Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2018 with funding from 
 Getty Research Institute 
 
 https://archive.org/details/kinghenryvhistorOOshak 
 
KING HENRY V 
 
 AN HISTORICAL, PLAY, 
 
 IN FIVE ACTS. 
 
 BY WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 - ^ - 
 
 CORRECTLY GIVEN, 
 
 FROM THE TEXT OF JOHNSON & STEEVENS. 
 
 IRemarfes. 
 
 SoulJott: 
 
 PRIMED BY AND FOR D. S. MAURICE, 
 
 Fenchurch Street; 
 
 OLD BY T. HUGHES, 35, LUDGATE STREET; .1, hYSM.iS, 
 PATERNOSTER ROW; J. GUMMING, DURI.rN ; J.SUTHER¬ 
 LAND, EDINBURGH; .Vc. <v.'. 
 
REMARKS. 
 
 This play has many scenes of high dignity, and 
 many of easy merriment. The character of the 
 king is well supported, except in his courtship, 
 where he has neither the vivacity of Hal, nor the 
 grandeur of Henry. The humour of Pistol is very 
 happily continued: his character has perhaps been 
 the model of all the bullies that have yet appeared 
 on the English stage. 
 
 The lines given to the chorus have many admi¬ 
 rers ; but the truth is, that in them a little may be 
 praised, and much must be forgiven; nor can it 
 be easily discovered, why the intelligence given 
 by the chorus is more necessary in this play, than 
 I in many others where it is omitted. The great 
 i defect of this play is, the emptiness and narrow- 
 ! ness of the last act, which a very little diligence 
 I might have easily avoided. 
 
 Johnson. 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONAE. 
 
 King Henry V. 
 
 Duke of Gloster, } ty j tr- 
 
 Duke of Bedford, ] brothers to the King. 
 
 Duke of Exeter, Uncle to the King. 
 
 Duke of York, Cousin to the King. 
 
 Earls of Salisbury, Westmoreland, and Warwick. 
 Archbishop of Canterbury. 
 
 Bishop of Ely. , 
 
 Earl of Cambridge, "1 
 
 Lord Scroop, > Conspirators against the King. 
 
 Sir Thomas Grey, ) 
 
 Sir Thomas Erpingham, Gower, Fluellen, Macmorris 
 Jamy, Officers in King Henry’s Army. 
 
 Bates, Court, Williams, Soldiers in the same. 
 
 Nym, Bardolph, Pistol, formerly Servants to Falstaff, nov 
 Soldiers in the same. 
 
 Boy, Servant to them. A Herald. Chorus. 
 
 Charles VT., King of France. 
 
 Lewis, the Dauphin. 
 
 Dukes of Burgundy, Orleans, and Bourbon. 
 
 The Constable of France. 
 
 Bambures and Grandpr6, French Lords. 
 
 Governor of Harfleur. Montjoy, a French Herald. 
 Ambassadors to the King of England. 
 
 Isabel, Qneen of France. 
 
 Katharine, Daughter of Charles and Isabel. 
 
 Alice, a Lady attending on the Princess Katharine, 
 Quickly, Pistol’s wife, an Hostess. 
 
 Lords, Ladies, Officers, French and English Soldiers, Mee 
 sengers, 'and Attendants. 
 
 The SCENE, at the beginning of the Play, lies in England 
 but afterwards, wholly in France. 
 
Enter Chorus. 
 
 j O, Fon a mase of fire, that would ascend 
 j The brightest heaven of invention ! 
 
 I A kingdom for a stage, princes to act, 
 
 ! And monarchs to behold the swelling scene! 
 
 ! Then should the warlike Harry, like himself. 
 
 Assume the port of Mars; and, at his heels, 
 
 I Leash’d in like bounds, should famine, sword, and fire, 
 i Crouch for employment. Bat pardon, gentles all, 
 
 The flat unraised spirit, that hath dar’d. 
 
 On this unworthy scaffold, to bring forth 
 So great an object: can this cockpit hold 
 1 The vasty fields of France ? or may we cram, 
 
 ' Within this wooden O, the very casques, 
 
 ! That did afiright the air at Agincourt ? 
 
 ( O, pardon ! since a crooked figure may 
 j Attest, in little place, a million ; 
 
 , And let us, ciphers to this great accompt, 
 
 On your imaginary forces work : 
 
 Suppose, within the girdle of these walls 
 Are now confin’d two mighty monarchies. 
 
 Whose high upreared and abutting fronts 
 The perilous, narrow ocean parts asunder. 
 
 Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts : 
 
 Into a thousand parts divide one man. 
 
 And make imaginary puissance; 
 
 Think, when we talk of* horses, that you see them 
 i Printing their proud hoofs i’the receiving earth ; 
 
 For ’tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings, 
 ' Carry them here and there ; jumping o’er times; 
 
 I Turning the accomplishment of many years 
 i Into an hour-glass ; for the which supply. 
 
 Admit me chorus to this history ; 
 
 Who, prologue-like, your humble patience pray, 
 Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our play. 
 
KING HENRY V. 
 
 ACT THE FIRST. 
 
 SCENE I. LONDON. AN ANTECHAMBER IN THE 
 
 king’s palace. 
 
 Enter the Archbishop of Canterbury and Bishop of Ely. 
 
 Cant. My lord. I’ll tell you,—that self bill is urg’d, 
 Which, in the eleventh year o’the last king’s reign, 
 Was like, and had indeed against us pass’d. 
 
 But that the scambling and unquiet time 
 Did push it out of further question. 
 
 Ely. But how, my lord, shall we resist it now ? 
 Cant. It must be thought on. If it pass against us. 
 We lose the better half of our possession ; 
 
 For all the temporal lands, vvhich men devout 
 By testament have given to the church. 
 
 Would they strip from us ; being valued thus,'— 
 
 As much as would maintain, to the king’s honour, 
 Full fifteen earls, and fifteen hundred knights ; 
 
 Six thousand and two hundred good esquires; 
 
 And, to relief of lazars, and weak age, 
 
 Ofindigeiit faint souls, past corporal toil, 
 
 A hundred almshouses, right well supplied ; 
 
 And to the coffers of the kiug, beside, 
 
 A thousand pounds by the year : thus runs the bill. 
 Ely. This would drink deep. 
 
 Cant. ’Twould drink the enp and all. 
 
 Ely. But what prevention ? 
 
SCENE I. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 9 
 
 Cant. The king is full of grace, and fair regard. 
 Ely. And a true lover of the holy church. 
 
 Cant. The courses of his youth promis’d it not. 
 The breath no sooner left his father’s body 
 But that bis wildness, mortified in him. 
 
 Seem’d to die too ; yea, at that very momen% 
 Consideration like an angel came. 
 
 And whipp’d the oifending Adam out of him; 
 Leaving his body as a paradise. 
 
 To envelop and contain celestial spirits. 
 
 Never was such a sudden scholar made; 
 
 Never came reformation in a flood. 
 
 With such a heady current, scouring faults; 
 
 Nor never Hydra-headed wilfulness 
 So soon did lose bis seat, and all at once. 
 
 As in this king. 
 
 Ely. We are blessed in the change. 
 
 Cant. Hear him but reason in divinity. 
 
 And, all-admiring, with an inward wish 
 
 You would desire, the king were made a prelate : 
 
 Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs, 
 
 You would say,—it hath been all-in-all his study: 
 List his discourse of war, and you shall hear 
 A fearful battle render’d you in music: 
 
 Turn him to any cause of policy. 
 
 The Gordian knot of it he will unloose. 
 
 Familiar as his garter; that,when he speaks. 
 
 The air, a charter’d libertine, is still. 
 
 And the mute wonder lurkelh in men’s ears. 
 
 To steal his sweet and honeyed sentences ; 
 
 So that the art and practic part of life 
 Must be the mistress to this theoric: 
 
 Which is a wonder, how his grace should glean it. 
 Since his addiction was to courses vain : 
 
 His companies unletter’d, rude, and shallow ; 
 
 His hours fill’d with riots, banquets, sports; 
 
10 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 And never noted in him any stndy. 
 
 Any retirement, any sequestration 
 From open haunts and popularity. 
 
 Ely. The strawberry grows underneath the nettle; 
 And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best, 
 Neighbour’d by fruit of baser quality : 
 
 And so the prince obscur’d his contemplation 
 Under the veil of wildness ; which, no doubt. 
 
 Grew like the summer grass, fastest by night, 
 
 Unseen, yet crescive in his faculty. 
 
 Cant. It must be so : for miracles are ceas’d ; 
 
 And therefore we must needs admit the means, | 
 
 How things are perfected. 
 
 Ely. But, rnygood lord. 
 
 How now for mitigation of this bill 
 Urg’d by the commons ? Doth his majesty 
 Incline to it, or no ? 
 
 Cant. He seems indiftereut; 
 
 Or, rather, swaying more upon our part. 
 
 Than cherishing the exhibitors against us: 
 
 For I have made an offer to his majesty,— 
 
 Upon our spiritual convocation ; | 
 
 And in regard of causes now in hand. 
 
 Which I have open’d to his grace at large. 
 
 As touching France,—to give a greater sum 
 Than ever at one time the clergy yet 
 Did to his predecessors part withal. 
 
 Ely. How did this offer seem receiv’d, my lord ? 
 Cant. With good acceptance of his majesty ; 
 
 Save, that there was not time enough to hear 
 (As, I perceiv’d, his grace would fain have done). 
 The severals, and unhidden passages. 
 
 Of his true titles to some certain dukedoms; 
 
 And, generally, to the crown and seat of France, 
 Deriv'd from Edward, his great-grandfather. 
 
 Ely. What was the impediment that broke this off? 
 
• SCENE 11. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 11 
 
 Cant. Tbe French ambassador, upon that instant. 
 Crav’d audience ; and the hour, I think, is come. 
 
 To give him hearing : is it four o’clock ? 
 
 Ely. It is. 
 
 Cant. Then go we in, to know his embassy j 
 Which I could, with a ready guess, declare. 
 
 Before the Frenchman speak a word of it. 
 
 Ely. I’ll wait upon you ; and I long to hear it. 
 
 [exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. THE SAME. A ROOM OP STATE IN THE 
 SAME. 
 
 Enter King Henry, Gloster, Bedford, Exeter, War¬ 
 wick, Westmoreland, and Attendants. 
 
 K. Hen. Where is iny gracious lord of Canterbury ? 
 Exe. Not here in presence. 
 
 K. Hen. Send for him, good uncle. 
 
 West. Shall we call in the ambassador, my liege ? 
 K. Hen. Not yet, cousin ; we would be resolv’d. 
 Before we hear him, of some things of weight, 
 
 That task our thoughts, concerning us and France. 
 Enter the Archbishop of Canterbury and Bishop of Ely. 
 
 Cant. God, and his angels, guard your sacred throne. 
 And make you long become it! 
 
 K. Hen. Sure, we thank you. 
 
 My learned lord, we pray you to proceed j 
 And justly and religiously unfold. 
 
 Why the law Salique, that they have in Franee, 
 
 Or should, or should not, bar os in our claim. 
 
 And God forbid, my dear and faithful lord, 
 
 That you should fashion, wrest, or bow your reading, 
 Or nicely charge your understanding soul 
 With opening titles miscreate, whose right 
 Suits not in native colours with the truth ; 
 
 For God doth know, how many, now in health. 
 
 Shall drop their blood in approbation 
 
12 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Of what your reverence shall incite us to; 
 
 Therefore take heed how you impawn our person. 
 How you awake the sleeping sword of war; 
 
 We charge you, in the name of God, take heed ; 
 
 For never two such kingdoms did contend, 
 
 Without much fall of blood ; whose guiltless drops 
 Are every one a woe, a sore complaint, 
 
 ’Gainst bim, whose wrongs give edge unto the swords 
 That make such waste in brief mortality. 
 
 Under this conjuration, speak, my lord : 
 
 And we will hear, note, and believe in heart, 
 
 That what you speak is in your conscience wash’d 
 As pure as sin with baptism. [peers. 
 
 Cant. Then hear me, gracious sovereign,—and you 
 That owe your lives, your faith, and services, 
 
 To this imperial throne;—there is no bar. 
 
 To make against your highness’ claim to France, 
 
 But this which they produce from Pharamond,— 
 
 In terrain Salicam rnulieres ne succedant. 
 
 No woman shall succeed in Salique land: 
 
 Which Salique land the French unjustly gloze. 
 
 To be the realm of France, and Pharamond 
 The founder of this law and female bar. 
 
 Yet their own authors faithfully affirm. 
 
 That the land Salique lies in Germany, 
 
 Between the floods of Sala and of Elbe : 
 
 Where Charles the Great, having subdued the Saxons, 
 There left behind and settled certain French ; 
 
 Who, holding in disdain the German women. 
 
 For some dishonest manners of their life. 
 
 Establish’d there this law,—to wit, no female 
 Should be inheritrix in Salique land ; 
 
 Which Salique, as I said, ’twixt Elbe and Sala, 
 
 Is at this day in Germany call’d—Meisen. 
 
 Thus doth it well appear, the Salique law 
 Was not devised for the realm of France: 
 
KING HENRY V. 
 
 13 
 
 Nor did the French possess the Saliqae land 
 Until four hundred one and twenty years 
 After defunction of king Pharamond, 
 
 Idly suppos’d the founder of this law ; 
 
 Who died within the year of our redemption 
 Four hundred twenty-six ; and Charles the Great 
 Subdued the Saxons, and did seat the French 
 Beyond the river Sala, in the year 
 Eight hundred five. Besides, their writers say. 
 
 King Pepin, which deposed Childerick, 
 
 Did, as heir-general, being descended 
 Of Blithild, which was daughter to king Clothair, 
 Make claim and title to the crown of France. 
 
 Hugh Capet also,—that usurp’d the crown 
 Of Charles the duke of Lorain, sole heir male 
 Of the true line and stock of Charles the Great,^— 
 
 To fine his title with some show of truth 
 (Though, in pure troth, it was corrupt and naught). 
 Convey’d himself as heir to the lady Lingare, 
 Daughter to Charlemain, who was the son 
 To Lewis the emperor, and Lewis the sou 
 Of Charles the Great. Also king Lewis the tenth. 
 Who was sole heir to the usurper Capet, 
 
 Could not keep quiet in his conscience. 
 
 Wearing the crown of France, till satisfied 
 That fair queen Isabel, his grandmother, 
 
 Was lineal of the lady Ermengare, 
 
 Daughter to Charles, the foresaid duke of Lorain : 
 
 By the which marriage, the line of Charles the Great 
 Was re-united to the crown of France. 
 
 So that, as clear as is the summer’s sun. 
 
 King Pepin’s title, and Hugh Capet’s claim, 
 
 King Lewis his satisfaction, all appear 
 To hold in right and title of the female : 
 
 So do the kings of France unto this day ; 
 
 Howbeit they would hold op this Salique law. 
 
14 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 ACT I, 
 
 To bar your highness claiming from the female j 
 And rather choose to hide them in a net, 
 
 Than amply to imbare their crooked titles 
 Usurp’d from you and your progenitors. 
 
 K. Hen. May I, with right and conscience, make 
 this claim ? 
 
 Cant. The sin upon my head, dread sovereign* 
 
 For in the book of Numbers is it writ,— 
 
 When the son dies, let the inheritance 
 Descend unto the daughter. Gracious lord. 
 
 Stand for your own ; unwind your bloody flag ; 
 
 Look back unto your mighty ancestors: 
 
 Go, my dread lord, to your great grandsire’s tomb. 
 From whom you claim ; invoke his warlike spirit. 
 And your great uncle’s, Edward the black prince j 
 Who on the French ground play’d a tragedy. 
 
 Making defeat on the full power of France ; 
 
 Whiles his most mighty father on a hill y 
 
 Stood smiling ; to behold his lion’s whelp 
 Forage in blood of French nobility. 
 
 O noble English, that could entertain 
 
 With half their forces the full pride of France j 
 
 And let another half stand laughing by. 
 
 All out of work, and cold for action ! 
 
 Ely. Awake remembrance of these valiant dead. 
 And with your puissant arms renew their feats : 
 
 You are their heir, you sit upon their throne; 
 
 The blood and courage, that renowned them. 
 
 Runs in your veins; and my thrice-puissant liege 
 Is in the very May-morn of his youth. 
 
 Ripe for exploits and mighty enterprises. 
 
 Exe. Your brother kings and monarchs of the earth 
 Do all expect that you should rouse yourself. 
 
 As did the former lions of your blood. [and might; 
 
 IFest.They know, your grace hath cause,and means. 
 So hath your highness; never king of England 
 
SCENE II. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 15 
 
 Had nobles richer, and more loyal sabjects; 
 
 Whose hearts have left their bodies here in England, 
 And lie pavilion’d in the fields of France. 
 
 Cant. O, let their bodies follow, iny dear liege, 
 W^ith blood, and sword, and fire, to win your right; 
 
 In aid whereof, vve of the spirituality 
 Will raise your highness such a mighty sum, 
 
 .,As never did the clergy at one time 
 t'Bring in to any of your ancestors. 
 
 I] K. Hen, We must not only arm to invade the French; 
 FBut lay down our proportions to defend 
 rAgainst the Scot, who will make road upon us 
 jWitli all advantages. 
 
 i Cant. They of those marches, gracious sovereign, 
 
 iSliall be a wall sufficient to defend 
 
 Our inland from the pilfering borderers. [only, 
 
 ' K. Hen. We do not mean the coursing snatchers 
 jBnt fear the main intendment of the Scot, 
 
 Who hath been still a giddy neighbour to us; 
 jFor yon shall read, that my great grandfather 
 Never went with his forces into France, 
 
 ' But that the Scot, on his unfurnish’d kingdom 
 'Came pouring, like the tide into a breach. 
 
 With ample and brim fulness of his force; 
 
 (Galling the gleaned land with hot essays ; 
 
 Girding, with grievous siege, castles and towns ; 
 
 That England, being empty of defence, 
 
 Hath shook, and trembled at the ill neighbourhood. 
 
 Cant. She hath been then more fear’d than harm’d, 
 Forbear her but exampled by herself.— [my liege i 
 When all her chivalry hath been in France, 
 
 \nd she a mourning widow of her nobles, 
 she hath herself not only well defended, 
 
 3ut taken, and impounded as a stray, 
 
 Phe king of Scots; whom she did send to France, 
 
 ’o fill king Edward’s fame with prisoner kings; 
 
 
16 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 And make your chronicle as rich with praise, 
 
 As is the ooze and bottom of the sea 
 With sunken wreck and sumless treasuries. 
 
 West. 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 unguarded nest the weasel Scot 
 Comes sneaking, and so sucks her princely eggs; 
 Playing the mouse, in absence of the cat. 
 
 To spoil and havoc more than she can eat. 
 
 Eae. It follows then, the cat must stay at home ; 
 Yet that is but a curs’d necessity; 
 
 Since we have locks to safeguard necessaries. 
 
 And pretty traps to catch the petty thieves. 
 
 While that the armed hand doth fight abroad. 
 
 The advised liead defends itself at home: 
 
 For government, though high, and low, and lower. 
 Put into parts, doth ke*ep in one concent • 
 Congruing in a, full and natural close, 
 
 Like music. 
 
 Cant. True : therefore doth heaven divide 
 The state of man in divers functions, 
 
 Setting endeavour in continual motion ; 
 
 To which is fixed, as an aim or butt. 
 
 Obedience: for so work the honey-bees ; 
 Creatures, that, by a rule in nature, teach 
 The act of order to a peopled kingdom. 
 
 They have a king, and officers of sorts: 
 
 Where some, like magistrates, correct at home ; 
 Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad; 
 Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings. 
 
 Make boot upon the summer’s velvet buds; 
 Which pillage they with merry march bring home 
 To the tent-royal of their emperor : 
 
 Who, busied in his majesty, l^rveys 
 
SCENE II. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 IT 
 
 jThe singing masons building roofs of goldj 
 The civil citizens kneading up the hone}^; 
 
 The poor mechanic porters crowding in 
 Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate ; 
 
 The sad-ey’d justice, with his surly hum, 
 
 Delivering o’er to executors pale 
 
 The lazy yawning drone. I this infer,— 
 
 That many things, having full reference 
 To one concent, may work contrariously j 
 As many arrows, loosed several ways, 
 
 Fly to one mark; 
 
 As many several ways meet in one town; 
 
 As many fresh streams run in one self sea; 
 
 As many lines close in the dial’s centre ; 
 
 So may a thousand actions, once afoot, 
 
 End in one purpose, and be all well borne' 
 
 Without defeat. Therefore to France, my liege. 
 Divide your happy England intp four; 
 
 Whereof take you one quarter into France, 
 
 And you withal shall make all Gallia shake, 
 tf we, with thrice that power left at home. 
 
 Cannot defend our own door from the dog. 
 
 Let us be worried ; and our nation lose 
 The name of hardiness, and policy. [phin. 
 
 K. Hen. Call in the messengers sent from the dau- 
 [exit an Attendant. The King ascends his throne^ 
 Mow are we well resolv’d ; and,—by God’s help; 
 
 \nd yours, the noble sinews of our power,— 
 
 France being ours, we’ll bend it to our awe, 
 
 3r break it all to pieces: or there we’ll sit, 
 
 Ruling, in large and ample empery, 
 
 Ter France, and all her almost kingly dukedoms : 
 
 )r lay these bones in an unworthy urn, 
 
 Tombless, with no remembrance over them: 
 
 Hither our history shall, with full mouth. 
 
18 
 
 KING HENRY V, 
 
 ACT 1, 
 
 Speak freely of our acts; or else our grave, 
 
 Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless mouth. 
 Not worship’d with a waxen epitaph. 
 
 Enter Ambassadors of France. 
 
 Now are we well prepar’d to know the pleasure 
 Of our fair cousin dauphin ; for, we hear, 
 
 Your greeting is from him, not from the king. 
 
 Amb. May it please your majesty, to give us leav« 
 Freely to render what we have in charge; 
 
 Or shall we sparingly show you far off 
 The dauphin’s meaning, and our embassy ? 
 
 K. Hen. We are no tyrant, but a Christian king; 
 Unto whose grace our passion is as subject. 
 
 As are our wretches fetter’d in our prisons; 
 Therefore, with frank and with uncurbed plainness. 
 Tell us the dauphin’s mind. 
 
 Amb. Thus then, in few. 
 
 Your highness, lately sending into France, 
 
 Did claim some certain dukedoms, in the right 
 Of your great predecessor, king Edward the third. 
 In answer of which claim, the prince our master 
 Says,—that you savour too much of your youth ; 
 And bids you be advis’d, there’s nought in France, 
 That can be with a nimble galliard won; 
 
 You cannot revel into dukedoms there: 
 
 He therefore sends you, meeter for your spirit. 
 
