not,
That I haue fin'd these bones of mine for ransome?
Com'st thou againe
for ransome?
Her. No great King:
I come to thee for charitable
License,
That we may wander ore this bloody field,
To booke our dead, and
then to bury them,
To sort our Nobles from our common men.
For many of our
Princes (woe the while)
Lye drown'd and soak'd in mercenary blood:
So do
our vulgar drench their peasant limbes
In blood of Princes, and with wounded
steeds
Fret fet-locke deepe in gore, and with wilde rage
Yerke out their
armed heeles at their dead masters,
Killing them twice. O giue vs leaue great
King,
To view the field in safety, and dispose
Of their dead bodies
Kin. I tell thee truly Herald,
I know not if the day be ours
or no,
For yet a many of your horsemen peere,
And gallop ore the field
Her. The day is yours
Kin. Praised be God, and not our strength for it:
What is
this Castle call'd that stands hard by
Her. They call it Agincourt
King. Then call we this the field of Agincourt,
Fought on the
day of Crispin Crispianus
Flu. Your Grandfather of famous memory (an't please
your
Maiesty) and your great Vncle Edward the Placke
Prince of Wales, as I haue
read in the Chronicles, fought
a most praue pattle here in France
Kin. They did Fluellen
Flu. Your Maiesty sayes very true: If your Maiesties
is
remembred of it, the Welchmen did good seruice in a
Garden where Leekes did
grow, wearing Leekes in their
Monmouth caps, which your Maiesty know to this
houre
is an honourable badge of the seruice: And I do beleeue
your Maiesty
takes no scorne to weare the Leeke vppon
S[aint]. Tauies day
King. I weare it for a memorable honor:
For I am Welch you
know good Countriman
Flu. All the water in Wye, cannot wash your Maiesties
Welsh
plood out of your pody, I can tell you that:
God plesse it, and preserue it,
as long as it pleases his
Grace, and his Maiesty too
Kin. Thankes good my Countrymen
Flu. By Ieshu, I am your Maiesties Countreyman, I
care not
who know it: I will confesse it to all the Orld, I
need not to be ashamed of
your Maiesty, praised be God
so long as your Maiesty is an honest man
King. Good keepe me so.
Enter Williams.
Our Heralds go with him,
Bring me iust notice of the numbers dead
On
both our parts. Call yonder fellow hither
Exe. Souldier, you must come to the King
Kin. Souldier, why wear'st thou that Gloue in
thy
Cappe?
Will. And't please your Maiesty, tis the gage of
one
that I should fight withall, if he be aliue
Kin. An Englishman?
Wil. And't please your Maiesty, a
Rascall that swagger'd
with me last night: who if aliue, and euer dare
to
challenge this Gloue, I haue sworne to take him a boxe
a'th ere: or if
I can see my Gloue in his cappe, which he
swore as he was a Souldier he would
weare (if aliue) I wil
strike it out soundly
Kin. What thinke you Captaine Fluellen, is it fit
this
souldier keepe his oath
Flu. Hee is a Crauen and a Villaine else, and't please
your
Maiesty in my conscience
King. It may bee, his enemy is a Gentleman of great
sort
quite from the answer of his degree
Flu. Though he be as good a Ientleman as the diuel is,
as
Lucifer and Belzebub himselfe, it is necessary (looke
your Grace) that he
keepe his vow and his oath: If hee
bee periur'd (see you now) his reputation
is as arrant a
villaine and a Iacke sawce, as euer his blacke shoo
trodd
vpon Gods ground, and his earth, in my conscience law
King.
Then keepe thy vow sirrah, when thou meet'st
the fellow
Wil. So, I wil my Liege, as I liue
King. Who seru'st thou vnder?
Will. Vnder Captaine
Gower, my Liege
Flu. Gower is a good Captaine, and is good knowledge
and
literatured in the Warres
King. Call him hither to me, Souldier
Will. I will my Liege.
Enter.
King. Here Fluellen, weare thou this fauour for me, and
sticke it
in thy Cappe: when Alanson and my selfe were
downe together, I pluckt this
Gloue from his Helme: If
any man challenge this, hee is a friend to Alanson,
and an
enemy to our Person; if thou encounter any such, apprehend
him, and
thou do'st me loue
Flu. Your Grace doo's me as great Honors as can be
desir'd in
the hearts of his Subiects: I would faine see
the man, that ha's but two
legges, that shall find himselfe
agreefd at this Gloue; that is all: but I
would faine see
it once, and please God of his grace that I might see
King. Know'st thou Gower?
Flu. He is my deare friend,
and please you
King. Pray thee goe seeke him, and bring him to my
Tent
Flu. I will fetch him.
