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Act III of Henry the Fifth by William Shakespeare
Act III
Prologue
[Enter Chorus]
Chorus. Thus with imagined wing our swift scene flies
In motion of no less celerity Than that of thought. Suppose that you have
seen The well-appointed king at Hampton pier
Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet With silken streamers the young Phoebus fanning:
Play with your fancies, and in them behold Upon the hempen tackle ship-boys climbing;
Hear the shrill whistle which doth order give To sounds confused; behold the threaden sails,
Borne with 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 ravage and behold A city on the inconstant billows dancing;
For so appears this fleet majestical, Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, follow:
Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy, And leave your England, as dead midnight still,
Guarded with grandsires, babies and old women, Either past or not arrived to pith and puissance;
For who is he, whose chin is but 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 off]
And down goes all before them. Still be kind, And eke out our performance with your mind.
[Exit]
Scene 1 France. Before Harfleur.
[Alarum. Enter KING HENRY, EXETER, BEDFORD,] [p]GLOUCESTER, and Soldiers, with scaling-ladders]
Henry V. Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead. In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility: But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger; Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage; Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the portage of the head Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm
it As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit To his full height. On, on, you noblest English.
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof! Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest That those whom you call'd fathers did beget
you. Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman, Whose limbs were made in England, show us
here The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base, That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!'
[Exeunt. Alarum, and chambers go off]
Act III, Scene 1
The same.
[Enter NYM, BARDOLPH, PISTOL, and Boy]
Bardolph. On, on, on, on, on! to the breach, to the breach!
Nym. Pray thee, corporal, stay: the knocks are too hot;
and, for mine own part, I have not a case of lives:
the humour of it is too hot, that is the very plain-song of it.
Pistol. The plain-song is most just: for humours do abound:
Knocks go and come; God's vassals drop and die;
And sword and shield, In bloody field,
Doth win immortal fame. Boy. Would I were in an alehouse in London!
I would give all my fame for a pot of ale and safety.
Pistol. And I: If wishes would prevail with me,
My purpose should not fail with me, But thither would I hie.
Boy. As duly, but not as truly, As bird doth sing on bough.
[Enter FLUELLEN]
Fluellen. Up to the breach, you dogs! avaunt, you cullions!
[Driving them forward]
Pistol. Be merciful, great duke, to men of mould.
Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage, Abate thy rage, great duke!
Good bawcock, bate thy rage; use lenity, sweet chuck!
Nym. These be good humours! your honour wins bad humours.
swashers. I am boy to them all three: but all they
three, though they would serve me, could not be man
to me; for indeed three such antics do not amount to
a man. For Bardolph, he is white-livered and red-faced; by the means whereof a' faces it
out, but fights not. For Pistol, he hath a killing
tongue and a quiet sword; by the means whereof a'
breaks words, and keeps whole weapons. For Nym, he
hath heard that men of few words are the best men;
and therefore he scorns to say his prayers, lest
a' should be thought a coward: but his few bad
words are matched with as few good deeds; for a'
never broke any man's head but his own, and that
was against a post when he was drunk. They will
steal any thing, and call it purchase. Bardolph
stole a lute-case, bore it twelve leagues, and sold
it for three half pence. Nym and Bardolph are sworn
brothers in filching, and in Calais they stole a
fire-shovel: I knew by that piece of service the
men would carry coals. They would have me as
familiar with men's pockets as their gloves or their
handkerchers: which makes much against my manhood,
if I should take from another's pocket to put into
mine; for it is plain pocketing up of wrongs. I
must leave them, and seek some better service: their villany goes against my weak stomach,
and therefore I must cast it up.
[Exit]
[Re-enter FLUELLEN, GOWER following]
Gower. Captain Fluellen, you must come presently to the
mines; the Duke of Gloucester would speak with you.
Fluellen. To the mines! tell you the duke, it is not so good
to come to the mines; for, look you, the mines is
not according to the disciplines of the war: the
concavities of it is not sufficient; for, look you,
the athversary, you may discuss unto the duke, look
you, is digt himself four yard under the countermines: by Cheshu, I think a' will plough
up all, if there is not better directions.