 This tun of treasure ; and, in lieu of this, 
 
 Desires you, let the dukedoms, that you claim. 
 
 Hear no more of jou. This the dauphin speaks. 
 
 K. Hen. What treasure, uncle ? 
 
 Exe. Tennis-balls, my liege. 
 
 K. Hen. We are glad, the dauphin is so pleasai 
 with us; 
 
 His present, and your pains, we thank you for : 
 When we have match’d our rackets to these balls. 
 We will, in France, by God’s grace, play a set. 
 
KtNG HENRY V. 
 
 
 Shall strike his father’s crown into the hazard: 
 
 Tell him, he bath made a match with such a wrangler, 
 Thai all the courts of France will be disturb’d 
 With chaces. And we understand him well. 
 
 How he comes o’er us with our wilder days, 
 
 Not measuring what use we made of them. 
 
 We never valu’d this poor seat of England; 
 lAnd therefore, living hence, did give ourself 
 To barbarous license ; as ’tis ever common. 
 
 That men are merriest when they are from home. 
 
 But tell the dauphin,—I will keep my state ; 
 
 Be like a king, and show my sail of greatness, 
 
 I When I do rouse me in my throne of France : 
 iFor that I have laid by my majesty. 
 
 And plodded like a man for working days; 
 
 |But I will rise there with so full a glory. 
 
 That I will dazzle all the eyes of France, 
 
 Yea, strike the dauphin blind to look on us. 
 
 And tell the pleasant prince,—this mock of his 
 Hath turn’d his balls to gun-stones ; and his soul 
 Shall stand sore charged for the wasteful vengeance 
 That shall fly with them : for many a thousand widows 
 Shall this his mock mock out of their dear husbands; 
 Mock mothers from their sons, mock castles down ; 
 And some are yet ungotlen, and unborn, 
 
 [That shall have cause to curse the dauphin’s scorn. 
 iBut this lies all within the will of God, 
 
 ^Fo whom I do appeal; and in whose name, 
 
 |rell you the dauphin, 1 am coming on, 
 iFo venge me as I may, and to put forth 
 My rightful hand in a well-hallow’d cause. 
 iillSo, get you hence in peace ; and tell the dauphin. 
 
 His jest will savour but of shallow wit, 
 jWhen thousands weep, more than did laugh at it.— 
 [Convey them with safe conduct.—Fare you well. 
 
 ' [eamwt Ambassadors. 
 
20 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 ACT I) 
 
 Exe. This was a merry message. 
 
 K. Hen, We hope to make the sender blash at it. 
 
 [descends from his throne 
 Therefore, my lords, omit no happy hour. 
 
 That may give furtherance to our expedition : 
 
 For we have now no thought in us but France; 
 
 Save those to God, that run before our business. 
 Therefore, let our proportions for these wars 
 Be soon collected ; and all things thought upon. 
 
 That may, with reasonable swiftness, add 
 More feathers to our wings ; for, God before. 
 
 We’ll chide this dauphin at his father’s door. 
 Therefore, let every man now task bis thought, 
 
 That this fair action may on foot be brought, [exeunt 
 
 -- 
 
 ACT THE SECOND. 
 
 Enter Chorus. 
 
 Chor. Now all the youth of England are on fire. 
 And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies; 
 
 Now thrive the armourers, and honour’s thought 
 Reigns solely in the breast of every man ; 
 
 They sell the pasture now, to buy the horse ; 
 Following the mirror of all Christian kings, 
 
 With winged heels, as English Mercuries. 
 
 For now sits Expectation in the air; 
 
 And hides a sword, from hilts unto the point, 
 
 With crowns imperial, crowns, and coronets. 
 Promis’d to Harry, and his followers. 
 
 Thd French, advis’d by good intelligence 
 Of this most dreadful preparation, 
 
 Shake in their fear; and with pale policy 
 Seek to divert the English purposes. 
 
 O, England !—model to thy inward greatness, 
 
!i 
 
 I SCENE I. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 21 
 
 Like little body with a mighty heart,— 
 
 What might’st thou do, that honour would thee do. 
 Were all thy children kind and natural! 
 
 But see thy fault! France hath in thee found out 
 A nest of hollow bosoms, which he fills 
 I With treacherous crowns ; and three corrupted men,— 
 
 I One, Richard, earl of Cambridge ; and the second, 
 i Henry, lord Scroop of Masham; and the third, 
 
 I Sir Thomas Grey, knight, of Northumberland,— 
 
 I Have, for the gilt of France, (O, guilt, indeed!) 
 
 I Confirm’d conspiracy with fearful France ; 
 
 I And by their hands this grace of kings most die 
 ^ (If hell and treason hold their promises,) 
 
 [ Ere betake ship for France, and in Southampton. 
 Linger your patience on ; and well digest 
 The abuse of distance, while we force a play. 
 
 I The sum is paid ; the traitors are agreed ; 
 
 I The king is set from London ; and the scene 
 i Is now transported, gentles, to Southampton : 
 
 I There is the playhouse now, there must you sit; 
 
 ! And thence to France shall we convey you safe, 
 
 And bring you back, charming the narrow seas 
 I To give you gentle pass ; for, if we may, 
 
 I We’ll not offend one stomach with our play, 
 i But, till the king come forth, and not till then, 
 
 : Unto Southampton do we shift our scene. [eortt. 
 
 ; SCENE I. THE SAME. EASTCHEAP. 
 
 Enter Nym and Bardolph, 
 
 I Bard. Well met, corporal Nym. 
 r Nym, Good morrow, lieutenant Bardolph. 
 
 |i Bard. What, are antient Pistol and you friends yet ? 
 
 Nym. For my part, I care not: I say little : hut when 
 time shall serve, there shall be smiles;—but that shall 
 be as it may. I dare not fight; but I will wink, and 
 hold out mine iron: It is a simple one; but what 
 
 |l 
 
22 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 thoagli? it will toast cheese ; and it will endure cold asi ^ 
 another man’s sword will: and there’s the humour of it. I “! 
 
 Bard. I will bestow a breakfast, to make yon friends ; > 
 
 and we’ll be all three sworn brothers to France; let it 
 
 be so, good corporal Nym, 
 
 Nym. ’Faith, I will live so long as I may, that’s the 
 
 ,ae 
 
 certain of it; and when I cannot live any longer, l j|j 
 will do as 1 may : that is my rest, that is the rendez- r 
 vons of it, 
 
 Bard. It is certain, corporal, that he is married to^*“' 
 Nell Quickly: and, certainly, she did you wrong; for’;;™ 
 you were troth-plight to her. 
 
 Nym. I cannot tell; things most be as they may:ii ' 
 men may sleep, and they may have their throats about*'® 
 them at that time ; and, some say, knives have edges. 1!"“ 
 It must be as it may : though patience be a tired mare, 
 yet she will plod. There must be conclusions. Well,!i''^i 
 Icannottell. j*” 
 
 Enter Pistol and Mrs. Quickly. J 
 
 Bard. Here comes antient Pistol, and his wife :— 
 good corporal, be patient here.—How now, mine host 1^** 
 Pistol ? 
 
 Pist. Base tike, call’st thou me—host? j''" 
 
 Now, by this hand I swear, I scorn the term ; 
 
 Nor shall my Nell keep lodgers. i 
 
 Quick. No, by njy troth, not long: for we cannot -i^' 
 lodge and board a dozen or fourteen gentlewomen, 
 that live honestly by the prick of their needles, but it ‘i 
 will be thought we keep a bawdy-house straight, 
 l^Nym draws his sword] O well-a-day. Lady, if he be 
 not drawn now ! O Lord! here’s corporal Nym’s—now | 
 shall we have wilful adultery and murder committed, 
 
 Good lieutenant Bardolph,-—good corporal, oiler 'P 
 
 nothing here. P 
 
 Nym. I’ish ! [cur of Iceland ! ' p 
 
 Pist. Pish for thee, Iceland dog; thou prick-ear'd 
 
scene I. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Quick. Good corporal Njro, show the valour of a 
 man, and put up thy sword. 
 
 Nym. Will you shog off? I would have you solus. 
 
 [sheathing his sword. 
 
 Fist. Solus, egregious dog? O viper vile ! 
 
 Theso/t/s in thy most marvellous face; 
 
 The solus in thy teeth, and in thy throat. 
 
 And in thy hateful lungs, yea, in thy maw, perdy j 
 And, which is worse, within thy nasty mouth ! 
 
 !l do retort the solus in thy bowels : 
 
 For 1 can take, and Pistol’s cock is np. 
 
 And dashing dre will follow. 
 
 Nym. 1 am not Barbason; yon cannot conjure me. 
 
 I have an humour to knock you indifferently well; If 
 you grow foul with me, Pistol, I will scour you with 
 [my rapier, as I may, in fair terms : if you would walk 
 I off, 1 would prick your guts a little, in good terms, as 
 I may ; and that’s the humour of it. 
 
 I Fist. O braggard vile, and damned furious wight! 
 [The grave doth gape, and doting death is near; 
 
 ' Therefore exhale. [Fistol and Nym draw, 
 
 Bard. Hear me, hear me what I say he that strikes ' 
 
 ijthe first stroke, Pll run him up to the hilts, as 1 am a 
 'soldier. [draws. 
 
 Fist. An oath of mickle might; and fury shall abate. 
 (Give me thy fist, thy fore-foot to me give ; 
 
 JiThy spirits are most tall. 
 
 il Nym. I will cut thy throat, one time or other, in fair 
 
 II terms ; that is the humour of it. 
 
 Fist. Coupe le gorge, that’s the word!—I thee defy 
 ! again. 
 
 |0 hound of Crete, think’st thou my spouse to get ? 
 iNo ; to the spital go, 
 
 And from the powdering tub of infamy 
 Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid’s kind, 
 
 Doll Tear-sheet she by name, and her espouse : 
 
24 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 ACT II 
 
 I have, and I will hold, the quondam Quickly 
 For the only she; and—Pauca, there’s enough. 
 
 Enter the Boy. 
 
 Boy. Mine host Pistol, you must come to my master, 
 —and you, hostess ;—he is very sick, aud would to 
 bed.—Good Bardolpb, put thy nose between his sheets, . 
 and do the ofl&ce of a warming pan: ’faith, he’s very^ ill. ( 
 
 Bard. Away, you rogue. 
 
 Quick. By my troth, he’ll yield the crow a podding 
 one of these days: the kinghas killed his heart.—Good 
 husband, come home presently, [ex. Mrs. Q. and Boy. 
 
 Bard. Come, shall I make you two friends ? We ' 
 must to France together; why, the devil, should we 
 keep knives to cut one another’s throats! 
 
 Pist. Let floods o’erswell, and fiends for food how; 
 on ! 
 
 Nym. You’ll pay me the eight shillings I won of ' 
 you at betting ? 
 
 Pist. Base is the slave that pays. 
 
 Nym, That now I will have ; that’s the humour of it. 
 
 Pist. As manhood shall compound ; push home. 
 
 Bard. By this sword, he that makes the first thrnst, 
 I’ll kill him ; by this sword, I will. 
 
 Pist. Sword is an oath, and oaths must have their 
 course. 
 
 Bard. Corporal Nym, an thou wilt be friends, be 
 friends: an thou wilt not, why then be enemies with 
 me too. Pr’ythee, put op. 
 
 Nym. I shall have my eight shillings, I won of you 
 at betting ? 
 
 Pist. A noble shalt thou have, and present pay; 
 
 And liquor likewise will I give to thee, 
 
 And friendship shall combine, and brotherhood ; 
 
 I’ll live by Nym, and Nym shall live by me ;— 
 
 Is not this just ?—for I shall sutler be 
 Unto the camp, and profits will accruq. 
 
25 
 
 iSCENE II. KING HENRY V. 
 
 I Give me thy hand. 
 
 Nym.l shall have my noble ? 
 
 Pist. In cash most justly paid. 
 
 I Nym. Well then, that’s the humour of it. 
 
 I Re-enter Mrs. Quickly. 
 
 I Quick. As ever you came of women, come in quickly 
 , to sir John. Ah, poor heart! he is so shaked of a bum¬ 
 ping quotidian tertian, that it is most lamentable to 
 'Ijbehold. Sweet men, come to him. 
 i I Nym. The king hath run bad humours on the knight, 
 that’s the even of it. 
 
 Pist. Njm, thou hast spoke the right; 
 ejiHis heart is fracted and corroborate. 
 
 Ii Nym. The king is a good king: but it must be as it 
 'l(«nay ; he passes some humours, and careers. 
 
 I Pist. Let us condole the knight; for, lambkins, we 
 will live. [exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. SOUTHAMPTON. A COUNCIL CHAMBER. 
 
 tjj Enter Exeter, Bedford, and Westmoreland. 
 
 L Bed. ’Fore God, his grace is bold, to trust these 
 traitors. 
 
 I; Exe. They shall be apprehended by and by. 
 irf West. How smooth and even they do bear them- 
 As if allegiance in their bosoms sat, [selves! 
 
 le [Crowned with faith, and constant loyalty, 
 
 111 Bed. The king hath note of all that they intend, 
 
 1 By interception which they dream not of. 
 
 ID Exe. Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow, 
 iWhom he hath cloy’d and grac’d with princely favours. 
 That he should, for a foreign purse, so sell 
 His sovereign’s life to death and treachery ! 
 
 Trumpet sounds. Enter King Henry, Scroop, Cam¬ 
 bridge, Grey, Lords, and Attendants. 
 
 I K. Hen. Now sits the wind fair, and we will aboard. 
 My lord of Cambridge,'—and my kind lord of Masham, 
 
26 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 ACT I 1 
 
 And you, my gentle knight,—give me your thoughts > 
 Think you not, that the powers we bear with us, 
 
 Will cut their passage through the force of France ; ' 
 Doing the execution, and the act. 
 
 For which we have in head assembled them ? 
 
 Scroop. No doubt, my liege, if each man do his besl j 
 K. Hen. I doubt not that; since we are well pei i 
 We carry not a heart with us from hence, [suaded i 
 That grows not in a fair consent with ours ; j 
 
 Nor leave not one behind, that doth not wish 
 Success and conquest to attend on us. 
 
 Cam. Never was monarch better fear’d, and lov’d, 1 
 Than is your majesty ; there’s not, 1 think, a subjec" j 
 That sits in heart-grief and uneasiness, i 
 
 Under the sweet shade of your government, ) 
 
 Grey. Even those that were your father’s enemies, j 
 Have steep’d their galls in honey; and do serve you )|i 
 With hearts create of duty and of zeal. 
 
 K. ilen.We therefore have great cause of thankful 
 And shall forget the office of our hand, [ness 
 
 Sooner than quittance of desert and merit. 
 
 According to the weight and worthiness. 
 
 Scroop. So service shall with steeled sinews toil; 
 And labour shall refresh itself with hope. 
 
 To do your grace incessant services. 
 
 I K. Hen. We judge no less.—Uncle of Exeter, 
 
 Enlarge the man committed yesterday. 
 
 That rail’d against our person : we consider. 
 
 It was excess of wine that set him on : 
 ffl And, on his more advice, we pardon him. 
 
 Scroop. That’s mercy, but too much security ; 
 
 Let him be punish’d, sovereign ; lest example 
 Breed, by his sufferance, more of such a kind, 
 
 K. Hen. O, let us yet be merciful. 
 
 Cam. So may your highness, and yet punish too. 
 Grey. Sir, you show great mercy, if you give him lif( 
 
M RCENE II. KING HENRY V. 27 
 
 1 1 | After tie taste of much correction. 
 
 K. Hen. Alas, your too much love and care of me 
 Are heavy orisons ’gainst this poor wretch. 
 
 If little faults, proceeding on distemper, 
 
 Shall not be wink’d at, how shall we stretch our eye, 
 t When capital crimes, chew’d, swallow’d, and digested, 
 ^ Appear before us?-—We’ll yet enlarge that man, 
 i | Though Cambridge, Scroop, and Grey,—in their dear 
 care, 
 
 'And tender preservation of our person,— 
 
 Would have him punished. And now to our French 
 Who are the late commissioners? [causes; 
 
 i|t Cam. 1 one, my lord ; 
 lYour highness bade me ask for it to-day. 
 j Scroop. So did you me, my liege, 
 r , Grey. And me, my royal sovereign. [yours ; — 
 
 I K. Hen. Then, Richard, earl of Cambridge, there is 
 There yours, lord Scroop of Masham ;—and,sir knight, 
 iljGrey of Northumberland, this same is yours :— 
 jRead them ; and know, I know your worthiness.— 
 'My lord of Westmoreland,—and uncle Exeter,— 
 
 We will aboard to-night.—Why,how now, gentlemen? 
 What see you in those papers, that you lose 
 :So much complexion ?—look ye, how they change ! 
 :Their cheeks are paper.—Why, what read you there. 
 That hath so cowarded and chas’d your blood 
 iOut of appearance ? 
 
 I Cam. I do confess my fault; 
 
 ;And do submit me to your highness’ mercy. 
 
 Grey ^ Scroop. To which we all appeal. 
 
 K. Hen. The mercy, that was quick in us but late. 
 
 By your own counsel is suppress’d and kill’d ; 
 
 You must not dare, for shame, to talk of mercy; 
 Poryour own reasons turn into your bosoms, 
 
 M dogs upon their masters, worrying them.— 
 
 See you, my princes, and my noble peers, 
 
28 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 ACT » 
 
 These English monsters! My lord of Cambridge here 
 You know, how apt our love was, to accord 
 To furnish him with all appertinents 
 Belonging to his honour ; and this man 
 Hath, for a few light crowns, lightly conspir’d. 
 
 And sworn unto the practices of France, 
 
 To kill us here in Hampton ; to the which. 
 
 This knight,—no less for bounty bound to us 
 Than Cambridge is,—hath likewise sworn.—But O ! 
 What shall I say to thee, lord Scroop ; thou cruel. 
 Ingrateful, savage, and inhuman creature! 
 
 Thou, that didst bear the key of all my counsels, 
 That knew’st the very bottom of my soul. 
 
 That almost might’st have coin’d me into gold, 
 Wouldst thou have practis’d on me for thy use ? 
 
 May it be possible, that foreign hire 
 Could out of thee extract one spark of evil, 
 
 That might annoy my finger? ’tis so strange, 
 
 That, though the truth of it stands olf as gross 
 As black from white, my eye will scarcely see it. 
 Treason, and murder, ever kept together. 
 
 As two yoke-devils sworn to either’s purpose. 
 Working so grossly in a natural cause. 
 
 That admiration did not whoop at them : 
 
 . But thou, ’gainst all proportion, didst bring in 
 Wonder, to wait on treason, and on murder : 
 
 And whatsoever cunning fiend it was. 
 
 That wrought upon thee so preposterously, 
 
 H’ath got the voice in hell for excellence: 
 
 And other devils, that suggest by treasons. 
 
 Do botch and bungle up damnation 
 
 With patches, colours, and with forms being fetch’d 
 
 From glistering semblances of piety; 
 
 But he, that temper’d thee, bade thee stand up, 
 
 Gave thee no instance why thou shouldst do treason 
 Unless to dub thee with the name of traitor. 
 
KING HENRY V. 
 
 29 
 
 pCENB II. 
 
 jj^f that same daemoD^ that hath gull’d thee thus, 
 iSbould with bis lion gait walk the whole world, 
 iHe might return to vasty Tartar back, 
 jAnd tell the legions—I can never win 
 iA soul so easy as that Englishman’s. 
 
 10, how hast thou with jealousy infected 
 [The sweetness of affiance ! Show men dutiful ? 
 
 [Why, so didst thou: seem they grave and learned ? 
 Why, so didst thou ; come they of noble family ? 
 Why, so didst thou : seem they religious 
 Why, so didst thou ; or are they spare in diet; 
 
 Free from gross passion, or of mirth, or anger; 
 Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood ; 
 Garnish’d and deck’d in modest complement; 
 
 Not working with the eye, without the ear. 
 
 And, but in purged judgment, trusting neither? 
 
 Jnch, and so finely bolted, didst thou seem ; 
 
 And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot. 
 
 To mark the full-fnaught man, and best indued. 
 
 With some suspicion. 1 will weep for thee ; 
 
 For this revolt of thine, methiiiks, is like 
 \nother fall of man.—Their faults are open, 
 
 Arrest them to the answer of the law;— 
 
 And God acquit them of their practices! 
 
 Eae. I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of 
 lichard, earl of Cambridge. 
 
 I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Henry, 
 brd Scroop of Mashara. 
 
 I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Thomas 
 Jrey, knight, of Northumberland. 
 
 Scroop. Our purposes God justly hath discover’d; 
 
 I ^nd I repent my fault more than my death ; 
 
 Yhich I beseech your highness to forgive, 
 dlhough my body pay the price of it. 
 
 I I Cam. For me,—the gold of France did not seduce; 
 idtiiough I did admit it as a motive, 
 
EO 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 ACT I!| 
 
 Tiie sooner to effect what I intended •. \ 
 
 But God be thanked for prevention; | 
 
 Which I in sufferance Iieartiiy will rejoice, ' 
 
 Beseeching God, and you, to pardon me. 
 
 Grey. Never did faithful subject more rejoice ‘ 
 At the discovery of more dangerous treason, j| 
 
 Than I do at this hour joy o’er myself, i 
 
 Prevented from a damned enterprise: 
 
 My fault, but not my body, pardon, sovereign. ■ 
 K. Hen. God quit you in his mercy! Hear you^ 
 sentence. I 
 
 You have conspir’d against our royal person, ! 
 
 Join’d with an enemj^ proclaim’d, and from his coffers 
 Receiv’d the golden earnest of our death; > 
 
 Wherein you would have sold your king to slaughtf rj 
 His princes and his peers to servitude, 
 
 His subjects to oppression and contempt, i 
 
 And his whole kingdom Onto desolation. i 
 
 Touching our person, seek vve no revenge ; ? 
 
 But we our kingdom’s safety must so tender, 
 
 Whose ruin you three sought, that to her laws 1 
 We do deliver you. Get you therefore hence. 
 
 Poor miserable wretches, to your death : 
 
 The taste whereof, God, of his mercy, give you ; 
 Patience to endure, and true repentance 
 Of all your dear offences!—^Bear them hence. ' 
 [exeunt Conspirators, guarded ] 
 Now, lords, for France ; the enterprise whereof 
 Shall be to you, as us, like glorious. 
 