Enter.
King. My Lord of Warwick, and my Brother Gloster,
Follow Fluellen
closely at the heeles.
The Gloue which I haue giuen him for a fauour,
May
haply purchase him a box a'th' eare.
It is the Souldiers: I by bargaine
should
Weare it my selfe. Follow good Cousin Warwick:
If that the Souldier
strike him, as I iudge
By his blunt bearing, he will keepe his word;
Some
sodaine mischiefe may arise of it:
For I doe know Fluellen valiant,
And
toucht with Choler, hot as Gunpowder,
And quickly will returne an
iniurie.
Follow, and see there be no harme betweene them.
Goe you with me,
Vnckle of Exeter.
Exeunt.
Enter Gower and Williams.
Will. I warrant it is to Knight you, Captaine.
Enter Fluellen.
Flu. Gods will, and his pleasure, Captaine, I beseech
you now, come
apace to the King: there is more good
toward you peraduenture, then is in
your knowledge to
dreame of
Will. Sir, know you this Gloue?
Flu. Know the Gloue? I
know the Gloue is a Gloue
Will. I know this, and thus I challenge it.
Strikes him.
Flu. 'Sblud, an arrant Traytor as anyes in the Vniuersall
World, or
in France, or in England
Gower. How now Sir? you Villaine
Will. Doe you thinke Ile be forsworne?
Flu. Stand away
Captaine Gower, I will giue Treason
his payment into plowes, I warrant
you
Will. I am no Traytor
Flu. That's a Lye in thy Throat. I charge you in
his
Maiesties Name apprehend him, he's a friend of the
Duke
Alansons.
Enter Warwick and Gloucester.
Warw. How now, how now, what's the matter?
Flu. My Lord of
Warwick, heere is, praysed be God
for it, a most contagious Treason come to
light, looke
you, as you shall desire in a Summers day. Heere is
his
Maiestie.
Enter King and Exeter.
King. How now, what's the matter?
Flu. My Liege, heere is a
Villaine, and a Traytor,
that looke your Grace, ha's strooke the Gloue
which
your Maiestie is take out of the Helmet of Alanson
Will. My Liege, this was my Gloue, here is the fellow
of it:
and he that I gaue it to in change, promis'd to weare
it in his Cappe: I
promis'd to strike him, if he did: I met
this man with my Gloue in his Cappe,
and I haue been as
good as my word
Flu. Your Maiestie heare now, sauing your Maiesties
Manhood,
what an arrant rascally, beggerly, lowsie
Knaue it is: I hope your Maiestie
is peare me testimonie
and witnesse, and will auouchment, that this is the
Gloue
of Alanson, that your Maiestie is giue me, in your
Conscience
now
King. Giue me thy Gloue Souldier;
Looke, heere is the fellow
of it:
'Twas I indeed thou promised'st to strike,
And thou hast giuen me
most bitter termes
Flu. And please your Maiestie, let his Neck answere
for it,
if there is any Marshall Law in the World
King. How canst thou make me satisfaction?
Will. All
offences, my Lord, come from the heart: neuer
came any from mine, that might
offend your Maiestie
King. It was our selfe thou didst abuse
Will. Your Maiestie came not like your selfe: you
appear'd to
me but as a common man; witnesse the
Night, your Garments, your Lowlinesse:
and what
your Highnesse suffer'd vnder that shape, I beseech you
take it
for your owne fault, and not mine: for had you
beene as I tooke you for, I
made no offence; therefore I
beseech your Highnesse pardon me
King. Here Vnckle Exeter, fill this Gloue with Crownes,
And
giue it to this fellow. Keepe it fellow,
And weare it for an Honor in thy
Cappe,
Till I doe challenge it. Giue him the Crownes:
And Captaine, you
must needs be friends with him
Flu. By this Day and this Light, the fellow ha's
mettell
enough in his belly: Hold, there is twelue-pence for
you, and I
pray you to serue God, and keepe you out of
prawles and prabbles, and
quarrels and dissentions, and I
warrant you it is the better for you
Will. I will none of your Money
Flu. It is with a good will: I can tell you it will serue
you
to mend your shooes: come, wherefore should you
be so pashfull, your shooes
is not so good: 'tis a good
silling I warrant you, or I will change
it.
Enter Herauld.
King. Now Herauld, are the dead numbred?
Herald. Heere is
the number of the slaught'red
French
King. What Prisoners of good sort are
taken,
Vnckle?