Gower. The Duke of Gloucester, to whom the order of the
siege is given, is altogether directed by an
Irishman, a very valiant gentleman, i' faith. Fluellen. It is Captain Macmorris, is it not?
Gower. I think it be. Fluellen. By Cheshu, he is an ***, as in the
world: I will verify as much in his beard: be has no more
directions in the true disciplines of the wars, look
you, of the Roman disciplines, than is a puppy-dog. [Enter MACMORRIS and Captain JAMY]
Gower. Here a' comes; and the Scots captain, Captain Jamy, with him.
Fluellen. Captain Jamy is a marvellous falourous gentleman,
that is certain; and of great expedition and knowledge in th' aunchient wars, upon my particular
knowledge of his directions: by Cheshu, he will
maintain his argument as well as any military man in
the world, in the disciplines of the pristine wars
of the Romans. Jamy. I say gud-day, Captain Fluellen.
Fluellen. God-den to your worship, good Captain James.
Gower. How now, Captain Macmorris! have you quit the
mines? have the pioneers given o'er? Macmorris. By Chrish, la! tish ill done: the
work ish give over, the trompet sound the retreat. By my
hand, I swear, and my father's soul, the work ish
ill done; it ish give over: I would have blowed up the
town, so Chrish save me, la! in an hour: O, tish ill
done, tish ill done; by my hand, tish ill done!
Fluellen. Captain Macmorris, I beseech you now, will you
voutsafe me, look you, a few disputations with you,
as partly touching or concerning the disciplines of
the war, the Roman wars, in the way of argument, look you, and friendly communication; partly
to satisfy my opinion, and partly for the satisfaction,
look you, of my mind, as touching the direction of
the military discipline; that is the point. Jamy. It sall be vary gud, gud feith, gud
captains bath: and I sall quit you with gud leve, as I may
pick occasion; that sall I, marry.
Macmorris. It is no time to discourse, so Chrish save me: the
day is hot, and the weather, and the wars, and the
king, and the dukes: it is no time to discourse. The
town is beseeched, and the trumpet call us to the
breach; and we talk, and, be Chrish, do nothing: 'tis shame for us all: so God sa' me, 'tis
shame to stand still; it is shame, by my hand: and
there is throats to be cut, and works to be done; and
there ish nothing done, so Chrish sa' me, la!
Jamy. By the mess, ere theise eyes of mine take themselves
to slomber, ay'll de gud service, or ay'll lig i'
the grund for it; ay, or go to death; and ay'll pay
't as valourously as I may, that sall I suerly do,
that is the breff and the long. Marry, I *** full
fain hear some question 'tween you tway. Fluellen. Captain Macmorris, I think, look
you, under your correction, there is not many of your nation—
Macmorris. Of my nation! What ish my nation? Ish a villain,
and a ***, and a knave, and a rascal. What ish
my nation? Who talks of my nation? Fluellen. Look you, if you take the matter
otherwise than is meant, Captain Macmorris, peradventure I shall
think you do not use me with that affability as
in discretion you ought to use me, look you:
being as good a man as yourself, both in the disciplines
of war, and in the derivation of my birth, and
in other particularities.
Macmorris. I do not know you so good a man as myself: so
Chrish save me, I will cut off your head. Gower. Gentlemen both, you will mistake each
other. Jamy. A! that's a foul fault.
[A parley sounded]
Gower. The town sounds a parley. Fluellen. Captain Macmorris, when there is
more better opportunity to be required, look you, I will
be so bold as to tell you I know the disciplines
of war; and there is an end.
[Exeunt]
Scene 3
The same. Before the gates.
[The Governor and some Citizens on the walls; the English forces below. Enter KING HENRY
and his train]
Henry V. How yet resolves the governor of the town?
This is the latest parle we will admit; Therefore to our best mercy give yourselves;
Or like to men proud of destruction Defy us to our worst: for, as I am a soldier,
A name that in my thoughts becomes me best, If I begin the battery once again,
I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur Till in her ashes she lie buried.
The gates of mercy shall be all shut up, And the flesh'd soldier, rough and hard of
heart, In liberty of bloody hand shall range
With conscience wide as hell, mowing like grass
Your fresh-fair virgins and your flowering infants.