 We doubt not of a fair and lucky war; i 
 
 Since God so graciously hath brought to light ' 
 
 This dangerous treason, lurking in our way, ' 
 
 To hinder our beginnings, we doubt not now. 
 
 But every rub is smoothed oft our way. j 
 
 Then, forth, dear countrymen ; let us deliver 
 Our puissance into the hand of God, 
 
SCENE III. KING H2NRY V. 31 
 
 Patting it straight in expedition. 
 
 Cfaeerly to sea ; the signs of war advance : 
 
 No king of England, if not king of France. [exeunt. 
 
 SCENE 111. LONDON. MRS. QUICKLy’s HOUSE IN^ 
 [ EASTCHEAP. 
 
 Enter Pistol, Mrs. Quickly, Nym, Bardolph, and Boy. 
 i Quick. Pr’ythee, honey-sweet husband, let me bring 
 thee to Staines. 
 
 I Fist. No ; for my manly heart doth yearn.— 
 Bardolph, he blithe;—Nym, rouse thy vaunting veins; 
 Boy, bristle thy courage up; for Falstaff he is dead. 
 And we must yearn therefore. 
 
 Bard. ’Would I were with him, wheresome’er he 
 '.is, either in heaven, or in hell! 
 
 Quick. Nay, sure, he’s not in hell; he’s in Arthur’s 
 bosom, if ever man went to Arthur’s bosom. ’A made 
 i fine end, and went away, an it had been any christ- 
 om child; ’a parted even just between twelve and 
 one, e’en at turning o’the tide; for after I saw him 
 Fumble with the sheets, and play with flowers, and 
 smile upon his fingers’ ends, I knew there was but one 
 way; for his nose was as sharp as a pen, and ’a bab¬ 
 bled of green fields. How now, sir John ? quoth I; 
 what, man ! be of good cheer. So ’a cried out—God, 
 Sod, God! three or four times: now I, to comfort 
 idliim, bid him, ’a should not think of God; I hoped, 
 •here was no need to trouble himself with any such 
 houghts yet: so, ’a bade me lay more clothes on bis 
 eet; I put my hand into the bed, and felt them, and 
 hey were as cold as any stone ; then I felt to his 
 [nees, and so upward, and upward, and all was as 
 ;old as any stone, 
 
 ^ Nym. They say, he cried out for sack. 
 
 I Quick. Ay, that ’a did. 
 
 Bard. And of women. 
 
32 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 . ACT ir. 
 
 Qiiick. Nay, that ’a did nol. ij 
 
 Boy. Yes, that’a did;, and said, they were devils i 
 incarnate. 
 
 Quick. ’A could never abide carnation; Hwas a j 
 colour he never liked. ' 
 
 Boy. ’A said once, the devil would have him about , 
 women. 
 
 Quick. ’A did in some sort, indeed, handle women; i 
 but then he was rheumatic; and talked of the whoret: 
 of Babylon. 
 
 Boy. Do you not remember, ’a saw a flea stick upon, 
 Bardolph’s nose; and ’a said, it was a black soul burn-'; 
 ing in hell-fire ? 
 
 Bard. Well, the fuel is gone, that maintained that 
 fire: that’s all the riches I got in his service. I 
 
 Nym. Shall we shog off? the king will be gone 
 from Southampton. '"i 
 
 Pisi.. Come, let’s away.—My love, give me thy lips,: 
 Look to my chattels, and my moveables ; ■ I 
 
 Let senses rule; the word is. Pitch and ; 
 
 Trust none; i 
 
 For oaths are straws, men’s faiths are wafer-cakes, ■! 
 And hold-fast is the only dog, my duck ; | 
 
 Therefore, caveto be thy counsellor. 
 
 Go, clear thy crystals.—Yoke-fellows in arms. 
 
 Let us to France ! like horse-leeches, my bojs; • i 
 To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck ! ‘ 
 
 Boy. And that is but unwholesome food, they say. : 
 Fist. Touch her soft mouth, and march. si 
 
 Bard. Farewell, hostess. [kissing her. . ; ■ 
 
 Nym. I cannot kiss, that is the humour of it; but' f 
 adieu. 
 
 Fist. Let housewifery appear; keep close, I thee> , 
 command. 
 
 Quick. Farewell; adieu. [exeunt, ff 
 
SCENE IV. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 33 
 
 SCENE IV. FRANCE. A ROOM IN THE FRENCH 
 
 king’s palace. 
 
 Enter the F7'cnch King, attended; the Dauphin, the 
 Duke of Burgundy, the Constable, and others. 
 
 ‘ Fr. King. Tims come the English with full power 
 lAnd more than carefully it us concerns, [upon us j 
 To answer royally in our defences. 
 
 Therefore the dukes of Berry, and of Bretagne, 
 
 Of Brabant, and of Orleans, shall make forth,— 
 lAiid you, prince dauphin,—with all swift despatch, 
 
 To line, and new repair, our towns of war, 
 
 ^ With men of courage, and with means defendant; 
 
 'For England his approaches makes as fierce, 
 
 I As waters to the sucking of a gulf. 
 
 It fits us then, to be as provident 
 As fear may teach us, out of late examples 
 Left by the fatal and neglected English 
 Upon our fields. 
 
 Dau. My most redoubted father. 
 
 It is most meet we arm us ’gainst the foe: 
 
 For peace itself should not so dull a kingdom 
 (Though war,nor no known quarrel, were in question,) 
 But that defences, musters, preparations. 
 
 Should be maintain’d, assembled, and collected, 
 
 \s were a war in expectation. 
 
 IFherefore, 1 say, ’tis meet we all go forth, 
 
 To iew the sick and feeble parts of France: 
 knd let us do it with no show of fear ; 
 
 No, with no more, than if we heard that England 
 Were busied with a Whitsun morris-dance: 
 llPor, my good liege, she is so idly king’d, 
 
 I'jier sceptre so fantastically borne 
 
 ir ,8ya vain, giddy, shallow, humorous, youth. 
 
 That fear attends her not. 
 
 D 
 
34 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 ACT IJ. 
 
 Con. O peace, prince dauphin! 
 
 You are too much mistaken in this king : i 
 
 Question your grace the late ambassadors,— 
 
 With what great state he heard their embassy. 
 
 How well supplied with noble counsellors, j 
 
 How modest in exception, and, withal. 
 
 How terrible in constant resolution,— 
 
 And you shall find, his vanities fore-spent 
 Were but the outside of the Roman Brutus, 
 
 Covering discretion with a coat of folly ; 
 
 As gardeners do with ordure hide those roots 
 That shall first spring, and be most delicate. 
 
 Dau. Well, ’tis not so, my lord high constalile, 
 
 But though we think it so, it is no matter: 
 
 Id cases of defence, ’tis best to w'eigh | 
 
 The enemy more mighty than he seems, | 
 
 So the proportions of defence are fill’d; 
 
 Which, of a weak and niggardly projection, 
 
 Doth, like a miser, spoil his coat, with scanting 
 A little cloth. 
 
 Fr. King. Think we king Harry strong; 
 
 And, princes, look, you strongly arm to meet him. 
 
 The kindred of him hath been flesh’d upon us; 
 
 And he is bred out of that bloody strain. 
 
 That haunted us in our familiar paths : j 
 
 Witness our too much memorable shame, P 
 
 When Cressy battle fatally was struck. 
 
 And all our princes captiv’d, by the hand 
 Of that black name, Edward black prince of Wales; 
 Whiles that his mountain sire,— on mountain standing,' 
 Up in the air, crown’d with the golden sun,— 
 
 Saw his heroical seed, and smil’d to see him j 
 
 Mangle the work of nature, and deface 6 
 
 The patterns that by God and by French fathers I 
 Had twenty years been made. This is a stem j 
 
 Of that victorious stock ; and let us fear ( 
 
SCENE IV. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 35 
 
 The native mightiness and fate of him. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. Ambassadors from Henry king of England 
 I Do crave admittance to your majesty, 
 ij Fr, King. We’ll give them present audience. Go, 
 '! and bring them. [ea. Mess, and certain Lord^. 
 
 IlYou see, this chase is hotly follow’d, friends. 
 
 Dau. Turn head, and stop pursuit: for coward dogs 
 iMost spend their mouths, when what they seem to 
 Runs far before them. Good my sovereign, [threaten 
 Take up the English short; and let them know 
 lOf what a monarchy you are the head: 
 l^elf-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin 
 As self-neglecting. 
 
 Re-enter Lords, with Exeter and Train. 
 
 Fr. King. From our brother England ? 
 
 Exe. From him ; and thus he greets your majesty: 
 He wills you, in the name of God Almighty, 
 jHiat you divest yourself, and lay apart 
 iiFhe borrow’d glories, that, by gift of heaven, 
 j By law of nature, and of nations, ’long 
 To him, and to his heirs; namely, the crown, 
 
 Vnd all wide-stretched honours that pertain, 
 l^y custom and the ordinance of times, 
 
 Jnto the crown of France. That you may know, 
 ris no sinister, nor no awkward claim, 
 
 Mck’d from the worm-holes of long-vanish'd days, 
 
 Vor from the dust of old oblivion rak’d, 
 
 He sends you this most memorable line, [gires a paper. 
 iji in every branch truly demonstrative ; 
 
 Villing you, overlook this pedigree ; 
 vnd, when you find him evenly deriv’d 
 I'rom his most fam’d of famous ancestors, 
 
 Hdward the third, he bids you then resign 
 !^our crown and kingdom, indirectly held 
 i'rom him the native and true challenger. 
 
36 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Fr.King. Or else what follows? 
 
 Eie. Bloody constraint: for if yon hide the crown 
 Even in your hearts, there will he rake for it : 
 
 And therefore in fierce tempest is he coming, i 
 
 In thunder, and in earthquake, like a Jove j 
 
 (That, if requiring fail, he will compel;) j 
 
 And bids you, in the bowels of the Lord, j 
 
 Deliver up the crown; and to take mercy ! 
 
 On the poor souls, for whom this hungry war 
 Opens his vasty jaws : and on your head 
 Turns he the widows’ tears, the orphans’ cries. 
 
 The dead men’s blood, the pining maidens’ groans. 
 For husbands, fathers, and betrothed lovers. 
 
 That shall be swallow’d in this controversy. 
 
 This is his claim, his threal’ning, and my message; 
 Unless the dauphin be in presence here, 
 
 To whom expressly I bring greeting too. 
 
 Fr. King. For us, we will consider of this further: 
 To-morrow shall you bear our full intent 
 Back to our brother England. I 
 
 Dau. For the dauphin, 1 
 
 I stand here for him; what to him from England ? 
 
 Exe. Scorn, and defiance; slight regard, contempj 
 And any thing that may not misbecome 
 The mighty sender, doth he prize you at. 
 
 Thus says my king: and, if your father’s highness . 
 Do not, in grant of all demands at large. 
 
 Sweeten the bitter mock you sent his majesty. 
 
 He’ll call you to so hot an answer for it. 
 
 That caves and womby vaultages of France 
 Shall chide your trespass, and return your mock 
 In second accent of his ordnance. 
 
 Dmi. Say, if my father render fair reply. 
 
 It is against my will: for 1 desire 
 Nothing but odds with England ; to that end, 
 
 As matching to his youth and vanity. 
 
SCENE I. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 I did present him with those Paris balls. 
 
 Eae. He’ll make your Paris Louvre shake for it, 
 
 S Were it the mistress court of mighty Europe : 
 
 And, be assur’d, you’ll find a difterence 
 (As we, his subjects, havein wonder found,) 
 
 Between the promise of his greener days, 
 
 And these he masters now; now he weighs time. 
 
 Even to the utmost grain; which you shall read 
 In your own losses, if he stay in France. [full. 
 
 I Fr. King. To-morrow shall you know our mind at 
 \ Exe. Despatch us with all speed, lest that our king 
 i; Come here himself to question our delay; 
 
 |l For he is footed in Ibis land already. [conditions: 
 jl Fr. King. You shall be soon despatch’d with fair 
 
 i A night is but small breath, and little pause. 
 
 To answer matters of this consequence. [exeunt. 
 
 ---- 
 
 I ACT THE THIRD. 
 
 I Enter Chorus. 
 
 If Cho. Thus with imagin’d wing our swift scene flies. 
 In motion of no less celerity 
 
 Than that of thought. Suppose, that you have seen 
 'The well-appointed king at Hampton pier 
 Embark his royalty ; and his brave fleet 
 With silken streamers the young Phoebus fanning, 
 Play with your fancies; and in them behold. 
 
 Upon the hempen tackle, ship-boys climbing: 
 j Hear the shrill whistle, which doth order give 
 I To sounds confus’d : behold the threaden sails, 
 
 II Borne with the invisible and creeping wind, 
 
 ;; Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow’d sea, 
 
 ( Breasting the lofty surge : O, do but think, 
 
 You stand upon the rivage, and behold 
 A city on the inconstant billows dancing; 
 
38 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 ACT III 
 
 For so appears this fleet rnajestical, 
 
 Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, follow 1 
 Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy ; 
 
 And leave your England ; as dead midnight, still. 
 Guarded with grandsires, babies, and old women, j 
 Either past, or not arriv’d to, pith and puissance : 
 
 For who is he, whose chin is but enrich’d 
 With one appearing hair, that will not follow 
 These cull'd and choice-drawn cavaliers to France ? 
 Work, work, your thoughts, and therein see a siege ; 
 Behold the ordnance on their carriages. 
 
 With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur. 
 
 Suppose the ambassador from the French comes back: 
 Tells Harry—that the king doth offer him 
 Katharine his daughter; and with her, to dowry. 
 
 Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms. 
 
 The offer likes not; and the nimble gunner 
 With linstock now the devilish cannon touches, 
 
 [alarum: and chambers go oj^.i 
 And down goes all before them. Still be kind. 
 
 And eke out our performance with your mind. [€xit,i 
 
 SCENE r. THE SAME. BEFORE HARFLEUR. 
 
 Alarums, Enter King Henry, Exeter, Bedford, Gbsterj 
 and Soldiers, with scaling ladders. 
 
 K. Hen. Once more unto the breach, dear friends.: 
 once more; 
 
 Or close the wall up with our English dead 1 
 In peace, there’s nothing so becomes a man, \ 
 
 As modest stillness and humility : 
 
 But wheu the blast of war blows in our ears, 
 
 Then imitate the action of the tiger; 
 
 Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood. 
 
 Disguise fair nature with hard-favour’d rage: 
 
 Then lend the eye a terrible aspect: 
 
 Let it pry through the portage of the head. 
 
SCENE II. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Like the brass cannon; let the brow overwhelm it, 
 
 As fearfully, as doth a galled rock 
 O’erhang and jutty his coni'ounded base, 
 
 Swill’d with wild and wasteful ocean. 
 
 Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide; 
 
 Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit 
 To his full height!—On, on, you noblest English, 
 Whose blood is set from fathers of war-proof! 
 j Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders, 
 
 I Have, in these parts, from morn till even fought. 
 
 And sheath’d their sword for lack of argument. 
 
 |i Dishonour not your mothers; now attest. 
 
 That those, whom you call’d fathers, did beget you! 
 
 I Be copy now to men of grosser blood, 
 
 And teach them how to war !—And yon, good yeomen, 
 
 I Whose limbs were made in England, show os here 
 The mettle of your pasture ; let us swear 
 That you are worth your breeding : which I doubt not; 
 For there is none of you so mean and base, 
 
 ' That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. 
 
 I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, 
 j Straining upon the start. The game’s afoot; 
 
 Follow your spirit: and, upon this charge, 
 il Cry—God for Harry ! England ! and saint George ! 
 
 1 [exeunt. Alarums: and chambers go off. 
 
 I' SCENE II. THE SAME. 
 
 Farces pass over; then enter Nym, Bardolph, Pistol, 
 and Boy. 
 
 Bard.Oo, on, on,on, on ! to the breacb,to the breach ! 
 Nym. ’Pray thee, corporal, stay ; the knocks are too 
 I hot; and, for mine own part, I have not a case of lives: 
 the humour of it is too hot, that is the very plain soug 
 of it. 
 
 Fist. The plain song is most just; for humours do 
 j abound ; 
 
40 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 ACT 111, 
 
 Knocks go and come ; God’s vassals drop and die; :' 
 
 And sword and shield, 
 
 In blood}' field, 
 
 Doth win immortal fame. 
 
 Boy. ’Would I were in an alehonse in London ! I i 
 would give all my fame for a pot of ale, and safety. , 
 Pist. And I: 
 
 If wishes would prevail with me, • 
 
 My purpose should not fail with me, ” 
 
 But thither would I hie. ! 
 
 Boy. As duly, but not as truly, as bird doth sing on i ' 
 bough. ; ' 
 
 Enter Fluellen. ‘ 
 
 Flu. Got’s plood!—Up to the preaches, you rascals: 
 will you not up to the preaches ? 
 
 [driving them forward, l! 
 
 Pist. Be merciful, great duke, to men of mould ! 
 Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage! : 
 
 Abate thy rage, great duke! [chuck ’ i' 
 
 Good bawcock, ’bate thy rage! use lenity, sweeii« 
 iVi/m. These be good humours!—your honour wins ‘1 
 bad humours. [ex. Nym, Pist. Bard, and Flu. is 
 
 Boy. As young as I am, I have observed these three C 
 swashers. I am boy to them all three ; but all they f 
 three, though they would serve me, could not be man 
 to me ; for, indeed, three such antics do not amount ll 
 to a man. For Bardolph,—he is white-livered, and « 
 red-faced; by the means whereof, ’a faces it out, but' 
 fights not. For Pistol,—he hath a killing tongue, and 
 a quiet sword ; by the means whereof ’a breaks words,: 
 and keeps whole weapons. For Nym,—he hath heard, 
 that men of few words are the best men ; and there- i 
 fore he scorns to say his prayers, lest ’a should be 
 thought a coward; but his few bad words are matched 
 with as few good deeds; for ’a never broke any man’s 
 bead but his own; and that was against a post, when 
 
I jSCENE III. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 41 , 
 
 he was drunk. They will steal any thing, and call it, 
 
 1 —purchase. Bardolph stole a lute-case; bore it 
 j twelve leagues, and sold it for three half-pence. Nym 
 and Bardolph are sworn brothers iu filching; and in 
 
 I (Calais they stole a fire-shovel: I knew, by that piece 
 of service, the men would carry coals. They would 
 have me as familiar with men’s pockets, as their gloves 
 or their handkerchiefs: which makes much against 
 imy manhood, if 1 should take from another’s pocket 
 to put into mine; for it is plain pocketing np of 
 
 II .wrongs. I most leave them, and seek some better 
 service : their villany goes against my weak stomach, 
 
 ■and therefore I must cast it up. [exit Boy. 
 
 s' Re-enter FLuelleny Gower following. 
 
 I Gow. Captain Fluellen, you must come presently to 
 i, I the mines ; the duke of Gloster would speak with you. 
 t FUt,. To the mines ! tell you the duke, it is not so* 
 jjgood to come to the mines; for, look you, the mines 
 r is iK)t according to the disciplines of the war ; the 
 et, concavities of it is not sufficient; for, look you, th’ 
 iilathversary (you may discuss unto the duke, look you), 
 i,|is dighthirnselffour yards under the countermines: by 
 lejCheshu, I think, ’a will plow up all, if there is not 
 ij|petter directions. 
 
 ij! Gow. The duke of Gloster, to whom the order of 
 )t[! the siege is given, is altogether directed by an Irish- 
 idjiman; a very valiant gentleman, i’faith. 
 it Flu. It is captain Macmorris, is it not ? 
 ij| Gow. I think, it be. 
 
 s| Flu. By Chesbu he is an ass, as in the ’orld ; I will 
 i, terify as much in his peard: he has no more directions 
 ii the true disciplines of the wars, look you, of the 
 ej Rjman disciplines, than is a puppy-dog. , 
 j Fnter Macmorris and Jamy, at a distance. 
 j low. Here ’a comes ; and the Scots captain, captain 
 II Jaiiy, with him. 
 
42 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 ACT II 
 
 Flu, Captain Jamy is a marvellous falorous gentle ||i 
 man, that is certain; and of great expedition, ansi, 
 knowledge, in the antient wars, upon my particula 
 knowledge of his directions : by Cheshu, he will main t 
 tain his argument as well as any military man in th I 
 ’orld, in the disciplines of the pristine wars of th', 
 Romans, 
 
 Jamy. I say, gud-day, captain Fluellen. ! s 
 
 Flu. God-den to your worship, goot captain Jamy 
 Goio. How now, captain Maemorris? have you qui n 
 the mines ? have the pioneers given o’er ? 
 
 Mac. By Chrish la, tish ill done ; the work ish givii| i 
 over, the trumpet sound the retreat. By my hand, f 
 swear, and by my father’s soul, the work ish ill done 
 it ish give over : 1 would have blowedup the town,st | 
 Chrish save me, la, in an hour. O, tish ill done, tisl I 
 ill done; by my hand, tish ill done! tr 
 
 Flu. Captain Maemorris, I peseech you now, wil j 
 you voutsafe me, look you, a few disputations witli in 
 you p as partly touching or concerning the disciplini,: jj 
 of the war, the Roman wars, in the way of argument' 
 look you, and friendly communication ; partly, to sa j, 
 tisfy my opinion, and partly, for the satisfaction, lool 
 you, of my mind, as touching the direction of the mi 
 litary discipline ; that is the point. 
 
 Jamy. It sail be very gud, gud feith, gud captainij 
 both : and I sail quit you with gud leve, as 1 maypicl ; jj 
 occasion ; that sail I, marry. is 
 
 Mac. It is no time to discourse, so Chrish save me | j 
 the day is hot, and the weather, and the wars, and tki: ^ 
 king, and the dukes; it is no time to discourse. Tie 
 town is beseeched, and the trumpet calls us to tie 
 breach ; and we talk, and, by Chrish, do nothing; tis ^ 
 shame for us all; so God sa’ me, ’tis shame to staid 
 still; it is shame, by my hand : and there is throaS toi| 
 
">1tisC£NE III. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 43 
 
 jme cut, and works to be done ; and there ish nothing 
 ||done, so Chrish sa’ me, la. 
 
 Jamy. By the mess, ere theise eyes of mine take 
 Ithemselves to slumber, aile do gude service, or aile 
 Afjligge i’the grund for it; ay, or go to death; and aile 
 ®™ay it as valorously as 1 may, that sal 1 snrely do, that 
 is the brelf and the long : mary, I wad full fain heard 
 some question ’tween you tway. 
 