Exe. Charles Duke of Orleance, Nephew to the
King,
Iohn Duke of Burbon, and Lord Bouchiquald:
Of other Lords and
Barons, Knights and Squires,
Full fifteene hundred, besides common men
King. This Note doth tell me of ten thousand French
That in
the field lye slaine: of Princes in this number,
And Nobles bearing Banners,
there lye dead
One hundred twentie six: added to these,
Of Knights,
Esquires, and gallant Gentlemen,
Eight thousand and foure hundred: of the
which,
Fiue hundred were but yesterday dubb'd Knights.
So that in these
ten thousand they haue lost,
There are but sixteene hundred
Mercenaries:
The rest are Princes, Barons, Lords, Knights, Squires,
And
Gentlemen of bloud and qualitie.
The Names of those their Nobles that lye
dead:
Charles Delabreth, High Constable of France,
Iaques of Chatilion,
Admirall of France,
The Master of the Crosse-bowes, Lord Rambures,
Great
Master of France, the braue Sir Guichard Dolphin,
Iohn Duke of Alanson,
Anthonie Duke of Brabant,
The Brother to the Duke of Burgundie,
And Edward
Duke of Barr: of lustie Earles,
Grandpree and Roussie, Fauconbridge and
Foyes,
Beaumont and Marle, Vandemont and Lestrale.
Here was a Royall
fellowship of death.
Where is the number of our English dead?
Edward the
Duke of Yorke, the Earle of Suffolke,
Sir Richard Ketly, Dauy Gam
Esquire;
None else of name: and of all other men,
But fiue and
twentie.
O God, thy Arme was heere:
And not to vs, but to thy Arme
alone,
Ascribe we all: when, without stratagem,
But in plaine shock, and
euen play of Battaile,
Was euer knowne so great and little losse?
On one
part and on th' other, take it God,
For it is none but thine
Exet. 'Tis wonderfull
King. Come, goe we in procession to the Village:
And be it
death proclaymed through our Hoast,
To boast of this, or take that prayse
from God,
Which is his onely
Flu. Is it not lawfull and please your Maiestie, to tell
how
many is kill'd?
King. Yes Captaine: but with this
acknowledgement,
That God fought for vs
Flu. Yes, my conscience, he did vs great good
King. Doe we all holy Rights:
Let there be sung Non nobis,
and Te Deum,
The dead with charitie enclos'd in Clay:
And then to Callice,
and to England then,
Where ne're from France arriu'd more happy men.
Exeunt.
Actus Quintus.
Enter Chorus.
Vouchsafe to those that haue not read the Story,
That I may prompt them:
and of such as haue,
I humbly pray them to admit th' excuse
Of time, of
numbers, and due course of things,
Which cannot in their huge and proper
life,
Be here presented. Now we beare the King
Toward Callice: Graunt him
there; there seene,
Heaue him away vpon your winged thoughts,
Athwart the
Sea: Behold the English beach
Pales in the flood; with Men, Wiues, and
Boyes,
Whose shouts & claps out-voyce the deep-mouth'd Sea,
Which like
a mightie Whiffler 'fore the King,
Seemes to prepare his way: So let him
land,
And solemnly see him set on to London.
So swift a pace hath Thought,
that euen now
You may imagine him vpon Black-Heath:
Where, that his Lords
desire him, to haue borne
His bruised Helmet, and his bended Sword
Before
him, through the Citie: he forbids it,
Being free from vainnesse, and
selfe-glorious pride;
Giuing full Trophee, Signall, and Ostent,
Quite from
himselfe, to God. But now behold,
In the quick Forge and working-house of
Thought,
How London doth powre out her Citizens,
The Maior and all his
Brethren in best sort,
Like to the Senatours of th' antique Rome,
With the
Plebeians swarming at their heeles,
Goe forth and fetch their Conqu'ring
Cęsar in:
As by a lower, but by louing likelyhood,
Were now the Generall
of our gracious Empresse,
As in good time he may, from Ireland
comming,
Bringing Rebellion broached on his Sword;
How many would the
peacefull Citie quit,
To welcome him? much more, and much more cause,
Did
they this Harry. Now in London place him.
As yet the lamentation of the
French
Inuites the King of Englands stay at home:
The Emperour's comming
in behalfe of France,
To order peace betweene them: and omit
All the
occurrences, what euer chanc't,
Till Harryes backe returne againe to
France:
There must we bring him; and my selfe haue play'd
The interim, by
remembring you 'tis past.
Then brooke abridgement, and your eyes
aduance,
After your thoughts, straight backe againe to France.
Enter.
Enter Fluellen and Gower.
Gower. Nay, that's right: but why weare you your
Leeke to day?