What is it then to me, if impious war, 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 rein can hold licentious wickedness 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
O'erblows the filthy and contagious clouds Of heady ***, spoil and villany.
If not, why, in a moment look to see The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand
Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters;
Your fathers taken by the silver beards, And their most reverend heads dash'd to the
walls, Your naked infants spitted upon pikes,
Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confused Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry
At Herod's bloody-hunting slaughtermen. What say you? will you yield, and this avoid,
Or, guilty in defence, be thus destroy'd? Governor of Harfleur. Our expectation hath
this day an end: The Dauphin, whom of succors we entreated,
Returns us that his powers are yet not ready To raise so great a siege. Therefore, great
king, We yield our town and lives to thy soft mercy.
Enter our gates; dispose of us and ours; For we no longer are defensible.
Henry V. Open your gates. Come, uncle Exeter, Go you and enter Harfleur; there remain,
And fortify it strongly 'gainst the French: Use mercy to them all. For us, dear uncle,
The winter coming on and sickness growing Upon our soldiers, we will retire to Calais.
To-night in Harfleur we will be your guest; To-morrow for the march are we addrest.
[Flourish. The King and his train enter the town]
Scene 4
The FRENCH KING’s palace.
[Enter KATHARINE and ALICE]
Katharine. Alice, tu as ete en Angleterre, et tu parles bien le langage.
Alice. Un peu, madame. Katharine. Je te prie, m'enseignez: il faut
que j'apprenne a parler. Comment appelez-vous la main en Anglois?
Alice. La main? elle est appelee de hand. Katharine. De hand. Et les doigts?
Alice. Les doigts? ma foi, j'oublie les doigts; mais je me
souviendrai. Les doigts? je pense qu'ils sont appeles de fingres; oui, de fingres.
Katharine. La main, de hand; les doigts, de fingres. Je pense
que je suis le bon ecolier; j'ai gagne deux mots
d'Anglois vitement. Comment appelez-vous les ongles?
Alice. Les ongles? nous les appelons de nails. Katharine. De nails. Ecoutez; dites-moi, si
je parle bien: de hand, de fingres, et de nails.
Alice. C'est bien dit, madame; il est fort bon Anglois.
Katharine. Dites-moi l'Anglois pour le bras. Alice. De arm, madame.
Katharine. Et le coude? Alice. De elbow.
Katharine. De elbow. Je m'en fais la repetition de tous les
mots que vous m'avez appris des a present. Alice. Il est trop difficile, madame, comme
je pense. Katharine. Excusez-moi, Alice; ecoutez: de
hand, de fingres, de nails, de arma, de bilbow.
Alice. De elbow, madame. Katharine. O Seigneur Dieu, je m'en oublie!
de elbow. Comment appelez-vous le col?
Alice. De neck, madame. Katharine. De nick. Et le menton?
Alice. De chin. Katharine. De sin. Le col, de nick; de menton,
de sin. Alice. Oui. Sauf votre honneur, en verite,
vous prononcez les mots aussi droit que les natifs d'Angleterre.
Katharine. Je ne doute point d'apprendre, par la grace de Dieu,
et en peu de temps. Alice. N'avez vous pas deja oublie ce que
je vous ai enseigne? Katharine. Non, je reciterai a vous promptement:
de hand, de fingres, de mails—
Alice. De nails, madame. Katharine. De nails, de arm, de ilbow.
Alice. Sauf votre honneur, de elbow. Katharine. Ainsi dis-je; de elbow, de nick,
et de sin. Comment appelez-vous le pied et la robe?
Alice. De foot, madame; et de coun. Katharine. De foot et de coun! O Seigneur
Dieu! ce sont mots de son mauvais, corruptible, gros, et impudique,
et non pour les dames d'honneur d'user: je ne
voudrais prononcer ces mots devant les seigneurs de
France pour tout le monde. Foh! le foot et le coun!
Neanmoins, je reciterai une autre fois ma lecon
ensemble: de hand, de fingres, de nails, de arm, de
elbow, de nick, de sin, de foot, de coun. Alice. Excellent, madame!
Katharine. C'est assez pour une fois: allons-nous a diner.
[Exeunt]
Scene 5
The same.