 Flu. Captain Macmorris, I think, look you, under 
 
 “'iiiyour correction, there is not many of your nation-- 
 
 jt Mac. Of my nation ? What ish ray nation ? ish a 
 **)jjvillaio, and a bastard, and a knave, and a rascal? What 
 lash my nation ? who talks of ray nation ? 
 
 M Flu. Look you, if you take the matter otherwise 
 “jjtban is meant, captain Macmorris, peradventure, I shall 
 '^fthink you do not use me with the affability as in dis« 
 jcrelion you ought to use me, look you ; being as goot 
 man as yourself, both in the disciplines of wars, and 
 ^ in the derivation of my birth, and in other particu- 
 ®*rlarities. 
 
 '*'li Mac. I do not know you so good a man as myself : 
 ^Tso Chrish save me, I will cut off your head. 
 
 Gow. Gentlemen both,you will mistake each other. 
 Jamy. Au ! that’s a foul fault. [a parley sounded. 
 
 I Gow. The town sounds a parley. 
 
 Flu. Captain Macmorris, when there is more better 
 ‘^[opportunity to be required, look you, I will be so bold 
 as to tell you, I know the disciplines of war; and there 
 is an end. [exeunt. 
 
 *jsCENE III, THE SAME. BEFORE THE GATES OF 
 HARFLEUR. 
 
 5 TAe Governor and some Citizens on the walls; the 
 1[! English Forces below. 
 
 Jj; Enter King Henry and his Train, 
 
 |i K. Hen. How yet resolves the governor of the town ? 
 
44 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 ACT III 
 
 This is the latest parle we will admit: ' 
 
 Therefore, to our best mercy give yourselves; 
 
 Or, like to men proud of destruction. 
 
 Defy us to our worst: for, as I am a soldier, 
 
 (A name, that, in my thoughts, becomes me best,) 
 
 If 1 begin the battery once again, ' rl] 
 
 I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur, aj 
 
 Till in her ashes she lie buried. I 
 
 The gates of mercy shall be all shut up ; 9 
 
 And the flesh’d soldier,—rough and hard of heart,— -! 
 In liberty of bloody hand, shall range I 
 
 With conscience wide as hell; mowing like grass 9 
 Your fresh-air virgins, and your flowering infants. 1 : 
 What is it then to me, if impious war,-— 
 
 Array’d in flames, like to the prince of fiends,— 
 
 Do, with his smirch’d complexion, all fell feats 
 Enlink’d to waste and desolation ? 
 
 What is’t to me, when you/yourselves are cause. 
 
 If your pure maidens fall into the hand 
 Of hot and forcing violation? 
 
 What reij! can hold licentious wickedness, i 
 
 When down the hill he holds his fierce career? 
 
 We may as bootless spend our vain command 
 Upon the enraged soldiers in their spoil. 
 
 As send precepts to the Leviathan 
 To come ashore. Therefore, you men of Harfleur, 
 Take pity of your town, and of your people, - | 
 
 Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command ' 
 
 Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace 1 
 O’erblows the filthy and contagious clouds j 
 
 Of deadly murder, spoil, and villany. j 
 
 If not, why, in a momentj look to see , ! 
 
 The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand j 
 
 Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters ; 
 Your fathers taken by the silver beards. 
 
 And their most reverend heads dash’d to the walls; 
 
!^ENE IV. KING HENRY V. 45 
 
 lYoar naked infants spitted upon spikes ; 
 jWhiles the mad mothers with their howls confus’d 
 iDo break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry 
 jjAt Herod’s bloody-hunting slaughtermen. 
 iWhat say you ? will you yield, and this avoid ? 
 
 Or, guilty in defence, be thus destroy’d ? 
 
 Gov. Our expectation hath this day an end : 
 j!The dauphin, whom of succour we entreated, 
 
 ♦ Returns us—that his powers are not yet ready 
 iiTo raise so great a siege. Therefore, dread king. 
 
 We yield our town, and lives, to thy soft mercy ; 
 
 I Enter our gates; dispose of us, and ours ; 
 
 I For we no longer are defensible. 
 
 K. Hen. Open your gates.—Come, uncle Exeter, 
 Go you and enter Harfleur ; there remain, 
 
 I And fortify it strongly ’gainst the French : 
 
 I Use mercy to them all. For us, dear uncle,— 
 
 ' The winter coming on, and sickness growing 
 Upon our soldiers,—we’ll retire to Calais, 
 i To-night in Harfleur will we be your guest; 
 To-morrow for the march are we addrest. 
 
 I [flourish ; the King, <^-c. enter the town. 
 
 SCENE IV. EOUEN. A BOOM IN THE PALACE. 
 
 Enter Katharine and Alice. 
 
 Kath. Alice, tu as este en Angleterre, et tu parle 
 hien le langage. 
 
 Alice. Un peu, madame. 
 
 Kath. Je ttprie,m’enseignez ; illfaut quefapprenne 
 d parler. Comment appellez vous la main, en Anglois ? 
 Alice. La main ? elle est appellee, de hand. 
 
 Kath. De hand. Etlesdoigts? 
 
 Alice. Les doigts? mafoy,je oublie les doigts; man 
 je me souviendray. Les doigts ? je pense, qu'ils sont 
 appelle de tingres ; ouy, de fingres. 
 
 Kath. La main, de hand ; les doigts, de fingres. Je 
 
46 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 ACT HI. 
 
 'pense, qiieje suis le bon escolier. J’ay gagne deux moh 
 d*Anglais vistement. Comment appellez votes les angles ? 
 
 Alice. Les angles? les appellons, de nails. 
 
 Katie. De nails. Escoutez; dites may, si je paries 
 Men; de hand, de fingres, de nails. i 
 
 Alice. C’est bien dit, madame; il estfort bon Anglais, , 
 
 Kath, Dites may en Anglais, le bras. 
 
 Alice. De arm, madame. 
 
 Kath. Et lecoude. 
 
 Alice. De elbow. 
 
 Kath. De elbow. Je m'enfaitz la repetition de tous 
 
 les mots, qne vous m’avez appris des a present. 
 
 Alice. II est trap difficile, madame, commeje pense. 
 
 Kath. Excusezmoy, Alice; de hand, de fingre, de 
 nails, de arm, de bilbow. 
 
 Alice. De elbow, madame. 
 
 Kath. 0 Seigneur Dieu !je m’en oublie ; de elbow. 
 Comment appellez vous le col ? 
 
 Alice. De neck, madame. 
 
 Kath. De neck ; et le menton ? 
 
 Alice. De chin. 
 
 Kath. De sin. Le col, de neck : le menton, de sin. 
 
 Alice. Ouy. Sauf vostre honneur ; en veriie, vous 
 prononces les mots aussi droict que les natifs d'Angle-^ 
 terre. -■ 
 
 Kath. Je ne doule point d’apprendre par la grace de = 
 Dieu ; et en pen de temps. 
 
 Alice. N'avez vous pas deja oublie ce que je vous ay 
 enseignee ? ' 
 
 Kath. Non, je reciteray a vous promptement, De l 
 hand, de fingre, de mails,— ' 
 
 Alice. De nails, madame. 
 
 Kath. De nails, de arme, de ilbow. i 
 
 Alice. Sauf vostre honneur, de elbow. 
 
 Kath. Ainsi dis je ; de elbovv, de neck, et de sin :' 
 Comment appellez vous lepieds et la robe? 
 
KING HENRY V. 
 
 4T 
 
 ICENE V. 
 
 Alice. De foot, madame; et de con. 
 
 I Kath. De foot, et de con ? 0 Seigneur Dieu! ces 
 \ont mots de son mauvais, corruptible, grosse, et impu- 
 \lique, et non pour les dames d’honneur d’user : Je ne 
 'oudrois prononcer ces mots devant les Seigneurs de 
 'prance, pour to^lt le monde. llfaut de foot, et de con, 
 \^eant-moins. Je reciterai une autre fois ma le^on 
 nsemble: De hand, de fingre, de nails, de arm, de 
 Ibow, de neck, de sin, de foot, de con. 
 i Alice. Eicellent, madame! 
 
 Kath. C'est assez pour une fois; allons nous d disner. 
 
 [exeunt. 
 
 CENE V. THE SAME. ANOTHER ROOM IN THE 
 SAME. 
 
 i’nter the French King, the Dauphin, Duke of Bour¬ 
 bon, the Constable of France, and others. 
 
 Fr.King. ’Tis certain, he hath pass’d the river Some. 
 
 Con. And if he be not fought withal, my lord, 
 jjet us not live in France ; let us quit all, 
 knd give our vineyards to a barbarous people. 
 
 ' Dau. 0 Dieuvivant! shall a few sprays of us,— 
 'he emptying of our fathers’ luxury, 
 
 ’>ur scions, put in wild and savage stock, 
 
 pirt up so suddenly into the clouds, 
 
 nd overlook their grafters ? [bastards ! 
 
 Bour. Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman 
 lort de ma vie! if they march along 
 Infought.withal, but I will sell my dukedom, 
 o buy a slobberly and a dirty farm 
 1 that nook-shotten isle of Albion. 
 
 Con. Dieude battailes! where have they this mettle ? 
 1 not their climate foggy, raw, and dull? 
 o whom, as in despite, the sun looks pale, 
 iilling their fruit with frowns? Can sodden water, 
 t drench for fur-rein’d jades, their barley broth. 
 
ACT II/. 
 
 48 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat? 
 
 And shall our quick blood, spirited with wine, 
 
 Seem frosty ? O, for honour of our land. 
 
 Let us not hang like roping icicles 
 Upon our Louses’ thatch, whiles a more frosty people 
 Sweat drops of gallant youth in our rich fields ; 
 Poor—we may call them, in their native lords. 
 
 Dau. By faith and honour, 
 
 Our madams mock at us; and plainly say. 
 
 Our mettle is bred out; and they will give 
 Their bodies to the lust of English youth. 
 
 To new-store France with bastard warriors. 
 
 Bour. They bid us—to the English dancing-schools. 
 And teach lavoltas high, and swift corantos ; 
 
 Saying, our grace is only in our heels. 
 
 And that we are most lofty runaways. [hence ; 
 
 Fr. King. W here is Montjoy, the herald ? speed him 
 Let him greet England with our sharp defiance..— 
 Up, princes; and, with spirit of honour edg’d,' 
 
 More sharper than your swords, hie to the field : 
 Charles, De-la-Bret, high constable of France ; 
 
 You dukes of Orleans, Bourbon, and of Berry, 
 Alencon, Brabant, Bar, and Burgundy; 
 
 Jaques Chatillion, Rarabures, Vaudemont, 
 
 Beaumont, Grandpre, Roussi, and Faucouberg, 
 
 Foix, Lestrale, Bouciquault, and Charolois ; 
 
 High dukes, great princes, barons, lords, and knights. 
 For your great seats, now quit you of great shames. 
 Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our land 
 With penn(ms, painted in the blood of Harfleur : 
 
 Rush on his host, as doth the melted snow 
 Upon the valleys; whose low vassal seat 
 The Alps doth spit and void his rheum upon ; 
 
 Go down upon him,— you have power enough,— 
 And in a captive chariot into Roiien 
 Bring him our prisoner. 
 
SCENE VI. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 49 
 
 Con. This becomes the great. 
 
 Sorry am I, his numbers are so few, 
 
 His soldiers sick, and famish’d in their march ; 
 
 For, I am sure, when he shall see our array, 
 
 He’ll drop his heart into the sink of fear. 
 
 And, for achievement, offer ns his ransom. 
 
 Fr. King. Therefore, lord constable, haste on Mont- 
 And let him say to England, that we send [joy ; 
 
 To know what willing ransom he will give.— 
 
 Prince dauphin, you shall stay with us in Roiien. 
 
 Dau. Not so, I do beseech your majesty. 
 
 Fr. King. Be patient, for you shall remain with us.—• 
 Now, forth, lord constable, and princes all; 
 
 And quickly bring us word of England’s fall, [exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VI. THE ENGllSH CAMP IN PICARDY. 
 
 Fnter Gower and Fluellen. 
 
 Goto, How now, captain Fluellen? come you from 
 the bridge ? 
 
 Flu. 1 assure you, there is very excellent service 
 committed at the pridge. 
 
 Gow. Is the duke of Exeter safe ? 
 
 Flu. The duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as 
 Agamemnon; and a man that I love and honour with 
 my soul, and my heart, and my duty, and my life, and 
 my livings, and m}" uttermost powers; he is not (God 
 be praised, and plessed !) any hurt in the ’orld ; but 
 keeps the pridge most valiantly, with excellent disci¬ 
 pline. There is an ensign there at the pridge,—-I 
 think, in my very conscience, he is as valiant as Mark 
 Antony; and he is a man of no estimation in the ’orld: 
 but 1 did see him do gallant service. 
 
 Gow. What do you call him ? 
 
 Flu. He is called—antient Pistol. 
 
 Gow. I know him not. 
 
 £ 
 
50 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 ACT 111.1 
 
 Enter Pistol. ; 
 
 Flu. Do you not know him ? Here comes the maa.i 
 Fist. Captain, I thee beseech to do me favours ; | 
 
 The dake of Exeter doth love thee well. j 
 
 Flu. Ay, I praise Got 5 and I have merited some' 
 love at his hands. 2 
 
 Fist. Bardolph, a soldier, firm and sound of heart. 
 
 Of buxom valour, hath,—by cruel fate. 
 
 And giddy fortune’s furious fickle wheel. 
 
 That goddess blind, . | 
 
 That stands upon the rolling restless stone,— ’ 
 
 Flu. By your patience, antient Pistol. Fortune is ; 
 painted plind, with a muffler before her eyes, to signify 
 to you that fortune is plind : and she is painted also : 
 with a wheel; to signify to you, which is the moral of>' 
 it, that she is turning, and inconstant, and variations^ 
 and mutabilities: and her foot, look yon, is fixed nponii 
 a spherical stone, which rolls, and rolls, and rolls;—iui 
 good truthjlhepoetismakeaiuostexcellentdescriptiou) 
 of fortune : fortune, look you, is an excellent moral. 
 
 Fist, Fortune is Bardolph’s foe, and frowns on him ; 
 For he hath stol’n a pix, and hanged must ’a he. 
 
 A damned death! 
 
 Let gallows gape for dog, let man go free, 
 
 And let not hemp his windpipe suffocate: ' 
 
 But Exeter hath given the doom of death, j 
 
 For pix of little price. . 
 
 Therefore, go speak, the duke will hear thy voice; 9 
 And let not Bardolph’s vital thread be cut 3 
 
 With edge of penny cord, and vile reproach : ' 
 
 Speak, captain, for his life, and I will thee requite. ! 
 
 Flu. Antient Pistol, I do partly understand yow 
 meaning. 
 
 Fist. Why then rejoice therefore. 
 
 Flu. Certainly, antient, it is not a thing to rejoice 
 at: for if, look you, he were my brother, I would de«.; 
 
(SCENE VI, 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 51 
 
 ) sire tbe duke to use his goot pleasure, and put him to 
 I|iexecutions; for disciplines ought to be used. 
 
 |, Fist. Die and^ damn’d ; and Jigo for thy frieud- 
 1 Flu. It is well. [ship ! 
 
 >1 Fist, The fig of Spain ! [exit Fistol. 
 
 i Flu. Very good. 
 
 I Gow. Why, this is an arrant counterfeit rascal; I 
 'remember him now ; a bawd, a cut-purse. 
 
 Flu. I’ll assure you, ’a utter’d as prave ’ords at the 
 pridge, as you shall see in a summer’s day* But it is 
 very well; what he has spoke to me, that is well, I 
 s warrant you, when time is serve, 
 j Gow. Why, ’tis a gull, a fool, a rogue ; that now and 
 0 ithen goes to the wars, to grace himself, at his return to 
 if London, under the form of a soldier. And such fel- 
 s,,]ows are perfect in great commanders’ names: and 
 D: they will learn you by rote, where services were done; 
 a '—at such and such a sconce, at such a breach, at such 
 a a convoy ; who came off bravely, who was shot, who 
 disgraced, what terras the enemy stood on ; and this 
 i; they con perfectly in the phrase of war, which they 
 I trick up with new-tuned oaths : and what a beard of 
 the general’s cut, and a horrid suit of the camp, will 
 do among foaming bottles, and ale-.washed wits, is 
 wonderful to be thought on! But you must learn tp 
 know such slanders of the age, or else } ou may be 
 marvellous mistook. 
 
 Flu. I tell you what, captain Gower;—I do perceive 
 he is not the man that he would gladly make show to 
 Ithe ’orld he is; if 1 find a hole in his coat, I will tell 
 him my mind, [drum heard.^ Hark you, the king is 
 lU coming ; and I most speak with him from llte pridge. 
 
 Enter King Henry, Gloster, and Soldiers. 
 
 f Flu. Got pless your majesty ! . [bridge ? 
 
 K. Hen, How now, Fluellen? camesrthou from the 
 Flu. Ay, so please your majesty. The duke of 
 
52 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 ACT HI. 
 
 Exeter has very gallantly maintained the pridge: the j 
 French is gone off, look you ; and there is gallant and | 
 most prave passages: marry, th’ athversary was have I 
 possession of the pridge; but he is enforced to retire, j 
 and the duke of Exeter is master of the pridge : 1 can | 
 tell your majesty, the duke is a prave man. i 
 
 K, Hen. What men have you lost, Fluellen ? I 
 
 ^ Flu. The perdition of th’athversary hath been very j 
 great, very reasonable great: marry, for my part, I 
 think the duke hath lost never a man, but one that is 
 like to be executed for robbing a church, one Bar- 
 dolph, if your majesty know the man : his face is all 
 bubukles, and whelks, and knobs, and flames of fire; 
 and his lips plows at his nose, and it is like a coal of 
 fire, sometimes plue, and sometimes red ; but his nose 
 is executed, and his fire’s out. 
 
 K. Hen. We would have all such offenders so cut 
 oft':—and we give express charge, that, in ourij 
 marches through the country, there be nothing com¬ 
 pelled from the villages, nothing taken but paid for 
 none of the French upbraided, or abused in disdainfu. ! 
 language; for when lenity and cruelty play for a king¬ 
 dom, the gentler gamester is the soonest winner. 
 
 Tucket sounds. Enter Montjoy. 
 
 Mont. You know me by my habit. 
 
 K. Hen, Well then, t know thee ; what shall I know 
 
 Mont. My master’s mind. [of thee ? 
 
 K. Hen. Unfold it. 
 
 Mont. Thus says my king :—say thou to Harry of 
 England, Though we seemed dead, we did but sleep; 
 advantage is a better soldier, than rashness. Tell hira,n 
 we could have rebuked him at Harfleur ; but that we 
 thought not good (o bruise ar\ injury, till it were full 
 ripe :—now we speak upon our cue, and our voice is 
 imperial: England shall repent his folly, see his weak- ! 
 ness, and admire our suff’erance. Bid him, therefore, 
 
SCENE VI. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 53 
 
 . consider of his ransom; which must proportion the 
 losses we have borne, the subjects we have lost, the 
 disgrace we have digested; which, in weight tore- 
 answer, his pettiness would bow under. For our 
 losses, his exchequer is too poor; for the effusion of 
 I our blood, the muster of his kingdom too faint a num¬ 
 ber ; and for our disgrace, his own person, kneeling at 
 our feet, but a weak and worthless satisfaction. To 
 this add—defiance : and tell him, for conclusion, he 
 hath betrayed his followers, whose condemnation is 
 I pronounced. So far my king and master; so much 
 my oflSce. 
 
 I K. Hen. What is thy name ? I know thy quality, 
 f Mont. Montjoy, [back, 
 
 K. Hen. Thou dost thy office fairly. Turn thee 
 And tell thy king,—1 do not seek him now ; 
 
 But could be willing to march on to Calais 
 Without impeachment: for, to say the sooth, 
 
 (Though’tis no wisdom to confess so much 
 Unto an enem}'^ of craft and vantage), 
 
 My people are with sickness much enfeebled; 
 
 My numbers lessen’d ; and those few 1 have. 
 
 Almost no better than so many French : 
 
 Who when they were in health, 1 tell thee, herald, 
 
 I thought, upon one pair of English legs 
 Did march three Frenchmen.—Yet, forgive me, God, 
 That 1 do brag thus !—this your air of France 
 Hath blown that vice in me; 1 must repent. 
 
 Go, therefore, tell thy master, here 1 am ; 
 
 My ransom, is this frail and worthless trunk ; 
 
 My army, but a weak and sickly guard ; 
 
 Yet, God before, tell him we will come on, 
 
 Though France himself, and such another neighbour. 
 Stand in our way. There’s for thy labour, Montjoy. 
 Go, bid thy master well advise himself : 
 
 If we may pass, we will; if we be hinder’d. 
 
54 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 We shall your tawny ground with your red blood 
 Discolour; and so, Montjoy, fare you well. 
 
 The sum of all our answer is but this: 
 
 We would not seek a battle, as we are; 
 
 Nor, as we are, we say, we will not shun it; 
 
 So tell your master. 
 
 Mont. I shall deliver so. Thanks to your highness 
 
 [exit Montjoy 
 
 Glo. I hope they will not come upon us now. 
 
 K. Hen. We are in God’s band, brother, notin theirs 
 March to the bridge ; it now draws towards night 
 Beyond the river we’ll encamp ourselves; 
 
 And on to-morrow bid them march away. [exeunt 
 
 SCENE vn. THE FllENCH CAMP, NEAR AGINCOUHT 
 
 Enter the Constable of France, the Lord Rambures,thl\ 
 Duke of Orleans, Dauphin, and others. 
 
 Con. Tut! 1 have the best armour of the world.— 
 ’Would it were day. 
 
 Orl. You have an excellent armour; but let ii';i 
 horse have his due. 
 
 Con. It is the best horse of Europe. 
 
 Orl, Will it never be morning? 
 
 Dau. My lord of Orleans, and my lord high consta 
 ble, you talk of horse and armour,— 
 
 Orl. You are well provided of both, as any princf! 
 in the world. 
 
 Dau. What a long night is this!—I will not changt 
 my horse with any that treads but on four pasterns 
 Ca, ha ! He bounds from the earth, as if his enlraili) 
 were hairs ; le cheval volant, the Pegasus, qui a les na 
 lines de fen ! When I bestride him, I soar, I am s 
 hawk : he trots the air; the earth sings when he 
 touches it: the basest horn of bis hoof is more musica 
 than the pipes of Hermes. j 
 
 Orl. He’s of the colour of the nutmeg. i 
 
SCENE VII. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 55 
 
 Dau. And of the heat of the ginger. It is a beast 
 for Perseus : he is pure air and fire ; and the dull ele¬ 
 ments of earth and water never appear in him, but only 
 in patient stillness, while his rider mounts him : he is, 
 indeed, a horse; and all other jades jou may call- 
 beasts. [cellent horse. 
 