S[aint]. Dauies day is past
Flu. There is occasions and causes why and wherefore
in all
things: I will tell you asse my friend, Captaine
Gower; the rascally, scauld,
beggerly, lowsie, pragging
Knaue Pistoll, which you and your selfe, and all
the World,
know to be no petter then a fellow, looke you now, of
no
merits: hee is come to me, and prings me pread and
sault yesterday,
looke you, and bid me eate my Leeke:
it was in a place where I could not
breed no contention
with him; but I will be so bold as to weare it in my
Cap
till I see him once againe, and then I will tell him a little
piece of
my desires.
Enter Pistoll.
Gower. Why heere hee comes, swelling like a Turkycock
Flu. 'Tis no matter for his swellings, nor his
Turkycocks.
God plesse you aunchient Pistoll: you scuruie lowsie
Knaue,
God plesse you
Pist. Ha, art thou bedlam? doest thou thirst, base
Troian, to
haue me fold vp Parcas fatall Web? Hence;
I am qualmish at the smell of
Leeke
Flu. I peseech you heartily, scuruie lowsie Knaue, at
my
desires, and my requests, and my petitions, to eate,
looke you, this Leeke;
because, looke you, you doe not
loue it, nor your affections, and your
appetites and your
disgestions doo's not agree with it, I would desire
you
to eate it
Pist. Not for Cadwallader and all his Goats
Flu. There is one Goat for you.
Strikes him.
Will you be so good, scauld Knaue, as eate it?
Pist. Base Troian,
thou shalt dye
Flu. You say very true, scauld Knaue, when Gods
will is: I
will desire you to liue in the meane time, and
eate your Victuals: come,
there is sawce for it. You
call'd me yesterday Mountaine-Squier, but I will
make
you to day a squire of low degree. I pray you fall too, if
you can
mocke a Leeke, you can eate a Leeke
Gour. Enough Captaine, you haue astonisht him
Flu. I say, I will make him eate some part of my leeke,
or I
will peate his pate foure dayes: bite I pray you, it is
good for your greene
wound, and your ploodie Coxecombe
Pist. Must I bite
Flu. Yes certainly, and out of doubt and out of question
too,
and ambiguities
Pist. By this Leeke, I will most horribly reuenge I
eate and
eate I sweare
Flu. Eate I pray you, will you haue some more sauce
to your
Leeke: there is not enough Leeke to sweare by
Pist. Quiet thy Cudgell, thou dost see I eate
Flu. Much good do you scald knaue, heartily. Nay,
pray you
throw none away, the skinne is good for your
broken Coxcombe; when you take
occasions to see
Leekes heereafter, I pray you mocke at 'em, that is all
Pist. Good
Flu. I, Leekes is good: hold you, there is a groat to
heale
your pate
Pist. Me a groat?
Flu. Yes verily, and in truth you
shall take it, or I haue
another Leeke in my pocket, which you shall eate
Pist. I take thy groat in earnest of reuenge
Flu. If I owe you any thing, I will pay you in Cudgels,
you
shall be a Woodmonger, and buy nothing of
me but cudgels: God bu'y you, and
keepe you, & heale
your pate.
Exit
Pist. All hell shall stirre for this
Gow. Go, go, you are a counterfeit cowardly Knaue,
will you
mocke at an ancient Tradition began vppon an
honourable respect, and worne as
a memorable Trophee
of predeceased valor, and dare not auouch in your
deeds
any of your words. I haue seene you gleeking & galling
at this
Gentleman twice or thrice. You thought, because
he could not speake English
in the natiue garb, he could
not therefore handle an English Cudgell: you
finde it otherwise,
and henceforth let a Welsh correction, teach
you a
good English condition, fare ye well.
Exit
Pist. Doeth fortune play the huswife with me now?
Newes haue I that
my Doll is dead i'th Spittle of a malady
of France, and there my rendeuous is
quite cut off:
Old I do waxe, and from my wearie limbes honour is
Cudgeld.
Well, Baud Ile turne, and something leane to
Cut-purse of quicke hand: To
England will I steale, and
there Ile steale:
And patches will I get vnto
these cudgeld scarres,
And swore I got them in the Gallia
warres.
Enter.
Enter at one doore, King Henry, Exeter, Bedford, Warwicke,
and
other
Lords. At another, Queene Isabel, the King, the Duke
of
Bourgougne, and
other French.