[Enter the KING OF FRANCE, the DAUPHIN, the DUKE oF] [p]BOURBON, the Constable Of France,
and others]
King of France. 'Tis certain he hath pass'd the river Somme.
Constable of France. And if he be not fought withal, my lord,
Let us not live in France; let us quit all And give our vineyards to a barbarous people.
Lewis the Dauphin. O Dieu vivant! shall a few sprays of us,
The emptying of our fathers' luxury, Our scions, put in wild and savage stock,
Spirt up so suddenly into the clouds, And overlook their grafters?
Duke of Bourbon. Normans, but *** Normans, Norman ***!
Mort de ma vie! if they march along Unfought withal, but I will sell my dukedom,
To buy a slobbery and a dirty farm In that nook-shotten isle of Albion.
Constable of France. Dieu de batailles! where have they this mettle?
Is not their climate foggy, raw and dull, On whom, as in despite, the sun looks pale,
Killing their fruit with frowns? Can sodden water,
A drench for sur-rein'd jades, their barley-broth, Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat?
And shall our quick blood, spirited with wine, Seem frosty? O, for honour of our land,
Let us not hang like roping icicles Upon our houses' thatch, whiles a more frosty
people Sweat drops of gallant youth in our rich fields!
Poor we may call them in their native lords. Lewis the Dauphin. By faith and honour,
Our madams mock at us, and plainly say Our mettle is bred out and they will give
Their bodies to the *** of English youth To new-store France with *** warriors.
Duke of Bourbon. 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. King of France. Where is Montjoy the herald?
speed him hence: Let him greet England with our sharp defiance.
Up, princes! and, with spirit of honour edged More sharper than your swords, hie to the
field: Charles Delabreth, high constable of France;
You Dukes of Orleans, Bourbon, and of Berri, Alencon, Brabant, Bar, and Burgundy;
Jaques Chatillon, Rambures, Vaudemont, Beaumont, Grandpre, Roussi, and Fauconberg,
Foix, Lestrale, Bouciqualt, and Charolois; High dukes, great princes, barons, lords and
knights, For your great seats now quit you of great
shames. Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our
land With pennons painted in the blood of Harfleur:
Rush on his host, as doth the melted snow Upon the valleys, whose low vassal seat
The Alps doth spit and void his rheum upon: Go down upon him, you have power enough,
And in a captive chariot into Rouen Bring him our prisoner.
Constable of France. 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 army,
He'll drop his heart into the sink of fear And for achievement offer us his ransom.
King of France. Therefore, lord constable, haste on Montjoy.
And let him say to England that we send To know what willing ransom he will give.
Prince Dauphin, you shall stay with us in Rouen.
Lewis the Dauphin. Not so, I do beseech your majesty.
King of France. 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 6
The English camp in Picardy.
[Enter GOWER and FLUELLEN, meeting]
Gower. How now, Captain Fluellen! come you from the bridge?
Fluellen. I assure you, there is very excellent services
committed at the bridge. Gower. Is the Duke of Exeter safe?
Fluellen. The Duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as Agamemnon;
and a man that I love and honour with my soul, and my
heart, and my duty, and my life, and my living, and
my uttermost power: he is not-God be praised and
blessed!—any hurt in the world; but keeps the
bridge most valiantly, with excellent discipline. There is an aunchient lieutenant there at
the pridge, I think in my very conscience he is
as valiant a man as Mark Antony; and he is a
man of no estimation in the world; but did see him do
as gallant service.
Gower. What do you call him? Fluellen. He is called Aunchient Pistol.
Gower. I know him not. [Enter PISTOL]
Fluellen. Here is the man. Pistol. Captain, I thee beseech to do me favours:
The Duke of Exeter doth love thee well. Fluellen. Ay, I praise God; and I have merited
some love at his hands.
Pistol. Bardolph, a soldier, firm and sound of heart,
And of buxom valour, hath, by cruel fate, And giddy Fortune's furious fickle wheel,
That goddess blind, That stands upon the rolling restless stone—
Fluellen. By your patience, Aunchient Pistol. Fortune is
painted blind, with a muffler afore her eyes, to
signify to you that Fortune is blind; and she is
painted also with a wheel, to signify to you, which
is the moral of it, that she is turning, and inconstant, and mutability, and variation:
and her foot, look you, is fixed upon a spherical
stone, which rolls, and rolls, and rolls: in good
truth, the poet makes a most excellent description
of it: Fortune is an excellent moral.