 Con. Indeed, my lord, it is a most absolute and ex- 
 Dau. It is the prince of palfreys; his neigh is like 
 I the bidding of a monarch, and bis countenance en¬ 
 forces homage, 
 i Orl. No more, cousin. 
 
 I Dau. Nay, the man hath no wit, that cannot, from 
 I the rising of the lark to the lodging of the lamb, vary 
 ' deserved praise on my palfrey : it is a theme as fluent 
 I as the sea ; turn the sands into eloquent tongues, and 
 * my horse is argument for them all: ’tis a subject for a 
 I sovereign to reason on, and for a sovereign's sovereign 
 r to ride on ; and for the world (familiar to us, and un- 
 t known), to lay apart their particular functions, and 
 ^ wonder at him. I once writ a sonnet in his praise, 
 
 ! and began thus; Wonder of nature ,— 
 
 ■ Orl. I have heard a sonnet begin so to one’s mistress. 
 I Dau. Then did they imitate that which I composed 
 f to my courser; for my horse is my mistress, 
 j Orl. Your mistress bears well, 
 p Dau. Me well; which is the prescript praise and 
 
 I perfection of a good and particular mistress. 
 
 Con. Mafoy! the other day, methought, your mis¬ 
 tress shrewdly shook your back. 
 
 Dau. So, perhaps, did yours. 
 
 Con. Mine was not bridled. 
 
 Dau. O! then, belike, she was old and gentle; and 
 you rode, like a kerne of Ireland, your French hose 
 
 i olF, and in your strait trossers. 
 
 Co7i. You have good judgment in horsemanship. 
 Dau. Be warned by me then: they that ride so, and 
 
56 KING HENRY V. 
 
 ride not warily, fall iato foul bogs; I had rather have ! j 
 my horse to niy mistress. P 
 
 Con. I had as lief have my mistress a jade; 
 
 Dau. I tell thee, constable, my mistress wears her 
 own hair. ^ 
 
 Con. I could make as true a boast as that, if I had a 
 sow to my mistress. 
 
 Dau. he chien est retourne a son propre vomissement, 
 et la truie lavee au hourhier: thou makest use of anyj ^ 
 thing. 
 
 Con. Yet do I not use my h orse for my mistress; 
 or any such proverb, so little kin to the purpose. 
 
 Ram. My lord constable, the armour, that I saw in 
 your tent to-night, are those stars, or suns, upon it? 
 
 Con. Stars, my lord. 
 
 Dau. Some of them will fall to-morrow, I hope. 
 
 Con. And yet my sky shall not want. 
 
 Dau. That may be, for you bear a many super¬ 
 fluously ; and ’twere more honour, some were away. 
 
 Con. Even as your horse bears your praises; wht ; 
 would trot as well, were some of your brags dis¬ 
 mounted. 
 
 Dau. ’Would I were able to load him with his 
 desert! Will it never be day ! I will trot to-morrow a ■ 
 mile, and my way shall be paved with English faces. | 
 
 Co7i. I will not say so, for fear I should be faced out t| 
 of my way : but I would it were morning, for I would 
 fain be about the ears of the English. i 
 
 Ram. Who will go to hazard with me for twenty 
 English prisoners ? I 
 
 Con. You must first go yourself to hazard, ere you . 
 have them. 
 
 Dau. ’Tis midnight. I’ll go arm myself. [erit. 
 
 Orl. The dauphin longs for morning. 
 
 Ram. He longs to eat the English. 
 
 Con. 1 think, he will eat all he kills. 
 
 Ilf f 
 
 j 
 
SCENE VII. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 57 
 
 Orl. By the white hand of iny lady, he’s a gallant 
 prince. [oath. 
 
 Con. Swear by her foot, that she may tread out the 
 
 Orl. He is, simply, the most active gentleman of 
 France. 
 
 Con. Doing is activity: and he will still be doing. 
 
 Orl. He never did harm, that I heard of. 
 
 Con. Nor will do none to-morrow ; he will keep 
 that good name still. 
 
 Orl. I know him to be valiant. 
 
 Con. 1 was told that, by one that knows him better 
 
 Orl. What’s he ? [than you. 
 
 Con. Marry, he told me so himself; and he said, he 
 cared not who knew it. 
 
 Orl. He needs not, it is no hidden virtue in him. 
 
 Con. By my faith, sir, but it is; never any body 
 saw it, but his lackey ; ’tis a hooded valour j and when 
 it appears, it will bate. 
 
 Orl. Ill-will never said well. 
 
 Con. I will cap that proverb with—There is flattery 
 in friendship. [his due. 
 
 Orl. And I will take up that with—Give the devil 
 V Con. Well placed j there stands your friend for the 
 devil: have at the very eye of that proverb, with—A 
 pox of the devil. 
 
 Orl. You are the better at proverbs,by how much— 
 A fool’s bolt is soon shot. 
 
 Con. You have shot over. 
 
 Orl. ’Tis not the first time you were overshot. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. My lord high constable, the English lie within 
 fifteen hundred paces of your tent. 
 
 Con, Who hath measured the ground ? 
 
 Mess. The lord Grandpre. 
 
 Con. A valiant and most expert gentleman.—Would 
 it were day!—Alas, poor Harry of England!—he 
 
58 king henry V. act iv, j 
 
 t 
 
 longs not for the dawning, as we do. j 
 
 Orl. What a wretched and peevish fellow is this 
 king of England, to mope with his fat-brained follow¬ 
 ers so far out of his knowledge ! 
 
 Con. If the English had any apprehension, they 
 would run away. 
 
 Orl. That they lack; for if their heads had any in¬ 
 tellectual armour, thej”^ could never wear such heavy 
 head-pieces. 
 
 Ram. That island of England breeds very valiant 
 creatures; their mastiffs are of unmatchable courage. 
 
 Orl, Foolish curs ! that run winking into the mouth 
 of a Russian bear, and have their heads crushed like 
 rotten apples : you may as well say,-—that’s a valiant l| 
 Ilea, that dare eat his breakfast on the lip of a lion. 
 
 Con. Just, just; and the men do sympathize with i 
 the mastiffs, in robustious and rough coming on, leav¬ 
 ing their wits with their wives : and then give them ij 
 great meals of beef, and iron, and steel, they will eat 
 like wolves, and fight like devils. 
 
 Orl. Ay, but these English are shrewdly out of beef. 
 
 Con. Then we shall find to-morrow—they have only 
 stomachs to eat, and none to fight. Now is it time to 
 arm ; come, shall we about it ? 
 
 Orl. Itis now two o’clock : but, let me see,—by ten. 
 We shall have each a hundred Englishmen, [exeunt. 
 
 - 4 - 
 
 ACT THE FOURTH. 
 
 Enter Chorus. 
 
 Cho. Now entertain conjecture of a time. 
 
 When creeping murmur, and the poring dark. 
 
 Fills the wide vessel of the universe. 
 
 From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night. 
 The hum of either army stilly sounds. 
 
SCENE r. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 59 
 
 That the fix’d sentinels almost receive 
 ! The secret whispers of each other’s watch: 
 i Fire answers fire; and through their paly flames* 
 Each battle sees the other’s umber’d face ; 
 
 Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs 
 Piercing the night’s dull ear ; and from the tents. 
 The armourers, accomplishing the knights. 
 
 With busy hammers closing rivets up. 
 
 Give dreadful note of preparation. 
 
 The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll. 
 
 And the third hour of drowsy morning name. 
 
 Proud of their numbers, and secure in soul. 
 
 The confident and over-lusty French 
 I' Do the low-rated English play at dice ; 
 
 And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night, 
 
 Who, like a foul and ugly witch, doth limp 
 
 So tediously away. The poor condemned English, 
 
 Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires 
 
 Sit patiently, and inly ruminate 
 
 The morning’s danger : and their gesture sad. 
 
 Investing lank-lean cheeks, and war-worn coats, 
 
 I Presenteth them unto the gazing moon 
 I So many horrid ghosts. O, now, who will behold 
 The royal captain of this ruin’d band, 
 
 ' Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent. 
 
 Let him cry—Praise and glory on his head! 
 
 I For forth he goes, and visits all his host; 
 j Bids them good morrow, with a modest smile : 
 
 I And calls them—brothers, friends, and countrymen. 
 I Upon bis royal face there is no note, 
 
 How dread an army hath enrounded him ; 
 
 I Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour 
 1 Unto the weary and all-watched night: 
 
 , But freshly looks, and overbears attaint, 
 
 I With cheerful semblance, and sweet majesty ; 
 
 I That every wretch, pining and pale before, 
 
60 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks; 
 
 A largess universal, like the sun. 
 
 His liberal eje doth give to every one. 
 
 Thawing cold fear. Theu, mean and gentle all. 
 Behold, as may unworthiness define, | 
 
 A little touch of Harry in the night; 
 
 And our scene must to the battle fly; | 
 
 Where (O for pity !) we shall much disgrace—r- ! 
 
 With four or five most vile and ragged foils. 
 
 Right ill-disposed, in brawl ridiculous,— 
 
 The name of Agincourt; yet, sit and see; 
 
 Minding true things, by what their mockeries be. '■ 
 , [exit, j 
 
 SCENE I. THE ENGLISH CAMP AT AGINCOURT. 
 
 Enter King Henry, Bedford, and Gloster. ' 
 
 K. Hen, Gloster, ’tis true, that we are in great i 
 danger; ' 
 
 The greater therefore should our courage be.— j 
 
 Good morrow, brother Bedford.—God Almighty! 
 There is some soul of goodness in things evil, ; 
 
 Would men observingly distil it out; j 
 
 For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers, | 
 
 Which is both healthful and good husbandry : ^ 
 
 Besides, they are our outward consciences. 
 
 And preachers to us all ; admonishing, 
 
 That we should dress us fairly for our end. 
 
 Thus may we gather honey from the weed. 
 
 And make a moral of the devil himself. 
 
 Enter Erpingham. 
 
 Good morrow, old sir Thomas Erpingham : 
 
 A good soft pillow for that good white head 
 Were better than a churlish turf of France. i 
 
 Erp. Not so, my liege; this lodging likes me better. 
 Since 1 may say—now lie 1 like a king. [pains, ' 
 
 K. Hen. ’Tis good for men to love their present 1 
 
SCENE I. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 61 
 
 i Upon example ; so the spirit is eased : 
 
 (And, when the mind is quicken’d, out of doubt. 
 
 The organs, though defunct and dead before. 
 
 Break up their drowsj grave, and newly move 
 With casted slough and fresh legerity. 
 
 Lend me thy cloak, sir Thomas.—Brothers both, 
 
 1 Commend me to the princes in our camp ; 
 
 , Do my good morrow to them ; and, anon, 
 
 Desire them all to my pavilion. 
 
 Glo. We shall, my liege. [exeunt Glo, and Bed. 
 Erp. Shall I attend your grace? 
 
 K. Hen, No, my good knight; 
 
 Go with my brothers to my lords of England j 
 I and my bosom must debate awhile. 
 
 And then I would no other company. 
 
 Erp. The lord in heaven bless thee, noble Harry ! 
 
 [exit Erpingham. 
 
 K. Hen. God-a-mercy, old heart! thou speakest 
 j cheerfully. 
 
 Enter Pistol. 
 
 • Fist. Qui va la ? 
 
 K. Hen. A friend. 
 
 i Fist. Discuss unto me; art thou officer; 
 
 Or art thou base, common, and popular ? 
 
 I K. Hen. I am a gentleman of a company. 
 
 Fist. Trailest thou the puissant pike ? 
 
 K. Hen. Even so : what are you ? 
 
 Fist. As good a gentleman as the emperor. 
 
 K. Hen. Then you are better than the king. 
 
 I Fist. The king’s a bawcock, and a heart of gold, 
 
 A lad of life, an imp of fame ; 
 
 Of parents good, of fist most valiant: 
 
 I kiss his dirty shoe, and from my heart-strings 
 [ love the lovely bully. Wliat’s thy name ? 
 
 K. Hen. Harry le Roy. [crew ? 
 
 I Fist. Le Roy ! a Cornish name: art thou of Cornish 
 
KING HENRY-V. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 K. Hen. No, I am a Welchman. 
 
 Fist. Knowest thou Fluellen i 
 
 K. Hen. Yes. 
 
 Fist. Tell him, I’ll knock his leek about his pate. 
 Upon saint Davy’s day. 
 
 K. Hen. Do not you wear your dagger in your cap * 
 that day, lest he knock that about yours. 
 
 Fist. Art thou his friend ? ! 
 
 K. Hen. And his kinsman too. 
 
 Fist. TheJigo for thee then ! 
 
 K. Hen. 1 thank you : God be with you 1 
 
 Fist. My name is Pistol called. [exit. ■ 
 
 K. Hen. it sorts well with your fierceness. 
 
 Enter Fluellen and Gower, severally. * 
 
 Gow. Captain Fluellen! 
 
 Flu. So ! in the name of Cheshu Christ, speak 
 lower. It is the greatest admiration in the universal I 
 ’orld, when the true and auncient prerogatifes and laws t 
 of the wars is not kept; if you would take the pains t 
 but to examine the wars of Pompey the Great, you'i 
 shall find, I warrant you, that there is no tiddle-taddle,, 
 or pibble-pabble, in Pompey’s camp ; I warrant you,, 
 you shall find the ceremonies of the wars, and the cares ■ 
 of it, and the forms of it, and the sobriety of it, and 1 
 the modesty of it, to be otherwise. 
 
 Gow. Why, the enemy is loud j you heard him all l| 
 night. 
 
 Flu. If the enemy is an ass and a fool, and a prating : 
 coxcomb, is it meet, think you, that we should also,, 
 look you, be an ass, and a fool, and a prating coxcomb ; ] 
 in your own conscience now ? 
 
 Gow. 1 will speak lower. j 
 
 Flu. I pray you, and beseech you, that you will. . 
 
 [exeunt Gower and Fluellen. 
 
 K. Hen. Though it appear a little out of fashion, ' 
 There is much care and valour in this Welchman. 
 
ICENE I. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 63 
 
 Enter Bates^ Court, and Williams, 
 
 Court. Brother John Bates, is not that the morning 
 which breaks yonder? 
 
 Bates. I think it be : but we have no great cause to 
 desire the approach of day. 
 
 Will. We see yonder the beginning of the day, but, 
 [ think, we shall never see the end of it.—Who goes 
 K. Hen. A friend. [there ? 
 
 Will. Under what captain serve you ? 
 
 I '' K. Hen. Under sir Thomas Erpinghara. 
 
 Will. A good old commander, and a most kind gen- 
 leman : I pray you, what thinks he of our estate ? 
 
 K. Hen. Even as men wrecked upon a sand, that 
 ook to be washed off the next tide. 
 
 Bales. He hath not told his thought to the king ? 
 K. Hen. No; nor it is not meet he should. For, 
 hough I speak it to you, I think the king is but a man, 
 IS I am : the violet smells to him, as it doth to me ; the 
 dement shows to him, as it doth to me ; all his senses 
 uave but human conditions : bis ceremonies laid by, in 
 his nakedness be appears but a man; and though his 
 ilFections are higher mounted than ours, yet, when 
 ithey stoop, they stoop with the like wing ; therefore, 
 when he sees reason of fears, as we do, his fears, out of 
 doubt, be of the same relish as ours are: yet, in rea- 
 >ori, no man should possess him with any appearance 
 )f fear, lest he, by showing it, should dishearten his 
 irmy. 
 
 : Bates. He may show what outward courage he will: 
 )ut, I believe, as cold a night as ’tis, be could wish 
 liimself in the Thames up to the neck ! and so I would 
 le were, and 1 by him, at all adventures, so we were 
 luit here. 
 
 I K. Hen. By my troth, 1 will speak my conscience of 
 he king; I think, he would not wish himself any where 
 [lut where he is. 
 
64 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 ACT IV 
 
 Bates. Then ’would he were here alone; so shoulc 
 he be sure to be ransomed, and a many poor men’s lives 
 saved. 
 
 K, Hen. I dare say, you love him not so ill, to wisi 
 him here alone; howsoever, you speak this, to feel othei 
 men’s minds: methinks, I could not die anywhere sc 
 contented, as in the king’s company; his cause being j 
 just, and his quarrel honourable. 
 
 Will. That’s more than we know. 
 
 Bates. Ay, or more than we should seek after ; foti 
 we know enough, if we know we are the king’s sub¬ 
 jects ; if his cause be wrong, our obedience to the king 
 wipes the crime of it out of us. 
 
 Will. But, if the cause be not good, the king himseli, 
 hath a heavy reckoning to make ; when all those legs, ! 
 and arms, and heads, chopped oft'in a battle, shall join); 
 together at the latter day, and cry all—We died a‘ 1 
 such a place; some, swearing : some, crying for a sur-i'j 
 geon ; some, upon their wives left poor behind them : I 
 some, upon the debts they owe; some, upon their chiMj 
 dren rawly left. I am afeard there are few die well]ljj 
 that die in battle ; for how can they charitably dispose ! 
 of any thing, when blood is their argument? Now, if 
 these men do not die well, it will be a black matter for 
 the king that led them to it; whom to disobey, were 
 against all proportion of subjection. 
 
 K. Hen. So, if a son, that is by his father sent about 
 merchandise, do sinfully miscarry upon the sea, the 
 imputation of his wickedness, by your rule, should be 
 imposed upon his father that sent him': or if a servant, 
 under his master’s command, transporting a sum of 
 money, be assailed by robbers, and die in many irre- 
 conciled iniquities, you may call the business of the 
 master the author of the servant’s damnation:—but 
 this is not so : the king is not bound to answer the 
 particular endings of his soldiers, the father of his sod, 
 
SCENE I. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 65 
 
 □or the master of his servant; for they purpose not 
 their death, when they purpose their services. Besides, 
 there is no king, be his cause never so spotless, if it 
 come to the arbitrement of swords, can try it out with 
 all unspotted soldiers. Some, peradventure, have on 
 them the guilt of premeditated and contrived murder; 
 some, of beguiling virgins with the broken seals of 
 perjury; some, making the wars their bulwark, that 
 have before gored the gentle bosom of peace witli pil¬ 
 lage and robbery. Now, if these men have defeated 
 (the law, and outrun native punishment, though they 
 ■can outstrip men, they have no wings to fly from God: 
 war is his beadle, war is his vengeance ; so that here 
 ■men are punished, for before-breach of the king’s laws, 
 tin now the king’s quarrel: where they feared the death, 
 they have borne life away; and where they would be 
 safe, they perish: then if they die unprovided, no 
 more is the king guilty of their damnation, than he 
 was before guilty of those impieties for the which they 
 are now visited. Every subject’s duty is the king’s ; 
 but every subject’s soul is his own. Therefore should 
 3 very soldier in the wars do as every sick man in his 
 bed, wash every mote out of his conscience : and dying 
 > 0 , death is to him advantage; or not dying, the time 
 was blessedly lost, wherein such preparation was 
 gained : and, in him that escapes, it were not sin to 
 Lhink, that making God so free an ofier, he let him 
 t)utlive that day to see his greatness, and to teach 
 »thers how they should prepare. 
 
 Will. 'Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the ill is 
 ipon his own head, the king is not to answer for it 
 
 Bates. I do not desire he should answer for me ; 
 nd yet I determine to fight lustily for him. 
 
 K. Hen. 1 myself heard the king say, he would not 
 te ransomed. 
 
66 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Will. Ay, he said so, to make us fight cheerfully i 
 but, when our throats are cut, he may be rausomedj 
 and we ne’er the wiser. | 
 
 K. Hen. If I live to see it, I will never trust his| 
 word after. j 
 
 Will. ’Mass, you’ll pay him then ! That’s a periloussj 
 shot out of an elder gun, that a poor and private dis—! 
 pleasure can do against a monarch ! you may as wellll| 
 go about to turn the sun to ice, with fanning in his 
 face with a peacock’s feather. You’ll never trust his 
 word after ! come, ’tis a foolish saying. 
 
 K. Hen. Your reproof is somewhat too round: I 
 should be angry with you, if the time were convenient.1 
 Will. Let it be a quarrel between us, if you live. 
 
 K. Hen. I embrace it. 
 
 Will. How shall I know thee again ? 
 
 K. Hen. Give me any gage of thine, and I will wearir,] 
 it in my bonnet: then, if ever thou darest acknowledgt^ej | 
 it, I will make it my quarrel. 
 
 TYi//. Here’s my glove; give me another of thine, r 
 K. Hen. There. 
 
 Will. This will I also wear in ray cap; if ever thou ij 
 come to me and say, after to-morrow. This is my glove, I 
 by this hand, I will take thee a box on the ear. 
 
 K. Hen. If ever I live to see it, I will challenge it. 
 Will. Thou darest as well be hanged. 
 
 K. Hen. Well, I will do it, though I lake thee inij 
 the king’s company. 
 
 Will. Keep thy word : fare thee well.= 
 
 Bates. Be friends, you English fools, be friends j we 
 have French quarrels enough, if you could tell how to 
 reckon. 
 
 K. Hen. Indeed, the French may lay twenty Frenchii 
 crowns to one, they v/ill beat us ; for they bear them 
 on their shoulders: but it is no English treason, to cut 
 
SCENE I. KING HENRY V. 
 
 67 
 
 Frencb crowns ; and, to-morrow, the king himself will 
 be a Clipper [_eitunt Soldiers. 
 
 Upon the king! let us our lives, our souls. 
 
 Our debts, our careful wives, our children and 
 Our sins, lay on the king we must bear all 
 O hard condition ! twin-born with greatness. 
 Subjected to the breath of every fool. 
 
 Whose sense no more can feel but his’ own wrino^in?? 
 What infinite heart’s ease must kings neglect * 
 
 That private men enjoy ? ^ 
 
 And what have kings, that privates have not too. 
 
 Save ceremony, save general ceremony? 
 
 A.nd what art thou, thou idol ceremony ^ 
 
 What kind of god art thou, that suffer’s't more 
 Of mortal griefs, than do thy worshippers? 
 
 What are thy rents ? what are thy comings in ? 
 
 3 ceremony, show me but thy worth ! 
 
 What is the soul of adoration ? 
 
 krt thou aught else but place, degree, and form, 
 creating awe and fear in other men ? 
 
 Yherein thou art less happy, being fear’d, 
 
 Than they in fearing. 
 
 Vhat drink’st thou oft, instead of homage sweet, 
 
 »ut poison d flattery ? O, be sick, great greatness, 
 md bid thy ceremony give thee core! 
 hink’st thou, the fiery fever will go out 
 Vith titles blown from adulation ? 
 