King. Peace to this meeting, wherefore we are met;
Vnto our brother
France, and to our Sister
Health and faire time of day: Ioy and good
wishes
To our most faire and Princely Cosine Katherine:
And as a branch
and member of this Royalty,
By whom this great assembly is contriu'd,
We
do salute you Duke of Burgogne,
And Princes French and Peeres health to you
all
Fra. Right ioyous are we to behold your face,
Most worthy
brother England, fairely met,
So are you Princes (English) euery one
Quee. So happy be the Issue brother Ireland
Of this good day,
and of this gracious meeting,
As we are now glad to behold your eyes,
Your
eyes which hitherto haue borne
In them against the French that met them in
their bent,
The fatall Balls of murthering Basiliskes:
The venome of such
Lookes we fairely hope
Haue lost their qualitie, and that this day
Shall
change all griefes and quarrels into loue
Eng. To cry Amen to that, thus we appeare
Quee. You English Princes all, I doe salute you
Burg. My dutie to you both, on equall loue.
Great Kings of
France and England: that I haue labour'd
With all my wits, my paines, and
strong endeuors,
To bring your most Imperiall Maiesties
Vnto this Barre,
and Royall enterview;
Your Mightinesse on both parts best can
witnesse.
Since then my Office hath so farre preuayl'd,
That Face to Face,
and Royall Eye to Eye,
You haue congreeted: let it not disgrace me,
If I
demand before this Royall view,
What Rub, or what Impediment there is,
Why
that the naked, poore, and mangled Peace,
Deare Nourse of Arts, Plentyes, and
ioyfull Births,
Should not in this best Garden of the World,
Our fertile
France, put vp her louely Visage?
Alas, shee hath from France too long been
chas'd,
And all her Husbandry doth lye on heapes,
Corrupting in it owne
fertilitie.
Her Vine, the merry chearer of the heart,
Vnpruned, dyes: her
Hedges euen pleach'd,
Like Prisoners wildly ouer-growne with hayre,
Put
forth disorder'd Twigs: her fallow Leas,
The Darnell, Hemlock, and ranke
Femetary,
Doth root vpon; while that the Culter rusts,
That should
deracinate such Sauagery:
The euen Meade, that erst brought sweetly
forth
The freckled Cowslip, Burnet, and greene Clouer,
Wanting the Sythe,
withall vncorrected, ranke;
Conceiues by idlenesse, and nothing
teemes,
But hatefull Docks, rough Thistles, Keksyes, Burres,
Loosing both
beautie and vtilitie;
And all our Vineyards, Fallowes, Meades, and
Hedges,
Defectiue in their natures, grow to wildnesse.
Euen so our Houses,
and our selues, and Children,
Haue lost, or doe not learne, for want of
time,
The Sciences that should become our Countrey;
But grow like Sauages,
as Souldiers will,
That nothing doe, but meditate on Blood,
To Swearing,
and sterne Lookes, defus'd Attyre,
And euery thing that seemes
vnnaturall.
Which to reduce into our former fauour,
You are assembled: and
my speech entreats,
That I may know the Let, why gentle Peace
Should not
expell these inconueniences,
And blesse vs with her former qualities
Eng. If Duke of Burgonie, you would the Peace,
Whose want
giues growth to th' imperfections
Which you haue cited; you must buy that
Peace
With full accord to all our iust demands,
Whose Tenures and
particular effects
You haue enschedul'd briefely in your hands
Burg. The King hath heard them: to the which, as yet
There is
no Answer made
Eng. Well then: the Peace which you before so vrg'd,
Lyes in
his Answer
France. I haue but with a curselarie eye
O're-glanc't the
Articles: Pleaseth your Grace
To appoint some of your Councell
presently
To sit with vs once more, with better heed
To re-suruey them; we
will suddenly
Passe our accept and peremptorie Answer
England. Brother we shall. Goe Vnckle Exeter,
And Brother
Clarence, and you Brother Gloucester,
Warwick, and Huntington, goe with the
King,
And take with you free power, to ratifie,
Augment, or alter, as your
Wisdomes best
Shall see aduantageable for our Dignitie,
Any thing in or
out of our Demands,
And wee'le consigne thereto. Will you, faire
Sister,
Goe with the Princes, or stay here with vs?
Quee. Our
gracious Brother, I will goe with them:
Happily a Womans Voyce may doe some
good,
When Articles too nicely vrg'd, be stood on
England. Yet leaue our Cousin Katherine here with vs,
She is
our capitall Demand, compris'd
Within the fore-ranke of our Articles
Quee. She hath good leaue.
Exeunt. omnes.
Manet King and Katherine
King. Faire Katherine, and most faire,
Will you vouchsafe to
teach a Souldier tearmes,
Such as will enter at a Ladyes eare,
And pleade
his Loue-suit to her gentle heart
Kath. Your Maiestie shall mock at me, I cannot speake
your
England
King. O faire Katherine, if you will loue me soundly
with
your French heart, I will be glad to heare you confesse
it brokenly with your
English Tongue. Doe you
like me, Kate?