Pistol. Fortune is Bardolph's foe, and frowns on him;
For he hath stolen a pax, and hanged must a' be:
A damned death! Let gallows gape for dog; let man go free
And let not hemp his wind-pipe suffocate: But Exeter hath given the doom of death
For pax of little price. Therefore, go speak: the duke will hear thy
voice: And let not Bardolph's vital thread be cut
With edge of penny cord and vile reproach: Speak, captain, for his life, and I will thee
requite. Fluellen. Aunchient Pistol, I do partly understand
your meaning. Pistol. Why then, rejoice therefore.
Fluellen. Certainly, aunchient, it is not a thing to rejoice
at: for if, look you, he were my brother, I would
desire the duke to use his good pleasure, and put
him to execution; for discipline ought to be used.
Pistol. Die and be damn'd! and figo for thy friendship!
Fluellen. It is well. Pistol. The fig of Spain!
[Exit]
Fluellen. Very good. Gower. Why, this is an arrant counterfeit
rascal; I remember him now; a bawd, a cutpurse.
Fluellen. I'll assure you, a' uttered as brave words at the
bridge as you shall see in a summer's day. But it
is very well; what he has spoke to me, that is well,
I warrant you, when time is serve. Gower. Why, 'tis a gull, a fool, a rogue,
that now and then goes to the wars, to grace himself at his
return into London under the form of a soldier. And
such fellows are perfect in the great commanders'
names: and they will learn you by rote where services
were done; at such and such a sconce, at such a
breach, at such a convoy; who came off bravely, who
was shot, who disgraced, what terms the enemy
stood on; and this they con perfectly in the phrase
of war, which they trick up with new-tuned oaths:
and what a beard of the general's cut and a horrid
suit of the camp will do among foaming bottles and
ale-washed wits, is wonderful to be thought on. But
you must learn to know such slanders of the age, or
else you may be marvellously mistook. Fluellen. I tell you what, Captain Gower;
I do perceive he is not the man that he would gladly make show
to the world he is: if I find a hole in his coat,
I will tell him my mind.
[Drum heard] Hark you, the king is coming, and I must speak
with him from the pridge.
[Drum and colours. Enter KING HENRY, GLOUCESTER, and Soldiers]
God pless your majesty! Henry V. How now, Fluellen! camest thou from
the bridge? Fluellen. Ay, so please your majesty. The
Duke of Exeter has very gallantly maintained the pridge: the
French is gone off, look you; and there is gallant and
most prave passages; marry, th' athversary was
have possession of the pridge; but he is enforced
to retire, and the Duke of Exeter is master of
the pridge: I can tell your majesty, the duke
is a prave man.
Henry V. What men have you lost, Fluellen? Fluellen. The perdition of th' athversary
hath been very great, reasonable great: marry, for my part,
I think the duke hath lost never a man, but
one that is like to be executed for robbing a church,
one Bardolph, if your majesty know the man: his
face is all bubukles, and whelks, and knobs, and flames
o' fire: and his lips blows at his nose, and
it is like a coal of fire, sometimes plue and sometimes
red; but his nose is executed and his fire's out.
Henry V. We would have all such offenders so cut off: and we
give express charge, that in our marches through the
country, there be nothing compelled from the villages, nothing taken but paid for, none
of the French upbraided or abused in disdainful language;
for when lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom, the
gentler gamester is the soonest winner. [Tucket. Enter MONTJOY]
Montjoy. You know me by my habit. Henry V. Well then I know thee: what shall
I know of thee? Montjoy. My master's mind.