 V^ill it give place to flexure and low bending? 
 anst thou, when thou command’st the beggar’s knee 
 ommand the health of it ? No, thou proud dream ‘ 
 bat play’st so subtly with a king’s repose j 
 am a king, that find thee ; and I know, 
 
 ’is not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball, 
 he sword, the mace, the crown imperial, 
 he inter-tissued robe of gold and pearl, 
 
 '*e farced title running ’fore the king, 
 
68 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp , 
 
 That beats upon the high shore of this world, 
 
 No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous ceremony. 
 
 Not all these, laid in bed majestical. 
 
 Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave j 
 Who, with a body fill’d, and vacant mind. 
 
 Gets him to rest, cramm’d with distressful bread ; 
 
 Never sees horrid night, the child of hell; 
 
 But, like a lackey, from the rise to set. 
 
 Sweats in the eye of Phoebus, and all night 
 Sleeps in Elysium; next day, after dawn. 
 
 Doth rise, and help Hyperion to his horse ; 
 
 And follows so the ever-running year. 
 
 With profitable labour, to jiis grave ; 
 
 And, but for ceremony, such a wretch. 
 
 Winding up days with toil, and nights with sleep. 
 
 Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king, 1 
 
 The slave, a member of the country’s peace, j 
 
 Enjoys it; bat in gross brain little wots, j 
 
 What watch the king keeps to maintain the peace, J 
 Whose hours the peasant best advantages. a 
 
 Enter Erpingham. | 
 
 Erp. My lord, your nobles, jealous of your absence,*! ' 
 Seek through your camp to find you. ' 
 
 K. Hen. Good old knight, W 
 
 Collect them all together at my tent: jj ( 
 
 I’ll be before thee. i ^ 
 
 Erp. I shall do’t, ray lord. [exit.ft 
 
 K. Hen. O God of battles! steel my soldiers’ heartsll lm 
 Possess them not with fear ; take from them now i i 
 The sense of reckoning, if the opposed numbers 
 Pluck their hearts from them!—Not to-day, O Lord,':S»' 
 O not to-day, think not upon the fault J 
 
 My father made in compassing the crown I , 1 
 
 1 Richard’s body have interred new ; I 
 
 And on it have bestow’d more contrite tears, ! Ci 
 
SCENE II. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 C9 
 
 Than from it issued forced drops of blood. 
 jFive hundred poor 1 have in year! 3 ' pay, 
 
 Who twice a day their wither'd hands hold up 
 Towards heaven, to pardon blood ; and I have built 
 Two chantries, where the sad and solemn priests 
 Sing still for Richard’s soul. More will I do : 
 Though all that I can do, is nothing worth; 
 
 Since that my penitence comes after all. 
 
 Imploring pardon. 
 
 Enter Gloster. 
 
 Glo, My liege ! 
 
 K. Hen. My brother Gloster’s voice ?—Ay; 
 
 I know thj' errand, I will go with thee;— 
 
 rhe day, my friends, and all things, stay for me. [ex. 
 
 SCENE II. THE FRENCH CAMP. 
 
 Enter Dauphin, Orleans, Ramhures, and others. 
 Orl. The sun doth gild our armour ; up, my lords. 
 Orl. Montez a cheval: —My horse ! valet! lacquay ! 
 Orl. O, brave spirit! [ha ! 
 
 Dau. Via !—les eaux et la terre - 
 
 Orl. Rien puis ? Vair et lefeu - 
 
 Dau. del ! cousin Orleans.-— 
 
 Enter Constable. 
 
 Now, my lord constable! 
 
 Con. Hark, how our steeds for present service neigh. 
 Dau. Mount them, and make incision in their hides; 
 That their hot blood may spin in English eyes, 
 
 Vnd dout them with superfluous courage: ha ! 
 
 Ram. What, will you have them weep our horses’ 
 blood ? 
 
 kow shall we then behold their natural tears ? 
 
 Enter a Messenger. ' 
 
 Mess. The English are embattled, you French 
 peers. [horse! 
 
 Con. To horse, you gallant princes! straight to 
 
70 
 
 KING HENRY V. act iv 
 
 Do but behold yon poor and starved band, ! 
 
 And your fair show shall suck away their souls, 
 Leaving them but the shales and husks of men. 
 
 There is not work enough for all our hands; 
 
 Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins. 
 
 To give each naked curtle-axe a stain. 
 
 That our French gallants shall to-day draw out, ; 
 And sheath for lack of sport: let us but blow on them. 
 The vapour of our valour will o’erturn them. 
 
 ’Tis positive ’gainst all exceptions, lords. 
 
 That our superfluous lackeys, and our peasants,— 
 Who, in unnecessary action, swarm 
 About our squares of battle,—were enough 
 To purge this field of such a hilding foe ; 
 
 Though we, upon this mountain’s basis by, 
 
 Took stand for idle speculation : 
 
 But that our honours must not. What’s to say ? 
 
 A very little little let us do. 
 
 And all is done. Then let the trumpets sound 
 The tucket-sonnanoe, and the note to mount: 
 
 For our approach shall so much dare the field. 
 
 That England shall couch down in fear, and yield. 
 Enter Graridpre. 
 
 Grand. Why do you stay so long, my lords o 
 France ? 
 
 Yon island carrions, desperate of their bones, 
 111-favour’dly become their morning field : 
 
 Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose. 
 
 And our air shakes them passing scornfully. 
 
 Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar’d host. 
 
 And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps. 
 
 Their horsemen set like fixed candlesticks. 
 
 With torch-staves in their hand : and their poor jades 
 Lob down their heads, dropping the hides and hips ; 
 The gum down-roping from their pale-dead eyes; 
 And in their pale-dull mouths the gimmal bit 
 
! SCENE III, 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 71 
 
 I Lies foul with chew’d grass, still and motionless ; 
 
 ' And their executors, the knavish crows, 
 
 1 Fly o’er them all, impatient for their hour, 
 ij Description cannot suit itself in words, 
 j To demonstrate the life of such a battle 
 i In life so lifeless as it show's itself. [death. 
 
 Con. They have said their prayers, and they slay for 
 Dau. Shall we go send them dinners, and fresh suits, 
 And give their fasting horses provender. 
 
 And after fight with them? 
 
 Con. 1 stay but for my guard ; on, to the field: 
 
 I I will the banner from a trumpet take. 
 
 And use it for my haste. Come, come away! 
 
 [exeunt. 
 
 The sun is high, and we outwear the day. 
 
 SCENE III. THE ENGLISH CAMP. 
 
 Enter the English Host; Gloster, Bedford, Exeter, 
 Salisbury, arid Westmoreland. 
 
 Glo. Where is the king? 
 
 Bed. The king himself is rode to view their battle. 
 I, West. Of fighting men they have fall threescore 
 I thousand. 
 
 ' Exe. There’s five to one ; besides, they all are fresh. 
 ! Sal. God’s arm strike with us ! ’tis a fearful odds. 
 
 ! God be wi’ you, princes all! I’ll to ray charge ; 
 
 I If we no more meet, till we meet in heaven, 
 
 Then, joyfully,—my noble lord of Bedford,-— 
 
 My dear lord Gloster,—and my good lord Exeter,— 
 And my kind kinsman,—warriors all, adieu!— 
 
 Bed. Farewell, good Salisbury ; and good luck go 
 with thee! 
 
 Exe. Farewell, kind lord ; fight valiantly to-day ; 
 And yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it. 
 
 For thou art fram’d of the firm truth of valour, [ex. Sal. 
 
 Bed. He is as full of valour, as of kindness: 
 Princely in both. 
 
72 
 
 KING henry V. 
 
 ACT I i 
 
 West. O that we now bad here | 
 
 Enter King Henry. 
 
 But one ten thousand of those men in England, 
 
 That do no work to-day ! 
 
 K, Hen, What’s he, that wishes so ? 
 
 My cousin Westmoreland ?—No, my fair cousin ; 
 
 If we are mark’d to die, we are enough 
 To do our country loss ; and if to live. 
 
 The fewer men, the greater share of honour. 
 
 God’s will! I pray tliee, wish not one man more. 
 
 By Jove, 1 am not covetous for gold; 
 
 Nor care I, who doth feed upon my cost; 
 
 It yearns me not, if men my garments wear ; 
 
 Such outward things dwell not in my ^desires: 
 
 But, if it be a sin to covet honour, 
 
 I am the most offending soul alive. 
 
 No, ’faith, my coz, wish not a man from England : 
 God’s.peace! I would not lose so great an honour. 
 
 As one man more, methiiiks, would share from me. 
 
 For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more : 
 Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host. 
 That he, which hath no stomach to this fight, 
 
 Let him depart; his passport shall be made. 
 
 And crowns for convoy put into his purse : 
 
 We would not die in that man’s company, 
 
 That fears his fellowship to die with us. ' 
 
 This day is call’d—the feast of Crispian : 
 
 He, that outlives this day, and comes safe home, 
 
 Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d. 
 
 And rouse him at the name of Crispian. 
 
 He, that shall live this day, and see old age. 
 
 Will yearly on the vigil feast his friends. 
 
 And say—to-morrow is saint Crispian : 
 
 Then will he strip his sleeve, and show his scars. 
 
 And say, these wounds I had on Crispin’s day. 
 
 Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot, 
 
SCENE III. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 73 
 
 1 But he’ll remember, with advantages, 
 
 What feats he did that day: then shall oar names. 
 Familiar in their mouths as household words,— 
 
 I Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter, 
 
 Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloster,— 
 
 Be in their flowing cups freshly remember’d : 
 
 This story shall the good man teach his son ; 
 
 And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by, 
 j From this day to the ending of the world, 
 
 But we in it shall be remembered : 
 
 We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; 
 
 For he, to-day that sheds his blood with me, 
 
 Shall be my brother ; be he ne’er so vile. 
 
 This day shall gentle his condition : 
 
 And gentlemen in England, now abed. 
 
 Shall think themselves accurs’d, they were not here; 
 And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks. 
 That fought with ns upon saint Crispin’s day. 
 
 I Enter Salisbury. 
 
 Sal. My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with speed: 
 The French are bravely in their battles set. 
 
 And will with all expedience charge on us. 
 
 I K. Hen. All things are ready, if our minds be so. 
 
 ! West. Perish the man, whose mind is backward now! 
 K. Hen. Thou dost not wish more help from Eng¬ 
 land, cousin? 
 
 West. God’s will, my liege, ’wo;ild you and I alone, 
 [Without more help, might fight this battle out! [men; 
 
 K. Hen. Why, now thou hast unwish’d five thousand 
 Which likes me better, than to wish us one. 
 ifou know your places : God be with you all! 
 
 Tucket. Enter Montjoy. 
 
 Mont. Once more I come to know of thee, king 
 f for thy ransom thou wilt now compound, [Harry, 
 before thy most assured overthrow; 
 
 'or, certainly, thou art so near the gulf. 
 
74 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 ACT I 
 
 Tbou needs must be englulted.—Besides, in mercy, ■ 
 The constable desires thee—thou wilt mind 
 Thy followers of repentance; that their souls 
 May make a peaceful and a sweet retire [bodiei 
 
 From off these fields, where (wretches) their poO; 
 Must lie and fester. I 
 
 K. Hen. Who hath sent thee now ? ! 
 
 Mont. The constable of France. i 
 
 K. Hen. I pray thee, bear my former answer back;; 
 Bid them achieve me, and then sell my bo«es. 
 
 Good God ! why should they mock poor fellows thus 
 
 The man, that once did sell the lion’s skin 
 
 While the beast liv’d, was kill’d with hunting him. 
 
 A many of our bodies shall, no doubt, 
 
 Find native graves ; upon the which, I trust, 
 
 Shall witness live in brass of this day’s work ; ! 
 
 And those that leave their valiant bones in France, j 
 Djing like men, though buried in your dunghills, | 
 They shall be fam’d ; for there the sun shall greet theiiij 
 And draw their honours reeking up to heaven ; j 
 
 Leaving their earthly parts to choke your clime, j 
 The smell whereof shall breed a plague in France. j 
 Mark then a bounding valour in our English ; 
 
 That, being dead, like to the bullet’s grazing, 
 
 Break out into a second course of mischief. 
 
 Killing in relapse of inorlality. 
 
 Let me speak proudly ;—tell the constable. 
 
 We are but warriors for the working-day: 
 
 Our gayness, and our gilt, are all besmirch’d 
 With rainy marching in the painful field; 
 
 There’s not a piece of feather in our host 
 (Good argument, I hope, we shall not fly,) 
 
 And time hath worn us into slovenry : 
 
 But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim: 
 
 And my poor soldiers tell me—yet ere night 
 They’ll be in fresher robes ; or they will pluck 
 
SCENE IV. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 75 
 
 I The gay new coats o’er the French soldiers’ heads, 
 
 And turn them out of service. If they do this ^ 
 
 (As, if God please, they shall,) ray ransom then 
 Will soon be levied. Herald, save thou thy labour; 
 Come thou no more for ransom, gentle herald; 
 
 ' They shall have none, I swear, but these my joints : 
 Which if they have as 1 will leave ’em to them, 
 j Shall yield them little, tell the constable. 
 
 Mont. I shall, king Harry. And so fare thee well : 
 Thou never shalt hear herald any more. [exit. 
 
 K. Hen. I fear, thou’lt once more come again for 
 ransom. 
 
 Enter the Duke of York. 
 
 York. My lord, most humbly on my knee 1 beg 
 The leading of the vaward. [away:— 
 
 K. Hen. Take it, brave York.—Now, soldiers, march 
 And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day! [exeunt, 
 
 SCENE IV. THE FIELD OF BATTLE. 
 
 ' Alarums: Excursions. Enter French Soldier, Pistol, 
 
 , and Boy. 
 
 [ Fist. Yield, cur. , [bonne qualite. 
 
 I Fr. Sol. Je pense, que vous estes le gentilhomme de 
 I Fist. Quality, call you me ? — Construe me, art thou 
 a gentleman ? What is thy name ? discuss. 
 
 ’ Fr. Sol. 0 seigneur Dieu I 
 
 I Fist. O, signieur Dew should be a gentleman :— 
 Perpend my words, O signieur Dew, and mark ;— 
 
 I O signieur Dew, thou diest on point of fox, 
 
 1 Except, O signieur, thou do give to me 
 j Egregious ransom. 
 
 ; Fr. Sol. 0, prennez misericorde! ayez pitie de moy! 
 
 I Fist. Moy shall not serve, I will have forty raoys; 
 I For I will fetch thy rim out at thy throat, 
 j In drops of crimson blood. [bras ? 
 
 I Fr. Sol. Est il impossible d’eschapper la force de ton 
 
76 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 ACT l\ 
 
 Pist. Brass, cur! 
 
 Thou damned and luxurious mountain goat, 
 
 OfFer’st me brass ? 
 
 Fr. Sol. 0 pardonnez moy ! 
 
 Pist. Say’st thou me so ? is that a ton of moys?— 
 Come hither, boy ; ask me this slave in French, 
 
 What is his name. 
 
 Boy. Escoutez; comment estes vous appell^? 
 
 Fr. Sol. Monsieur le Fer. 
 
 Boy. He says, his name is—master Fer. 
 
 Pist. Master Fer! Fli fer him, and firk him, ant 
 ferret him discuss the same in French unto him. 
 
 Boy. I do not know the French for fer, and ferret 
 and firk. 
 
 Pist. Bid him prepare, for Twill cut his throat. 
 
 Fr. Sol. Que dit-il, monsieur ? 
 
 Boy. 11 me commande de vous dire que vous faite< 
 vous prest; car ce soldat icy est dispose tout d cettti 
 heure de couper vostre gorge. 
 
 Pist. Ouy, couper gorge, par ma foy, peasant, 
 
 Unless thou give me crowns, brave crowns ; 
 
 Or mangled shalt thou be by this my sword. 
 
 Fr. Sol. 0, je vous supplie pour I’amour de Dieu, me 
 pardonner! Je suis gentilhomme de bonne maison : 
 gardez ma vie, etje vous donneray deux cents escus. 
 
 Pist. What are his words? 
 
 Boy. He prays yon to save his life ; he is a gentle¬ 
 man of a good house; and, for his ransom, he will give 
 you two hundred crowns. 
 
 Pist. Tell him,—my fury shall abate, and I 
 The crowns will take. 
 
 Fr. Sol. Petit monsieur, que dit-il ? 
 
 Boy. Encore quHl est contre son jurement, de par¬ 
 donner aucun prisonnier; neantmoins, pour les escus 
 qtie vous I’avez promis, il est content de vous donner la 
 liberte, lefranchisement. 
 
SCENE V. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 77 
 
 Fr. Sol. Sur mes genoux,je vous donne mille remer- 
 ciemetis: etjem’estime heureux queje suis tombe entre 
 j les mains d’un chevalier, je pense, le plus brave, valiant, 
 et tres distingue seigneur d’Angleterre. 
 
 I Fist. Expound unto me, boy. 
 
 Boy. He gives you, upon his knees, a thousand 
 jthanks: and he esteems himself happy that he hath 
 fallen into the hands of (as he thinks) the most brave, 
 valorous, thrice-worthy signieur of England. 
 
 Fist. As I sock blood, 1 will some mercy show.— 
 Follow me, cur. [exit Fistol. 
 
 Boy. Suivez vous le grand capitaine. [exit Fr. Soldier, 
 I did never know so full a voice issue from so empty a 
 heart: but the saying is true,—The empty vessel makes 
 the greatest sound. Bardolpb, and Nym, bad ten times 
 more valour than this roaring devil i’the old play, that 
 ♦every one may pare his nails with a wooden dagger; 
 land they are both hanged; and so would this be, if he 
 *durst steal any thing adventurously. I must stay with 
 the lackeys, with the luggage of our camp : the French 
 
 ! might have a good prey of us, if he knew of it; for 
 there is none to guard it, but boys. [exit. 
 
 I SCENE V. ANOTHER PART OF THE FIELD OF BATTLE. 
 
 [Alarums. Enter Dauphin, Orleans, Bourbon, Constable, 
 Rambures, and others. 
 
 Co7i. 0 diable ! 
 
 Orl. 0 seigneur !—lejour est perdu, tout est perdu ! 
 Dau. Mort de ma vie ! all is confounded, all! 
 Reproach and everlasting shame 
 Sits mocking in our plumes.— 0 meschante fortune ! — 
 Do not run away. [A short alarum. 
 
 ^ Con. Why, all our ranks are broke. 
 
 Dau. O perdurable shame 1—let’s stab ourselves. 
 Re these the wretches that we play’d at dice for ? 
 i Orl. Is this the king we sent to for bis ransom ? 
 
78 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Bour. Shame, aud eternal shame, nothing but shame 
 Let us die instant: once more back again; 
 
 And he that will not follow Bourbon now. 
 
 Let him go hence, and, with his cap in hand, 
 
 Like a base pander, hold the chamber-door, 
 
 Whilst by a slave, no gentler than my dog, 
 
 His fairest daughter is contaminate. 
 
 Con. Disorder, that hath spoil’d us, friend os now i 
 Let us, in heaps, go offer up our lives 
 Unto these English, or else die with fame. 
 
 Orl. We are enough, yet living in the field. 
 
 To smother up the English in our throngs. 
 
 If any order might be thought upon. 
 
 Bour. 'Fhe devil take order now ! I’ll to the throng! 
 Let life be short; else, shame will be too long, \exeuritl 
 
 SCENE VI. ANOTHER PART OF THE FIELD. 
 
 Alarums. Enter King Henry and Forces-, Exeter,' 
 and others. 
 
 K. Hen. Well have we done, thrice-valiant country- 
 But all’s not done, yet keep the French the field, [men; 
 Exe. The duke of York commends him to your ma¬ 
 jesty. [hour, 
 
 K. Hen. Lives he, good uncle ? thrice, within this 
 I saw him down ; thrice up again, and fighting ; 
 
 From helmet to the spur, all blood he was. 
 
 Exe. In which array (brave soldier) doth he lie, 
 Larding the plain : and by his bloody side 
 (Yoke-fellow to his honour-owing wounds,) 
 
 The noble earl of Suffolk also lies. 
 
 Sufiblk first died ; aud York, all haggled over, ' 
 Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteep’d, ^ 
 
 And takes him by the beard; kisses the gashes. 
 
 That bloodily did yawn upon his face ; 
 
 And cries aloud,— Tarry, dear cousin Suffolk! ^ 
 
 My soul shall thine keep company to heaven ; 
 
GENE Vlt. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 79 
 
 'arry, sweet soul, for mine, thenfiy abreast ; 
 
 Is, in this glorious and well foughten field, 
 
 Ve kept together in our chivalry / 
 fpon these words I came, and cheer’d him up : 
 le smil’d me in the face, raught me his hand, 
 nd, with a feeble gripe, says,— Dear my lord, 
 fmmend my service to my sovereign. 
 
 ) did he turn, and over Suffolk’s neck 
 e thi'ew his wounded arm, and kiss’d his lips ; 
 hd so, espous’d to death, with blood he seal’d 
 testament of noble-ending love. 
 
 ^e pretty and sweet manner of it forc’d 
 
 lose waters from me, which 1 would have stopp’d ; 
 
 lit 1 had not so much of man in me, 
 
 |it all my mother came into mine eyes, 
 ijid gave me up to tears. 
 
 *K. Hen. I blame you not; 
 
 |r, hearing this, I must perforce compound 
 |ith mistful eyes, or they will issue too.— [^alarum. 
 ft, hark! what new alarum is this same ?— 
 e French have reinforc’d their scatter’d men:— 
 pn every soldier kill his prisoners ; 
 ve the word through. [exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VII. ANOTHER PART OF THE FIELD. 
 
 I Alarums. Enter Fluellen and Gower. 
 
 F/ti. Kill the poys and the luggage! ’tis expressly 
 instthe law of arms; ’tis as arrant a piece of kna" 
 y, mark you now, as can be offered,, in the ’orld * 
 rour conscience now, is it not ? 
 iow. ’Tis certain, there’s not a boy left alive; and 
 icowardly rascals, that ran from the battle, have 
 e this slaughter : besides, they have burned and 
 ied away all that was in the king’s tent; wherefore 
 iing, most worthily, hath caused every soldier to 
 Jiis prisoner’s throat. O, ’tis a gallant king! 
 
80 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Flu. Ay, he was porn at Monmouth, captain Gower: 
 What call you the town’s name where Alexander the 
 pig was porn ? 
 
 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 mag¬ 
 nanimous, are all one reckonings, save the phrase is a ^ 
 little variations. 
 