Kath. Pardonne moy, I cannot
tell wat is like me
King. An Angell is like you Kate, and you are like
an
Angell
Kath. Que dit il que Ie suis semblable a les Anges?
Lady. Ouy verayment (sauf vostre Grace) ainsi dit il
King. I said so, deare Katherine, and I must not blush
to
affirme it
Kath. O bon Dieu, les langues des hommes sont plein
de
tromperies
King. What sayes she, faire one? that the tongues of
men are
full of deceits?
Lady. Ouy, dat de tongues of de mans is be full of
deceits:
dat is de Princesse
King. The Princesse is the better English-woman:
yfaith Kate,
my wooing is fit for thy vnderstanding, I am
glad thou canst speake no better
English, for if thou
could'st, thou would'st finde me such a plaine King,
that
thou wouldst thinke, I had sold my Farme to buy my
Crowne. I know no
wayes to mince it in loue, but directly
to say, I loue you; then if you vrge
me farther,
then to say, Doe you in faith? I weare out my suite: Giue
me
your answer, yfaith doe, and so clap hands, and a bargaine:
how say you,
Lady?
Kath. Sauf vostre honeur, me vnderstand well
King. Marry, if you would put me to Verses, or to
Dance for
your sake, Kate, why you vndid me: for the one
I haue neither words nor
measure; and for the other, I
haue no strength in measure, yet a reasonable
measure in
strength. If I could winne a Lady at Leape-frogge, or
by
vawting into my Saddle, with my Armour on my backe;
vnder the
correction of bragging be it spoken. I should
quickly leape into a Wife: Or
if I might buffet for my
Loue, or bound my Horse for her fauours, I could lay
on
like a Butcher, and sit like a Iack an Apes, neuer off. But
before God
Kate, I cannot looke greenely, nor gaspe out
my eloquence, nor I haue no
cunning in protestation;
onely downe-right Oathes, which I neuer vse till
vrg'd,
nor neuer breake for vrging. If thou canst loue a fellow
of this
temper, Kate, whose face is not worth Sunne-burning?
that neuer lookes in his
Glasse, for loue of any
thing he sees there? let thine Eye be thy Cooke. I
speake
to thee plaine Souldier: If thou canst loue me for this,
take me?
if not? to say to thee that I shall dye, is true; but
for thy loue, by the
L[ord]. No: yet I loue thee too. And
while thou liu'st, deare Kate, take a
fellow of plaine and
vncoyned Constancie, for he perforce must do thee
right,
because he hath not the gift to wooe in other places: for
these
fellowes of infinit tongue, that can ryme themselues
into Ladyes fauours,
they doe alwayes reason themselues
out againe. What? a speaker is but a
prater, a Ryme is
but a Ballad; a good Legge will fall, a strait Backe
will
stoope, a blacke Beard will turne white, a curl'd Pate will
grow
bald, a faire Face will wither, a full Eye will wax
hollow: but a good Heart,
Kate, is the Sunne and the
Moone, or rather the Sunne, and not the Moone; for
it
shines bright, and neuer changes, but keepes his course
truly. If thou
would haue such a one, take me? and
take me; take a Souldier: take a
Souldier; take a King.
And what say'st thou then to my Loue? speake my
faire,
and fairely, I pray thee
Kath. Is it possible dat I sould loue de ennemie
of
Fraunce?
King. No, it is not possible you should loue the
Enemie
of France, Kate; but in louing me, you should loue
the Friend of
France: for I loue France so well, that I
will not part with a Village of it;
I will haue it all mine:
and Kate, when France is mine, and I am yours; then
yours
is France, and you are mine
Kath. I cannot tell wat is dat
King. No, Kate? I will tell thee in French, which I am
sure
will hang vpon my tongue, like a new-married Wife
about her Husbands Necke,
hardly to be shooke off; Ie
quand sur le possession de Fraunce, & quand
vous aues le
possession
de moy. (Let mee see, what then? Saint Dennis
bee
my speede) Donc vostre est Fraunce, & vous estes mienne.
It is as
easie for me, Kate, to conquer the Kingdome, as to
speake so much more
French: I shall neuer moue thee in
French, vnlesse it be to laugh at me
Kath. Sauf vostre honeur, le Francois ques vous parleis,
il
& melieus que l' Anglois le quel Ie parle
King. No faith is't not, Kate: but thy speaking of
my Tongue,
and I thine, most truely falsely, must
needes be graunted to be much at one.
But Kate, doo'st
thou vnderstand thus much English? Canst thou
loue
mee?
Kath. I cannot tell
King. Can any of your Neighbours tell, Kate? Ile
aske them.