Henry V. Unfold it. Montjoy. Thus says my king: Say thou to Harry
of England: Though we seemed dead, we did but sleep: advantage
is a better soldier than rashness. Tell him we
could have rebuked him at Harfleur, but that we
thought not good to bruise an injury till it were
full ripe: now we speak upon our cue, and our voice
is imperial: England shall repent his folly, see
his weakness, and admire our sufferance. Bid him
therefore consider of his ransom; which must proportion the losses we have borne, the subjects
we have lost, the disgrace we have digested;
which in weight to re-answer, his pettiness would bow
under. For our losses, his exchequer is too poor;
for the effusion of our blood, the muster of his kingdom
too faint a number; and for our disgrace, his
own person, kneeling at our feet, but a weak and
worthless satisfaction. To this add defiance: and
tell him, for conclusion, he hath betrayed his
followers, whose condemnation is pronounced. So far
my king and master; so much my office. Henry V. What is thy name? I know thy quality.
Montjoy. Montjoy. Henry V. Thou dost thy office fairly. Turn
thee back. And tell thy king I do not seek him now;
But could be willing to march on to Calais Without impeachment: for, to say the sooth,
Though 'tis no wisdom to confess so much Unto an enemy of craft and vantage,
My people are with sickness much enfeebled, My numbers lessened, and those few I have
Almost no better than so many French; Who when they were in health, I tell thee,
herald, I thought upon one pair of English legs
Did march three Frenchmen. Yet, forgive me, God,
That I do brag thus! This your air of France Hath blown that vice in me: I must repent.
Go therefore, tell thy master here I am; My ransom is this frail and worthless trunk,
My army but a weak and sickly guard; Yet, God before, tell him we will come on,
Though France himself and such another neighbour Stand in our way. There's for thy labour,
Montjoy. Go bid thy master well advise himself:
If we may pass, we will; if we be hinder'd, We shall your tawny ground with your red blood
Discolour: and so Montjoy, fare you well. The sum of all our answer is but this:
We would not seek a battle, as we are; Nor, as we are, we say we will not shun it:
So tell your master. Montjoy. I shall deliver so. Thanks to your
highness. [Exit]
Duke of Gloucester. I hope they will not come upon us now.
Henry V. We are in God's hand, brother, not in theirs.
March to the bridge; it now draws toward night: Beyond the river we'll encamp ourselves,
And on to-morrow, bid them march away. [Exeunt]
Scene 7
The French camp, near Agincourt:
[Enter the Constable of France, the LORD RAMBURES,] [p]ORLEANS, DAUPHIN, with others]
Constable of France. Tut! I have the best armour of the world. Would it were day!
Duke of Orleans. You have an excellent armour; but let my horse have his due.
Constable of France. It is the best horse of Europe.
Duke of Orleans. Will it never be morning? Lewis the Dauphin. My lord of Orleans, and
my lord high constable, you talk of horse and armour?
Duke of Orleans. You are as well provided of both as any prince in the world.
Lewis the Dauphin. What a long night is this! I will not change my
horse with any that treads but on four pasterns. Ca, ha! he bounds from the earth, as if his
entrails were hairs; le cheval volant, the Pegasus,
chez les narines de feu! When I bestride him, I
soar, I am a hawk: he trots the air; the earth sings when he touches it; the basest horn
of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes.
Duke of Orleans. He's of the colour of the nutmeg.
Lewis the Dauphin. And of the heat of the ginger. It is a beast for
Perseus: he is pure air and fire; and the dull
elements of earth and water never appear in him, but
only in Patient stillness while his rider mounts
him: he is indeed a horse; and all other jades you
may call beasts. Constable of France. Indeed, my lord, it is
a most absolute and excellent horse. Lewis the Dauphin. It is the prince of palfreys;
his neigh is like the bidding of a monarch and his countenance enforces
homage. Duke of Orleans. No more, cousin.
Lewis the Dauphin. Nay, the man hath no wit that cannot, from the
rising of the lark to the lodging of the lamb, vary
deserved praise on my palfrey: it is a theme as
fluent as the sea: turn the sands into eloquent tongues, and my horse is argument for them
all: 'tis a subject for a sovereign to reason on,
and for a sovereign's sovereign to ride on; and for
the world, familiar to us and unknown to lay apart
their particular functions and wonder at him. I
once writ a sonnet in his praise and began thus:
'Wonder of nature,'— Duke of Orleans. I have heard a sonnet begin
so to one's mistress. Lewis the Dauphin. Then did they imitate that
which I composed to my courser, for my horse is my mistress.
Duke of Orleans. Your mistress bears well. Lewis the Dauphin. Me well; which is the prescript
praise and perfection of a good and particular mistress.