 Gow. I think, Alexander the Great was born in 
 Macedon ; his father was called—Philip of Macedon, 
 as I take it. 
 
 Flu. I think, it is in Macedon, where Alexander is 
 porn. I tell you, captain,—If you look in the maps 
 of the *orld, I warrant, yon shall find, in the compari¬ 
 sons between Macedon and Monmouth, that the situa¬ 
 tions, look you, is both alike. There is a river in 
 Macedon ; and there is also moreover a river at Mon¬ 
 mouth ; it is called Wye, at Monmouth: but it is out 
 of my prains, what is the name of the other river ; 
 but ’tis all one, ’tis so like as my fingers is to my 
 fingers, and there is salmons in both. If you mark 
 Alexander’s life well, Harry of Monmouth’s life is 
 come after it indifferent well; for there is figures in 
 all things. Alexander (God knows, and you know), 
 in his rages, and his furies, and his wraths, and his 
 cholers, and his moods, and his displeasures, and his 
 indignations, and also being a little intoxicates in his 
 prains, did, in his ales and his angers, look you, kill i 
 his pest friend, Clytus. 1 
 
 Gow. Our king is not like him in that: he never ' 
 killed any of his friends. 
 
 Flu. It is not well done, mark you now, to take I 
 tales out of my mouth, ere it is made an end and i 
 finished. I speak but in the figures and comparisons i 
 of it; as Alexander is kill his friend Clytus, being in i 
 his ales and in his cups; so also Harry Monmouth I 
 
SCENE VII. 
 
 king henry V. 
 
 81 
 
 I being in his right wits and his goot judgments,is turn 
 I away the fat knight with the great pelly-doublet: he 
 j was full of jests, and gipes, and knaveries, and mocks j 
 j I am forgot his name. 
 
 Gow. Sir John Falstaff. 
 
 I Flu. That is he : I can tell you, there is goot men 
 porn at Monmouth. 
 
 Gaw. Here comes his majesty. 
 
 Alarum. Enter King Henry, with a part of the En- 
 5 glish Forces; Warwick, Gloster, Exeter, and others. 
 il K. Hen. 1 was not angry, since I oaine to France, 
 
 I Until this instant.—Take a trumpet, herald ; 
 i Ride thou unto the horsemen on yon hill; 
 
 If they’ll light with us, bid them come down, 
 i Or void the field ; they do offend our sight: 
 
 If they’ll do neither, we will come to them ; 
 i And make them skirr away, as swift as stones 
 ' Enforced from the old Assyrian slings : 
 
 ' Besides, we’ll cut the throats of those we have ; 
 
 ; And not a man of them, that we shall take, 
 i Shall taste our mercy :—Go, and tell them so. 
 i' Enter Montjoy. 
 
 j Exe. Here comes the herald of the French, my liege, 
 li Glo. His eyes are humbler than they us’d to be. 
 
 ' K. Hen. How now, what means this, herald ? know’st 
 : thou not, 
 
 I; That I have’fin’d these bones of mine for ransom ? 
 
 Com’st thou again for ransom ? 
 
 ' Mont .No, great king : 
 
 I come to thee for charitable licence. 
 
 That Ave may wander o’er this bloody field, 
 j: To book our dead, and then to bury them; > 
 
 I To sort our nobles from our common men ; 
 
 1 For many of our princes (woe the while!) 
 
 I Lie drown’d and soak’d in mercenary blood 
 
 G 
 
 i; 
 
82 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 ACT IV\ 
 
 (So do our vulgar drencb their peasant limbs i 
 
 In blood of princes); and their wounded steeds | 
 
 Fret fetlock deep in gore, and, with wild rage, i 
 
 Yerk out their armed heels at their dead masters, 
 Killing them twice. O, give us leave, great king, j 
 To view the field in safety, and dispose ' j 
 
 Of their dead bodies. . L 
 
 K. Hen. i tell thee truly, herald, j" 
 
 I know not, if the day be ours, or no ; | 
 
 For yet a many of your horsemen peer, ' 
 
 And gallop o’er the field. ' ij 
 
 Mont. The day is yours. [it!-— 
 
 K. Hen. Praised be God, and not our strength fon 
 Vv'hat is this cattle call’d, that stands hard by i 
 
 Mont. They call it—Agincoiirt. j 
 
 K. Hen. Then call we this—the field of Agincourt,i 
 Fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus. 
 
 Flu. Your grandfather of famous memory, an’l’ 
 please your majesty, and your great-uncle Edwardi 
 the plack prince of Wales, as 1 have read in the chro*) 
 nicies, fought a most prave pattle herein France. 
 
 K. Hen. They did, Fluellen. - j 
 
 Flu. Your majesty says very true ; If your majes-^: 
 ties is remembered of it, the Welchmen did goot ser-r 
 vice in a garden where leeks did grow, wearingleeks 
 in their Monmouth caps; which, your majesty know«f 
 to this hour is an honourable padge of the service;] 
 and, I do believe, your majesty takes no scorn to wean- 
 the leek upon saint Tavy’s day. i 
 
 K. Hen. I wear it for a memorable honour: ( 
 
 For I am Welch, you know, good countryman. 
 
 Flu. All the water in Wye cannot wash your ma-j| 
 jesty’s Welch plood out of your pody, I can tell you 
 that: Got pless it, and preserve it, as long as it pleases j 
 his grace, and Ms majesty too! ; i 
 
 K. Hen. Thanks, good my countryman. 
 
CENE VII. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 83 
 
 Flu. By Cheshu, I am your majesty’s countryman, I 
 ;are not who know it; f will confess it to all the 
 orld; I need not to be ashamed of your majesty, 
 iraised be Got, so long as your majesty is an honest 
 man. 
 
 K. Hen, God keep me so !—our heralds go with 
 Bring me just notice of the numbers dead [him ; 
 3n both our parts.—C<all yonder fellow hither. 
 
 [points to Williams. Exeunt Mont, and others. 
 Eje. Soldier, yon must come to the king. 
 
 K. Hen. Soldier, why wear’st thou that glove in thy 
 ap ? 
 
 Will. An’t please your majesty, a rascal, that swag- 
 ;ered with me last night: who, if’a live, and ever 
 |iare to eballenge this glove, I have sworn to take him 
 I box o the ear: or, if 1 can see my glove in his cap 
 which he swore as he was a soldier, he would wear, 
 f alive), I will strike it out soundly, 
 j K. Hen. What think you, captain Flnellen.^* is it fit 
 ^is soldier keep his oath ? 
 
 Flu. He is a craven and a villain else, an’t please 
 our majesty, in my conscience. 
 
 K. Hen, It may be, his enemy is a gentleman of 
 reat sort, quite from the answer of his degree. 
 
 ' Flu. Though he be as goota gentleman as the tevil 
 s, as Lucifer and Belzebub himself, it is necessary, 
 mk your grace, that he keep his vow and his oath : if 
 B be perjured, see you now, his reputation is as arrant 
 'villain, and a Jack-sauce, as ever his plack shoe trod 
 ^on Got’s ground and his earth, in my conscience, la. 
 \K. Hen. Then keep thy vow, sirrah, when thou 
 eel’st the fellow. 
 
 Will. So I will, my liege, as I live. 
 
 K. Hen, Who servest thou under ? 
 
 Will. Under captain Gower, my liege. 
 
84 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 Flu. Gower is a goot captain; and is goot knoW' 
 ledge and literature in ihe wars. 
 
 K, Hen. Call him hither to me, soldier. 
 
 hFi/L I will, my liege. [exit. 
 
 K. Hen. Here, Fluellen; wear thou this favour fo 
 me, and stick it in thy cap : when Alen^on and mysel 
 were down together, I plucked this glove from hi 
 helm : if any man challenge this, he is a friend t 
 Alen^ou and an enemy to our person; if thou encounte 
 any such, apprehend him, as thou dost love me. 
 
 Flu. Your grace does me as great honours, as ca 
 be desired in the hearts of his subjects : I would fai 
 see the man, that has but two legs, that shall find him 
 self aggriefed at this glove, that is all; but I woul 
 fain see it once ; an please Got of his grace, that 
 might see it. 
 
 K. Hen. Knowest thou Gower ? 
 
 Flu. He is my dear friend, an please you. 
 
 K. Hen. Pray thee, go seek him, and bring him 1 
 my tent. 
 
 Flu. I will fetch him. 
 
 K. Hen. My lord of Warwick,—and my brotht 
 Follow'Fluellen closely at the heels : [Glosle 
 
 The glove, which 1 have given him for a favour. 
 May, haply, purchase him a box o’the ear ; 
 
 It is the soldier’s ; 1, by bargain, should 
 Wear it myself. Follow, good cousin Warwick: 
 
 If that the soldier strike him (as, I judge 
 By his blunt bearing, he will keep his word). 
 
 Some sudden mischief may arise of it; 
 
 For i do know Fluellen valiant. 
 
 And, touch’d with choler, hot as gunpowder. 
 
 And quickly will return an injury : 
 
 Follow, and see there be no harm between them.— 
 Go you with me, uncle of Exeter. [exeu 
 
SCENE VUI. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 85 
 
 I SCENE VIII. BEFORE KING HENRY's PAVILION, 
 
 Enter Gower and Williams. 
 
 \ Will. I warrant, it is to knight yon, captain. 
 
 J Enter Fluellen. 
 
 j Flu. Got’s will and his pleasure, captain, I peseech 
 iiyou now, come apace to the king: there is more goot 
 litoward you, peradventure, than is in your knowledge 
 i| to dream of. 
 
 Will. Sir, know yon this glove ? 
 
 I Flu. Know the glove ? I know, the glove is a glove, 
 j Will. I know this ; and thus I challenge it. 
 
 !| ^strikes him. 
 
 I Flu. ’Sblud, an arrant traitor, as any’s in the uni¬ 
 versal ’orld, or in France, or in England. 
 
 Gow. How now, sir ? you villain ! 
 
 Will. Do you think I’ll be forsworn ! 
 
 I F/u.Stand away, captain Gower ; I will give treason, 
 his payment into plows, I warrant you. 
 
 Will. 1 am no traitor. 
 
 Flu. That’s a lie in thy throat.—I charge you in his 
 j majesty’s name, apprehend him ; he’s a friend of the 
 i duke Alenpon’s. 
 
 Enter Warwick and Gloster. 
 
 War. How now, how now! what’s the matter.^ 
 
 Flu. My lord of Warwick, here is (praised be Got 
 for it!) amost contigeous treason come to light,look 
 ; you, as you shall desire in a summer’s day. Here is 
 his majesty. 
 
 Enter King Henry and Exeter. 
 
 K. Hen. How now 1 what’s the matter 
 
 Flu. My liege, here is a villain and a traitor, that, 
 
 ' look your grace, has struck the glove which your 
 majesty is take out of the helmet of Alenpon. 
 
 Will. My liege, this was my glove; here is the fellow 
 of it: and he, that I gave it to in change, promised to 
 
8G 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 ACT 
 
 S 
 
 wear it in bis cap ; I promised to strike him if he did I 
 1 met this man with my glove in his cap, and I hav ' 
 been as good as ray word. 
 
 Flu. Your majesty hear now (saving your majesty’ 
 manhood), what an arrant, rascally, beggarlj’, lous' * 
 knave it is : I hope, your majesty is pear me testimony * 
 and witness, and avouchments, that this is the glove o 
 Alen 5 ;on, that your majesty is give me, in your con' 
 science now. 
 
 K. Hen. Give me thy glove, soldier; Look, here i: 
 the fellow of it. ’Twas I, indeed, thou proraised’st 
 to strike ; and thou hast given me most bitter terms. 
 
 Flu. An please your majesty, let his neck answer for 
 it, if there is any martial law in the ’orld. 
 
 K. Hen. How canst thou make me satisfaction? 
 
 Will. All offences, my liege, come from the heart : 
 never came any from mine, that might offend your 
 majesty. 
 
 K. Hen.li was ourself thou didst abuse. 
 
 Will. Your majesty came not like yourself; you 
 appeared to me but as a common man; witness the; 
 night, your garments, your lowliness ; and what youri 
 highness suffered under that shape, I beseech you, 
 take it for your own faults, and not mine: for had you i 
 been as 1 took you for, 1 made no offence ) therefore,, 
 
 I beseech your highness, pardon me. 
 
 K. Hen. Here, uncle Exeter, fill this glove with 
 crowns, | 
 
 And give it to this fellow.—Keep it, fellow ; I 
 
 And wear it for an honour in thy cap, | 
 
 Till I do challenge it.— Give him the crowns | 
 
 And, captain, you must needs be friends with him. | 
 
 Flu. By this day and this light, the fellow has mettle 1 
 enough in his pelly.—Hold, there is twelvepence for | 
 you, and I pray you to serve Got, and keep you out of I 
 
KING HENRY V. 
 
 I SCENE Vlir. 
 
 87 
 
 i prawls, and prabbles, and quarrels, ,and dissensions, 
 j and, I warrant jou, it is the petter for you. 
 
 ! Will. I will none of your money, 
 j Flu. It is with goot will ; I can tell you, it will 
 I serve you to mend your shoes: come, wherefore 
 I should you be so pashful ? your shoes is not so goot : 
 
 I ’tis a goot silling, I warrant you, or I will change it. 
 Enter an English Herald. 
 
 K. Hen. Now, herald ; are the dead number’d ? 
 
 I Her. Here is the number of the slaughter’d French. 
 
 [delivers a paper. 
 
 K. Hen. What prisoners of good sort are taken, 
 uncle ? 
 
 Ere. Charles duke of Orleans,nephew to the king ; 
 John duke of Bourbon, and lord Bouciqualt: 
 
 Of other lords, and barons, knights, and’squires, 
 
 Full fifteen hundred, besides common men. 
 
 K. Hen. This note doth tell me of ten thousand 
 French, 
 
 That in the field lie slain: of princes, in this number. 
 And nobles bearing banners, there lie dead 
 One hundred twenty-six: added to these. 
 
 Of knights, esquires, and gallant gentlemen. 
 
 Eight thousand and four hundred ; of the which. 
 
 Five hundred were but yesterday dubb’d knights ; 
 
 So that, in these ten thousand they have lost, 
 
 There are but sixteen hundred mercenaries; 
 
 The rest are—princes, barons, lords, knights, ’squires. 
 And gentlemen of blood and quality. 
 
 The names of those their nobles that lie dead,— 
 Charles De-la-bret, high constable of France ; 
 laquesof Chatlllon, admiral of France; 
 
 The master of the cross-bows, lord Rambures; 
 preat-raaster of France, the brave sir Guischard 
 I Dauphin; 
 
 lohn duke of Alencon ; Antony duke of Brabant, 
 
88 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 The brother to the duke of Burgund}'; 
 
 And Edward duke of Bar : of lusty earls, 
 
 Grandpre and Roussi, Fauconberg and Foix, 
 
 Beaumont and Marie, Vaudemont and Lestrale. 
 
 Here was a royal fellowship of death !—- 
 
 Where is the number of our English dead ? 
 
 [^Herald presents another paper. 
 Edward the duke of York, the earl of Suffolk, 
 
 Sir Richard Ketley, Davy Gam, esquire; 
 
 None else of name; and, of all other men, 
 
 But five and twenty. O God, thy arm was here. 
 
 And not to us, but to thy arm alone. 
 
 Ascribe we all.—When, without stratagem. 
 
 But in plain shock, and even play of battle. 
 
 Was ever known so great and little loss. 
 
 On one part, and on the other ?—Take it, God, 
 
 For it is only thine ! 
 
 E.te. ’Tis wonderful! 
 
 K. Hen. Come, go we in procession to the village: 
 And be it death proclaimed through our host. 
 
 To boast of this, or take that praise from God, ' 
 
 Which is his only. 
 
 Flu. Is it not lawful, and please your majesty, to tell ! 
 bow many is killed? j 
 
 K. Hen. Yes, captain ; but with this acknowledge- j 
 ment. 
 
 That God fought for us. 
 
 Flu. Yes, my conscience, he did os great goot. 
 
 K. Hen. Do we all holy rites; 
 
 . Let there be sung Non nobis, and Te Deum. 
 
 The dead with charity enclos’d in clay. 
 
 We’ll then to Calais; and to England then ; 
 
 Where ne’er from France arriv’d more happy men. 
 
 [eareunt. 
 
SCENJi I. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 89 
 
 ACT THE FIFTH. 
 
 Enter Chorus. 
 
 Cho. Vouchsafe to those thathav^e notread the story, 
 That I may prompt them : and of such as have, 
 j I humbly pray them to admit the excuse 
 1 Of time, of numbers, and due coarse of things. 
 
 Which cannot in their huge and proper life 
 Be here presented. Now we bear the king 
 Toward Calais: grant him there ; there seen, 
 
 Heave him away upon your winged thoughts, 
 Athwart the sea : behold, the English beach; 
 
 Pales in the flood with men, with wives, and boys. 
 Whose shouts and claps out-voice the deep-mouth’d 
 I Which, like a mighty whiffler ’fore the king, [sea, 
 ' Seems to prepare his way : so let him land ; 
 
 ; And, solemnly, see him set on to London, 
 
 ! So swift a pace hath thought, that even now 
 ' You may imagine him upon Blackheath : 
 
 ; Where that his lords desire him to have borne 
 I His bruised helmet, and his bended sword, 
 j Before him, through the city: he forbids it, 
 
 I Being free from vainness and self-glorious pride; 
 
 ' Giving full troph}^ signal, and ostent, ' 
 
 I Quite from himself, to God. But now behold, 
 
 In the quick forge and working-house of thought. 
 How London doth pour out her citizens ! 
 
 ' The mayor, and all his brethren, in best sort,— 
 
 ( Like to the senators of the antique Rome, 
 
 ! With the plebeians swarming at their heels,— 
 i Go forth, and fetch their conquering Caesar in : 
 
 1 As, by a lower but by loving likelihood. 
 
 Were now the general of our gracious empress 
 (4s, in good time, he may), from Ireland coming, 
 Bringing rebellion broached on his sword. 
 
 How many would the peaceful city quit, 
 
90 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 To welcome him-? much more, and much more cause. 
 Did they this Harry. Now in London place him • ; 
 
 (As yet the lamentation of the French 
 Invites the king of England’s stay at home; 
 
 The emperor’s coming in behalf of France, 
 
 To order peace between them;) and omit ' 
 
 All the occurrences, whatever chanc’d, 
 
 Till Harry’s back-return again to France; 
 
 There must we bring him ; and myself have play’d 
 The interim, by remembering you—^’tis past. 
 
 Then brook abridgment; and your eyes advance 
 After your thoughts, straight back again to France. 
 
 [exit. 
 
 SCENE I. FRANCE. AN ENGLISH COURT OF GUARD. 
 
 Enter Fluellen and Gower. 
 
 Gow. Nay, that’s right; but why wear you your leek 
 to-day ? saint Davy’s day is past. 
 
 Flu. There is occasions and causes why and where- '' 
 fore in all things : I will tell you, as my friend, captain 
 Gower ; the rascally, scald, beggarly,lousy, pragging ,j 
 knave. Pistol,—which you and yourself, and all the 
 ’orld, know to be no petter than a fellow, look you '> 
 now, of no merits,—be is come to me, and prings me 
 pread and salt yesterday, look you, and bid me eat my p 
 leek : it was in a place where 1 could not breed no 
 contentions with him : but I will he so pold as to wear ; 
 it in my cap till I see him once again, and then I will , 
 tell him a little piece of my desires. 
 
 Enter Pistol. 
 
 Gow, Why, here he comes, swelling like a turkey- 
 cock. I 
 
 Flu. ’Tis no matter for his swellings, nor hi.s turkey- 
 cocks.—Got pless you, antient Pistol? you scurvy, ^ 
 lousy knave. Got bless you ! jl 
 
SCENE I. KING HENRY V. 91 
 
 Fist. Ha! art thou Bedlam ? dost thou thirst, base 
 Trojan, 
 
 To have me fold up Parca’s fatal web ? 
 
 Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek. 
 
 Flu. I peseech jou heartily, scurvy, lousy knave, 
 at my desires, and my requests, and my petitions, to 
 eat, look you, this leek ; because, look you, you do 
 not love it, nor your affections, and your appetites, 
 and your digestions, does not agree with it, 1 would 
 desire you to eat it. 
 
 Fist. Not for Cadwallader, and all his goats, 
 
 ’ jF/u. There is one goat for you. [strikes hm'] Will 
 ' you be so goot, scald knave, as eat it.^ 
 
 Fist. Base Trojan, thou shalt die. 
 
 Flu. You say very true, scald knave, when Got’s 
 will is : I will desire you to live in the mean time, 
 and eat your victuals; come, there is sauce for it. 
 [striking him again] You called me yesterday, moun¬ 
 tain-squire; but I will make you to-day a squire of 
 low degree. I pray you, fall to; if you can mock a 
 leek, you can eat a leek. 
 
 Gow. Enough, captain; you have astonished him. 
 Flu. I say, I will make him eat some part of my 
 leek, or I will peat his pate four days pite, I pray 
 you; it is goot for your green wound, and your 
 ploody coxcomb. 
 
 Fist. Must I bite ? 
 
 Flu. Yes, certainly; and out of doubt, and out of 
 questions too, and ambiguities. 
 
 Fist. By this leek, I will most horribly revenge; I 
 eat, and eke I swear, 
 
 1 Flu. Eat, I pray ycvE; will you have some more 
 [sauce to your leek ^ there is not enough leek to swear 
 i Fist. Quiet thy cudgel ; thou dost see, I eat. [by. 
 
 -F/u. Much goot do you, scald knave, heartily. Nay, 
 ’pray you, throw none away; the skin is goot for your 
 
92 
 
 KING HENRY Y. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 pi’oken coxcomb. When you take occasions to see 
 leeks hereafter, I pray you, mock at them ; that is al!. 
 
 Fist. Good, 
 
 Flu. Ay, leeks is goot:—Hold j'ou, there is a groat 
 to heal your pate. 
 
 Fist. Me a groat t 
 
 Flu. Yes, verily, and in truth,you shall take it; or 
 1 have another leek in my pocket, which 3 'ou shall eat. 
 
 Fist. I take thy groat, in earnest of revenge. 
 
 Flu. If I owe you any thing, I will pay you in 
 cudgels; you shall be a woodrnonger, and l 3 uy nothing 
 of me but cudgels. Got be wi’ you, and keep you, 
 and heal your pate. [eait. 
 
 Fist. All hell shall stir for this. 
 