Come, I know thou louest me: and at night,
when you come into your Closet,
you'le question this
Gentlewoman about me; and I know, Kate, you will
to
her disprayse those parts in me, that you loue with your
heart: but
good Kate, mocke me mercifully, the rather
gentle Princesse, because I loue
thee cruelly. If euer thou
beest mine, Kate, as I haue a sauing Faith within
me tells
me thou shalt; I get thee with skambling, and thou
must therefore
needes proue a good Souldier-breeder:
Shall not thou and I, betweene Saint
Dennis and Saint
George, compound a Boy, halfe French halfe English,
that
shall goe to Constantinople, and take the Turke by
the Beard. Shall wee not?
what say'st thou, my faire
Flower-de-Luce
Kate. I doe not know dat
King. No: 'tis hereafter to know, but now to promise:
doe but
now promise Kate, you will endeauour for your
French part of such a Boy; and
for my English moytie,
take the Word of a King, and a Batcheler. How
answer
you. La plus belle Katherine du monde mon trescher &
deuin
deesse
Kath. Your Maiestee aue fause Frenche enough to
deceiue de
most sage Damoiseil dat is en Fraunce
King. Now fye vpon my false French: by mine Honor
in true
English, I loue thee Kate; by which Honor, I dare
not sweare thou louest me,
yet my blood begins to flatter
me, that thou doo'st; notwithstanding the
poore and
vntempering effect of my Visage. Now beshrew my
Fathers
Ambition, hee was thinking of Ciuill Warres
when hee got me, therefore was I
created with a stubborne
out-side, with an aspect of Iron, that when I
come
to wooe Ladyes, I fright them: but in faith Kate, the elder
I wax,
the better I shall appeare. My comfort is, that
Old Age, that ill layer vp of
Beautie, can doe no more
spoyle vpon my Face. Thou hast me, if thou hast me,
at
the worst; and thou shalt weare me, if thou weare me,
better and
better: and therefore tell me, most faire Katherine,
will you haue me? Put
off your Maiden Blushes,
auouch the Thoughts of your Heart with the Lookes
of
an Empresse, take me by the Hand, and say, Harry of
England, I am
thine: which Word thou shalt no sooner
blesse mine Eare withall, but I will
tell thee alowd, England
is thine, Ireland is thine, France is thine, and
Henry
Plantaginet is thine; who, though I speake it before his
Face, if he
be not Fellow with the best King, thou shalt
finde the best King of
Good-fellowes. Come your Answer
in broken Musick; for thy Voyce is Musick,
and
thy English broken: Therefore Queene of all, Katherine,
breake thy
minde to me in broken English; wilt thou
haue me?
Kath. Dat is as
it shall please de Roy mon pere
King. Nay, it will please him well, Kate; it shall
please
him, Kate
Kath. Den it sall also content me
King. Vpon that I kisse your Hand, and I call you
my
Queene
Kath. Laisse mon Seigneur, laisse, laisse, may foy: Ie
ne
veus point que vous abbaisse vostre grandeus, en baisant le
main d' une
nostre Seigneur indignie seruiteur excuse moy. Ie
vous supplie mon
tres-puissant Seigneur
King. Then I will kisse your Lippes, Kate
Kath. Les Dames & Damoisels pour estre baisee deuant
leur
nopcese il net pas le costume de Fraunce
King. Madame, my Interpreter, what sayes shee?
Lady.
Dat it is not be de fashon pour le Ladies of
Fraunce; I cannot tell wat is
buisse en Anglish
King. To kisse
Lady. Your Maiestee entendre bettre que moy
King. It is not a fashion for the Maids in Fraunce to
kisse
before they are marryed, would she say?
Lady. Ouy verayment
King. O Kate, nice Customes cursie to great Kings.
Deare
Kate, you and I cannot bee confin'd within the
weake Lyst of a Countreyes
fashion: wee are the makers
of Manners, Kate; and the libertie that
followes
our Places, stoppes the mouth of all finde-faults, as I
will doe
yours, for vpholding the nice fashion of your
Countrey, in denying me a
Kisse: therefore patiently,
and yeelding. You haue Witch-craft in your
Lippes,
Kate: there is more eloquence in a Sugar touch of
them, then in
the Tongues of the French Councell; and
they should sooner perswade Harry of
England, then a
generall Petition of Monarchs. Heere comes
your
Father.
Enter the French Power, and the English Lords.
Burg. God saue your Maiestie, my Royall Cousin,
teach you our
Princesse English?
King. I would haue her learne, my faire Cousin,
how
perfectly I loue her, and that is good English
Burg. Is shee not apt?