 Gow. Go, go; you are a counterfeit cowardly knave. 
 Will you mock at an antient tradition,—begun upon 
 an honourable respect, and worn as a memorable 
 trophy of predeceased valour,—and dare not avouch 
 in your deeds any of your words ? I have seen you 
 gleeking and galling at this gentleman twice or thrice. 
 You thought, because he could not speak English in 
 the native garb, he could not therefore handle an 
 English cudgel: you find it otherwise ; and, hence¬ 
 forth, let a Welch correction teach you a good Eng¬ 
 lish condition. Fare ye well. [ent. 
 
 Fist. Doth fortune play the huswife with me now 
 News have I, that my Nell is dead i’the spital 
 Of malady of France ; 
 
 And there my rendezvous is quite cut ofi*. 
 
 Old I do wax; and from my weary limbs 
 Honour is cudgell’d. Well, bawd will I turn. 
 
 And something lean to cutpurse of quick hand. 
 
 To England will 1 steal, and there I’ll steal; 
 
 And patches will I get unto these scars, 
 
 And swear I got them in the Gallia wars. [exit. 
 
SUtNE II. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 93 
 
 SCENE ri. TROYES IN CHAMPAGNE. AN APART¬ 
 MENT IN THE FRENCH KING’s PALACE. 
 
 Enter, at one door, King Henry, Bedford, Gloster, 
 Exeter, Warwick, Westmorelaiid, and other Lords; 
 at another, the French King, Queen Isabel, the 
 Princess Katharine, Lords, Ladies, ^ c. the Duke of 
 Burgundy, and his Train. 
 
 K. Hen. Peace to this meeting, wherefore we are 
 Unto our brother France,—and to our sister, [met! 
 Health and fair time of da)"-joj and good wishes 
 To our most fair and princely cousin Katharine ; 
 
 And (as a branch and member of this royalty, 
 
 By whom this great assembly is contriv’d). 
 
 We do salute you, duke of Burgundy ;— 
 
 And, princes French, and peers, health to you all! 
 
 , Fr. King. Right joyous are we to behold your face, 
 i Most worthy brother England ; fairly met: — 
 
 ' So are you, princes English, every one. 
 
 Q. Isa. So happy be the issue, brother England, 
 
 I Of this good day, and of this gracious meeting, 
 
 I As we are now glad to behold your eyes ; 
 
 Your eyes, which hitherto have borne in them 
 I Against the French, that met them in their bent. 
 
 The fatal balls of murdering basilisks : 
 
 The venom of such looks, we fairly hope. 
 
 Have lost their quality ; and that this day 
 Shall change all griefs, and quarrels, into love. 
 
 K. Hen. To cry amen to that, thus we appear. 
 Q.Isa. You English princes all, I do salute you. 
 
 ; B^ir. My duty to you both, on equal love. 
 
 Great kings of France and England ! That I have 
 labour’d 
 
 With all my wits, my pains, and strong endeavours, 
 
 I To bring your most imperial majesties 
 j Unto this bar and royal interview, 
 
94 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Your mightiness on both parts best can witness. 
 Since then my office hath so far prevail’d, 
 
 That, face to face, and royal eye to eye. 
 
 You have congreeted ; let it not disgrace me. 
 
 If I demand, before this royal view, 
 
 What rub, or what impediment, there is, 
 
 Why that the naked, poor, and mangled peace. 
 Dear nurse of arts, plenties, and joyful births. 
 Should not, in this best garden of the world. 
 
 Our fertile France, put up her lovely visage? 
 
 Alas ! she hath 'from France too long been chas’d j 
 And all her husbandry doth lie on heaps. 
 Corrupting in its own fertility. 
 
 Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart, 
 Dnpruned dies : her hedges even-pleached,— 
 
 Like prisoners wildly overgrown with hair, 
 
 Put forth disorder’d twigs : her fallow leas 
 The darnel, hemlock, and rank fumitory. 
 
 Doth root upon ; while that the coulter rusts. 
 
 That should deracinate such savagery : 
 
 The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth 
 The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover, 
 Wanting the scythe, alt uncorrected, rank. 
 Conceives by idleness y and nothing teems. 
 
 But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs. 
 Losing both beauty and utility. 
 
 And as our vineyards, fallows, meads, and hedges, 
 Defective in their natures, grow to wildness ; 
 Even so our houses, and ourselves, and children. 
 Have lost, or do not learn, for want of time. 
 
 The sciences that should become our country j 
 But grow, like savages,—as soldiers will. 
 
 That nothing do but meditate on blood,— 
 
 To swearing, and stern looks, diffus’d attire. 
 
 And every thing that seems unnatural. ^ 
 Which to reduce into our former favour, 
 
KING HENRY V. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 j You are assembled: and my speech entreats, 
 j TLat I may know the let, why gentle peace 
 Should not expel these inconveniences, 
 
 ' And bless us with her former qualities. 
 
 K. Hen. If, duke of Burgundy, you would the peace, 
 Whose want gives growth to the imperfections 
 Which you have cited, you must buy that peace 
 With full accord to all our just demands j 
 Whose tenours and particular effects 
 You have, enschedul’d briefly, in your bands. 
 
 Bur, The king hath beard them ; to the which, as 
 yet. 
 
 There is no answer made. 
 
 K. Hen. Well then, the peace. 
 
 Which you before so urg’d, lies in his answer. 
 
 Fr, King. I have but with a cursorary eye 
 O’er-glanc’d the articles : pleaseth your grace 
 To appoint some of your council presently 
 To sit with us once more, with better heed 
 To re-survey them, we will, suddenly. 
 
 Pass our accept, and peremptory answer. 
 
 ! K. Hen. Brother, w'e shall.—Go, uncle Exeter,— 
 And brother Clarence,—and you, brother Gloster,— 
 Warwick,—and Huntingdon,—go with the king : 
 
 I And take with you free power, to ratify, 
 j Augment, or alter, as your wisdoms best 
 
 i Shall see advantageable for our dignity. 
 
 Any thing in, or out of, our demands ; 
 
 And we’ll consign thereto.— Will you, fair sister. 
 
 Go with the princes, or stay here with us? 
 
 Q. Isa. Our gracious brother, I will go with them ; 
 Haply, a woman’s voice may do some good. 
 
 When articles, too nicely urg’d, be stood on. [us? 
 
 K. Hen. Yet leave our cousin Katharine here with 
 l^he is our capital demand, comprised 
 jWithiu the fore rJiiik of our articles. 
 
 II 
 
9o 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Q. Isa. She hath good leave. 
 
 [exeunt all but K. Hen. Kath. and her Gentlewoman.' 
 
 K. Hen. Fair Katharine, and most fair ! ; 
 
 Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms, 
 
 Such as will enter at a lady’s ear, 
 
 And plead his lovesuit to her gentle heart ? 
 
 Kath. Your majesty shall mock at mej I cannot i 
 speak your England. J 
 
 K. Hen. O, fair Katharine, if you will love me: 
 soundly with your French heart, 1 will be glad to hear i 
 you confess it brokenly with your English tongue.. 
 Do you like me, Kate ? 
 
 Kath. Pardonnez moy, I cannot tell vat is—like me. 
 
 K. Hen. An angel is like you, Kate; and you are; 
 like an angel. 
 
 Kath. Que dit-il? queje suis semhlable a les anges9 
 
 Alice. Ouy, vrayment (sauf vostre grace) ainsi dit-il. 
 
 K. Hen. 1 said so, dear Katharine ; and 1 raustnoi i 
 blush to affirm it. 
 
 Kath. 0 bon Dieu! les langues des hommes sont 
 pleines des tromperies. 
 
 K. Hen. What says she, fair one ? that the tongues; 
 of men are full of deceits i* 
 
 Alice. Ouy; dat de tongues of de mans is be full 
 of deceits : dat is de princess. 
 
 K. Hen. The princess is the better English-woman. i 
 riaith, Kate, my wooing is tit for thy understanding : 
 
 I am glad, thou canst speak no better English ; for, if: 
 thou couldst, thou wouldst find me such a plain king,;; 
 that thou wouldst think, I had sold my farm to buy^' 
 my crown. I know no ways to mir.ce it in love, but' 
 directly to say—1 love you: then, if you urge me i 
 further than to say—Do you in faith ? I wear out my. 
 suit. Give me your answer; i’faith, do; and so olapj; 
 hands, and a bargain : how say you, lady ? dv 
 
 Kath. Sauf vostre honncur, we understand well. ''' 
 
SCENE II. 
 
 97 
 
 KING HEr)[RY V. 
 
 K. Hen. Marry, if you would put roe to verses, or 
 to dance for your sake, Kate, why you undid me: for 
 the one, 1 have neither words nor measure; and for 
 the other, 1 have no strength in measure, yet a reason¬ 
 able measure in strength. If I could win a lady at 
 leap-frog, or by vaulting into my saddle with my ar¬ 
 mour on my back, under the correction of bragging be 
 ^t spoken, 1 should quickly leap into a wife. Or, if;l 
 , might buffet for my love, or bound my horse for her 
 ' favours, 1 could lay on like a butcher, and sit like a 
 jackanapes, never off: but, before God, 1 cannot look 
 I greenly, nor gasp out my eloquence, nor 1 have no 
 cunning in protestation; only downright oaths, which 
 I never use till urged, nor ever break for urging. If 
 tbou canst love a fellow of this temper, Kate, whose 
 face is not worth sun-burning, that never looks in his 
 i glass for love of any thing he sees there, let thine eye 
 be thy cook. I speak to thee plain soldier; if thou 
 loanstlove me for this, take me: if not, to say to thee 
 1 —that I shall die, is true ; but—for thy love, by the 
 Lord, no; yet I love thee too. And while thou livest, 
 dear Kate, take a fellow of plain and uncoined cou- 
 Istancy; for he perforce must do thee right, because 
 ihe hath not the gift to woo in other places : for these 
 I fellows of infinite tongue, that can rhyme themselves 
 I into ladies’ favours,—they do always reason themselves 
 |ont again. What! a speaker is but a prater; a rhyme 
 llis but a ballad. A good leg will fall; a straight back 
 jwill stoop; a black beard will turn white } a curled 
 jpate will grow l»ald; a fair face will wither; a full 
 ieye will wax hollow; but a good heart, Kate, is the 
 ijsun and moon; or, rather, the sun, and not the moon; 
 |for it shines bright, and never changes, but keeps his 
 course truly. IfthoU would have such a one, take me : 
 and take me, take a soldier; take a soldier, take a 
 
98 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 king: and what sajest thou then to mj love ? speak* j 
 mv fair, and fairly, I pray thee. | 
 
 Kath. Is it possible dat 1 should love de enemy of j 
 France ? ■ 
 
 K. Hen. No; it is not possible, you should love the j 
 enemy of France, Kate : but, in loving me, you should ) 
 love the friend of France; for I love France so well, I 
 that I will not part with a village of it; I will have 
 it all mine : and, Kate, when France is mine, and I 
 am yours, then yours is France, and you are mine. 
 
 Kath. I cannot tell vat is dat. 
 
 K. Hen. No, Kate ? I will tell thee in French ; 
 which, I am sure, will hang upon my tongue like a 
 new-married wife about her husband’s neck, hardly to 
 be shook off. Quand fay la •possession de France, et 
 quand vous avez la possession de moi (let me see, what 
 then ? saint Dennis be my speed!)— done vostre est 
 France, et vousestes mienne. It is as easy for me, Kate, 
 to conquer the kingdom, as to speak so much more 
 French : 1 shall never move thee in French, unle.ss it 
 be to laugh at me. 
 
 Kath. Sauf vostre honneur, le Francois que vqus 
 parlez, est meilleur, que I'Anglois lequelje parle. 
 
 K. Hen. No, ’faith, ’tis not, Kate ; but thy speaking [ 
 of my tongue, and I thine, most truly falsely, must 1 
 needs be granted to be much at one. But, Kate, dost | 
 thou understand thus much English ? Canstthou love j 
 me ? I 
 
 Kath. I cannot tell. • 
 
 K. Hen. Can any of your neighbours tell, Kate ? 
 I’ll ask them. Come, T know thon lovest me : and at i 
 night when you come into your closet, you’ll question > 
 this gentlewoman about me ; and I know, Kate, you • 
 will, to her, dispraise those parts in me, that you love 
 with your heart: but, good Kate, mock me, merci¬ 
 fully ; the rather, gentle princess, because 1 love thee 
 
SCkNE 11. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 99 
 
 cruelly. If ever thou be’st nun^, Kate (as I have a 
 saving faith within me,—tells me,—thou shalt,) 1 get 
 I thee with scambling, and thou must therefore needs 
 , prove a good soldier-breeder: shall not thou and I, 
 between saint Dennis and saint George, compound a 
 ; boy, half French, half English, that shall go to Con- 
 I stantinople, and take the Turk by the beard ? shall we 
 ’ not ? what sayest thou, my fair flower-de-luce ? 
 
 Kaih. 1 do not know dat. 
 
 K. Hen. No ; ’tis hereafter to know, but now to 
 promise ; do but now promise, Kate, you will endea- 
 : vour for your French part of such a boyj and, for my 
 English moiety, take the word of a king and a bache¬ 
 lor. How answer you, la plus belle Katharine du 
 monde, man tres chere et divine deesse ?. 
 
 . Kath. Your majesle ave fausse French enough to 
 deceive de most sage demoiselle dat is en France. 
 
 . K. Hen. Now, fie upon my false French ! By mine 
 I honour, in true English, I love thee, Kate : by which 
 honour I dare not swear, thou lovest me ; yet my blood 
 begins to flatter me that thou dost, notwithstanding 
 ilhe poor and untenipering effect of my-visage. Now 
 beshrew my father’s ambition! he was thinking of 
 jcivil wars when he got me; therefore was 1 created 
 with a stubborn outside, with an aspect of iron, that, 
 iwhen I come to woo ladies, 1 fright them. But, in 
 faith, Kate, the elder 1 wax, the better I shall appear; 
 my comfort is, that old age, that ill layer-up of beauty, 
 can do no more spoil upon my face: thou hast me, 
 if thou hast me, at the worst; and thou shalt wear 
 me, if thou wear me, better and better ; and therefore 
 itellme, most fair Katharine, will you have me ? Put 
 jflf your maiden blushes ; avouch the thoughts of your 
 leart with the looks of an empress; take me by the 
 jand, and say—Harry of England, I am thine : which 
 Vord thou shalt no sooner bless mine ear withal, but 
 
100 KING HENRY V. act v. J 
 
 I will tell thee aload—England is thine, Ireland is i 
 thine, France is thine, and Henry Plautagenet isv 
 thine; who, though I speak it before his face, if ho J 
 be not fellow with the best king, thou shalt find the i 
 best king of good fellows. Come, your answer ini 
 broken music; for thy voice is music, and thy Eng-T : 
 lish broken : therefore, queen of all, Katharine, break ^ 
 thy mind to me in broken English, Wilt thou have ^ i 
 me? 
 
 Kath. Dat is, as it shall please de toy mm pere, ; 
 
 K, Hen. Nay, it will please him well, Kate; it 
 shall please him, Kate, 
 
 Kate. Den it shall also content me. ! | 
 
 K. Hen. Upon that 1 will kiss jour hand, and 1 calll : 
 you—my queen. 
 
 Kath. Laissez,mon seigneur, laissez,laissez: mafoy, ! 
 je ne veux point que tons abbaisses vostre grandeur, en i 
 baisant la main d’une vostre indigne serviteure; excusez if 
 moyije vous supplie, mm tres puissant seigneur, 
 
 K, Hen. Then I will kiss your lips, Kate. i 
 
 Kath. Les dames, et demoiselles, pmr estre baisSes \ 
 devant leur nopces, il n’est pas le costume de France. 
 
 K. Hen. Madam, my interpreter, what says she ? ■: ] 
 
 Alice. Dat it is not de fashion pmr les ladies of •[ 
 France,—I cannot tell what is, baiser, en English. 
 
 K. Hen. To kiss. / ' 
 
 Alice. Your majesty entendre betlre que moy. 
 
 K. Hen. It is not the fashion for the maids in France ^4 
 to kiss before they are married, would she say ? 
 
 Alice. Ouy, vrayment. 
 
 K. Hen. O, Kate, nice easterns curt’sy to great 
 kings. Dear Kate, you and 1 cannot be confined ' 
 within the weak list of a country’s fashion: we are 
 the makers of manners, Katej and the liberty that 
 follows our places, stops the mouths of all find-faults ; 
 as 1 will do jours, for upholding the nice fashion of 
 
8CENB II. 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 101 
 
 i| jouT coantry, in denying me a kiss: therefore, pati- 
 I enlly, and yielding, [/cisstng her\ You have witchcraft 
 I in your lips, Kate: there is more eloquence in a sugar 
 
 i touch of them, than in the tongues of the French 
 
 ii council; and they should sooner persuade Harry of 
 ! England, than a general petition of monarchs. Here 
 
 comes your father. 
 
 j Enter the French King and Queen, Burgundy, Bedford, 
 i Gloster, Exeter, Westmoreland, and other French 
 and English Lords. 
 
 Bur. God save your majesty ! my royal cousin, teach 
 I you our princess English ? 
 
 I K. Hen. 1 would have her learn, my fair cousin, how 
 I perfectly 1 love her; and that is good English. 
 
 Bur. Is she not apt ? 
 
 K. Hen. Our tongue is rough, coz; and my condi> 
 
 I tion is not smooth: so that, having neither the voice 
 I nor the heart of flattery about me, 1 cannot so conjure 
 I up the spirit of love in her, that he will appear in his 
 true likeness. 
 
 Bur. Pardon the frankness of my mirth, if I answer 
 : yon for that. If you would conjure in her, yon must 
 t make a circle: if conjure up love in her, in his true 
 ' likeness, he must appear naked, and blind : can you 
 blame her then, being a maid yet rosed over with the 
 J virgin crimson of modesty, if she deny the appearance 
 of a naked blind boy in her naked seeing self? It 
 were, my lord, a hard condition for a maid to consign 
 to. 
 
 K. Hen. Yet they do wink, and yield; as love is 
 j blind, and enforces. 
 
 I Bur. They are then excused, my lord, when they see 
 : not what they do. 
 
 K. Hen. Then, good my lord, teach your cousin to 
 j consent to winking. 
 
 Bur. 1 will wink on her to consent, my lord, if yon 
 
102 
 
 KING: HENRY V. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 ■will teach her to know my meaning : ;for maids, well 
 snmraered and warm kept, are like flies at Bartbolo* . 
 mew-tide, blind, though they have their eyes ; and then 
 they will endure handling, which before would not 
 abide looking on. 
 
 K. Hen. This moral ties me over to time, and a hot 
 summer ; and so I will catch the fly, your cousin, in 
 the tatter end, and she must be blind too. 
 
 Bur, As love is, my lord, before it loves. 
 
 K. Hen. It is so : and you may, some of you, thank 
 love for my blindness; who cannot see many a fair 
 French city, for one fair French maid that stands in 
 my way. 
 
 Fr.King. Yes, my lord, you see them perspectively, 
 the cities turned into a maid ; for they are all girdled 
 with maiden walls, that war hath never entered. 
 
 K. Hen. Shall Kate be ray wife ? 
 
 Fr.King. So please you. 
 
 K. Hen. I am content; so the maiden cities you talk 
 of, may wait on her: so the maid, that stood in the 
 way of my wish, shall show me the way to my will. 
 
 Fr, King. We have consented to all terms of reason. 
 
 K. Hen. Ls’t so, my lords of England ? 
 
 West. The king hath granted every article : ; 
 
 His daughter, first; and then, in sequel, all, 
 
 According to their firm proposed natures. 
 
 Exe. Only, he hath not yet subscribed this |jj 
 
 Where your majesty demands,—That the king of . 
 France, having any occasion to write for matter of ;i 
 grant, shall name your highness in this form, and with i| 
 this addition, in French, —Notre tres cher Jilz Henry j 
 roy d'Angleterre, heretier de France ; a.ad thus in | 
 Latin, —Prceclarissimusjilias noster Henricus, rex iln- ^ 
 gliee et hceres Francice. 4 
 
 Fr. King. Norithis I have not, brother, so denied, t W 
 But your request shall make me let it pass. *| 
 
SCENE II. KING HENRY V. 103 
 
 K. Hen. I pray you then, in Jove and dear alliance, 
 Let that one article rank with the rest: 
 
 And, thereupon, give me your daughter. 
 
 Fr. King. Take her, fair son ; and from her blood 
 raise up 
 
 Issue to me : that the contending kingdoms 
 f Of France and England, whose very shores look pale 
 ! With envy of each other’s happiness, 
 
 May cease their hatred ; and this dear conjunction 
 Plant neighbourhood and Christian-like accord 
 In their sweet bosoms, that never war advance 
 His bleeding sword ’twixt England and fair France. 
 
 I All. Amen! 
 
 ! K. Hen. Now welcome, Kate :—and bear me wit¬ 
 ness all, 
 
 That here 1 kiss her as my sovereign queen, [flourish. 
 Q. Isa. God, the best maker of all marriages, 
 
 I Combine your hearts in one, your realms in one! 
 
 As man and wife, being two, are one in love, 
 
 So be there ’twixt your kingdoms such a spousal. 
 That never may ill office, or fell jealousy. 
 
 Which troubles oft the bed of blessed marriage, 
 wThrustin between the paction of these kingdoms, 
 mTo make divorce of their incorporate league; 
 iTh’at English may as French, French Englishmen, 
 
 III Receive each other!—God speak this Amen ! 
 y All. Amen! [<^ay, 
 
 II K. Hen. Prepare we for our marriage;—on which 
 i My lord of Burgundy, we’ll take your oath, 
 
 flAnd all the peers, for surety of our leagues.— 
 fjThen shall 1 swear to Kate,—and jou to me ; 
 
 IjjAnd may our oaths well kept and prosp’rous be! 
 j [exeunt. 
 
 i| Enter Chorus. 
 
 iThus far, with rough, and all unable pen, 
 
 <j Our bending author hath pursu’d the story ; 
 
104 
 
 KING HENRY V. 
 
 ACT V 
 
 lu little room confining mighty men,: 
 
 Mangling by starts the fall course of their glory.' 
 Small time, but in that small most greatly, liv’d . t 
 This star of England : fortune made his sword ; * 
 By which the world’s best garden he achiev’d. 
 
 And of it left bis son imperial lord. 
 
 Henry the Sixth, in infant bands crown’d king 
 Of France and England, did this king succeed ; 
 Whose state so many bad the managing, 
 
 That they lost France, and made his England bleed; 
 Which oft our stage hath shown ; and, for their sake 
 In your fair minds let this acceptance take. lent 
 
 TH£ END. I 
 
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