King. Our Tongue is rough,
Coze, and my Condition
is not smooth: so that hauing neyther the Voyce
nor
the Heart of Flatterie about me, I cannot so coniure vp
the Spirit of
Loue in her, that hee will appeare in his true
likenesse
Burg. Pardon the franknesse of my mirth, if I answer
you for
that. If you would coniure in her, you must
make a Circle: if coniure vp Loue
in her in his true
likenesse, hee must appeare naked, and blinde. Can
you
blame her then, being a Maid, yet ros'd ouer with the
Virgin Crimson
of Modestie, if shee deny the apparance
of a naked blinde Boy in her naked
seeing selfe? It were
(my Lord) a hard Condition for a Maid to
consigne
to
King. Yet they doe winke and yeeld, as Loue is blind
and
enforces
Burg. They are then excus'd, my Lord, when they see
not what
they doe
King. Then good my Lord, teach your Cousin to
consent
winking
Burg. I will winke on her to consent, my Lord, if you
will
teach her to know my meaning: for Maides well
Summer'd, and warme kept, are
like Flyes at Bartholomew-tyde,
blinde, though they haue their eyes, and
then
they will endure handling, which before would not abide
looking
on
King. This Morall tyes me ouer to Time, and a hot
Summer; and
so I shall catch the Flye, your Cousin, in
the latter end, and she must be
blinde to
Burg. As Loue is my Lord, before it loues
King. It is so: and you may, some of you, thanke
Loue for my
blindnesse, who cannot see many a faire
French Citie for one faire French
Maid that stands in my
way
French King. Yes my Lord, you see them perspectiuely:
the
Cities turn'd into a Maid; for they are
all gyrdled with Maiden Walls, that
Warre hath entred
England. Shall Kate be my Wife?
France. So please
you
England. I am content, so the Maiden Cities you
talke of, may
wait on her: so the Maid that stood in
the way for my Wish, shall shew me the
way to my
Will
France. Wee haue consented to all tearmes of reason
England. Is't so, my Lords of England?
West. The King
hath graunted euery Article:
His Daughter first; and in sequele,
all,
According to their firme proposed natures
Exet. Onely he hath not yet subscribed this:
Where your
Maiestie demands, That the King of France
hauing any occasion to write for
matter of Graunt, shall
name your Highnesse in this forme, and with this
addition,
in French: Nostre trescher filz Henry Roy d' Angleterre
Heretere
de Fraunce: and thus in Latine; Praeclarissimus
Filius noster Henricus Rex
Anglię & Heres Franciae
France. Nor this I haue not Brother so deny'd,
But your
request shall make me let it passe
England. I pray you then, in loue and deare allyance,
Let
that one Article ranke with the rest,
And thereupon giue me your Daughter
France. Take her faire Sonne, and from her blood rayse
vp
Issue to me, that the contending Kingdomes
Of France and England, whose
very shoares looke pale,
With enuy of each others happinesse,
May cease
their hatred; and this deare Coniunction
Plant Neighbour-hood and
Christian-like accord
In their sweet Bosomes: that neuer Warre aduance
His
bleeding Sword 'twixt England and faire France
Lords. Amen
King. Now welcome Kate: and beare me witnesse all,
That here
I kisse her as my Soueraigne Queene.
Flourish.
Quee. God, the best maker of all Marriages,
Combine your hearts in
one, your Realmes in one:
As Man and Wife being two, are one in loue,
So
be there 'twixt your Kingdomes such a Spousall,
That neuer may ill Office, or
fell Iealousie,
Which troubles oft the Bed of blessed Marriage,
Thrust in
betweene the Paction of these Kingdomes,
To make diuorce of their incorporate
League:
That English may as French, French Englishmen,
Receiue each other.
God speake this Amen
All. Amen
King. Prepare we for our Marriage: on which day,
My Lord of
Burgundy wee'le take your Oath
And all the Peeres, for suretie of our
Leagues.
Then shall I sweare to Kate, and you to me,
And may our Oathes
well kept and prosp'rous be.
Senet. Exeunt.
Enter Chorus.
Thus farre with rough, and all-vnable Pen,
Our bending Author hath pursu'd
the Story,
In little roome confining mightie men,
Mangling by starts the
full course of their glory.
Small time: but in that small, most greatly
liued
This Starre of England. Fortune made his Sword;
By which, the Worlds
best Garden he atchieued:
And of it left his Sonne Imperiall Lord.
Henry
the Sixt, in Infant Bands crown'd King
Of France and England, did this King
succeed:
Whose State so many had the managing,
That they lost France, and
made his England bleed:
Which oft our Stage hath showne; and for their
sake,
In your faire minds let this acceptance take.
FINIS. The Life of Henry the Fift.