Constable of France. Nay, for methought yesterday your mistress shrewdly
shook your back. Lewis the Dauphin. So perhaps did yours.
Constable of France. Mine was not bridled. Lewis the Dauphin. O then belike she was old
and gentle; and you rode, like a kern of Ireland, your French hose off,
and in your straight strossers.
Constable of France. You have good judgment in horsemanship.
Lewis the Dauphin. Be warned by me, then: they that ride so and ride
not warily, fall into foul bogs. I had rather have
my horse to my mistress. Constable of France. I had as lief have my
mistress a jade. Lewis the Dauphin. I tell thee, constable,
my mistress wears his own hair. Constable of France. I could make as true
a boast as that, if I had a sow to my mistress.
Lewis the Dauphin. 'Le chien est retourne a son propre vomissement, et
la truie lavee au bourbier;' thou makest use of any thing.
Constable of France. Yet do I not use my horse for my mistress, or any
such proverb so little kin to the purpose. Rambures. My lord constable, the armour that
I saw in your tent to-night, are those stars or suns upon it?
Constable of France. Stars, my lord. Lewis the Dauphin. Some of them will fall
to-morrow, I hope. Constable of France. And yet my sky shall
not want. Lewis the Dauphin. That may be, for you bear
a many superfluously, and 'twere more honour some were away.
Constable of France. Even as your horse bears your praises; who would
trot as well, were some of your brags dismounted. Lewis the Dauphin. 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.
Constable of France. I will not say so, for fear I should be faced out of
my way: but I would it were morning; for I would
fain be about the ears of the English. Rambures. Who will go to hazard with me for
twenty prisoners? Constable of France. You must first go yourself
to hazard, ere you have them. Lewis the Dauphin. 'Tis midnight; I'll go
arm myself. [Exit]
Duke of Orleans. The Dauphin longs for morning. Rambures. He longs to eat the English.
Constable of France. I think he will eat all he kills.
Duke of Orleans. By the white hand of my lady, he's a gallant prince.
Constable of France. Swear by her foot, that she may tread out the oath.
Duke of Orleans. He is simply the most active gentleman of France.
Constable of France. Doing is activity; and he will still be doing.
Duke of Orleans. He never did harm, that I heard of.
Constable of France. Nor will do none to-morrow: he will keep that good name still.
Duke of Orleans. I know him to be valiant. Constable of France. I was told that by one
that knows him better than you.
Duke of Orleans. What's he? Constable of France. Marry, he told me so
himself; and he said he cared not who knew it
Duke of Orleans. He needs not; it is no hidden virtue in him.
Constable of France. By my faith, sir, but it is; never any body saw it
but his lackey: 'tis a hooded valour; and when it
appears, it will bate. Duke of Orleans. Ill will never said well.
Constable of France. I will cap that proverb with 'There is flattery in friendship.'
Duke of Orleans. And I will take up that with 'Give the devil his due.'
Constable of France. Well placed: there stands your friend for the
devil: have at the very eye of that proverb with 'A
pox of the devil.' Duke of Orleans. You are the better at proverbs,
by how much 'A fool's bolt is soon shot.'
Constable of France. You have shot over. Duke of Orleans. 'Tis not the first time you
were overshot. [Enter a Messenger]
Messenger. My lord high constable, the English lie within
fifteen hundred paces of your tents. Constable of France. Who hath measured the
ground? Messenger. The Lord Grandpre.
Constable of France. A valiant and most expert gentleman. Would it were
day! Alas, poor Harry of England! he longs not for
the dawning as we do. Duke of Orleans. What a wretched and peevish
fellow is this king of England, to mope with his fat-brained followers
so far out of his knowledge!
Constable of France. If the English had any apprehension, they would run away.
Duke of Orleans. That they lack; for if their heads had any
intellectual armour, they could never wear such heavy
head-pieces. Rambures. That island of England breeds very
valiant creatures; their mastiffs are of unmatchable
courage. Duke of Orleans. Foolish curs, that run winking
into the mouth of a Russian bear and have their heads crushed
like rotten apples! You may as well say, that's
a valiant flea that dare eat his breakfast on
the lip of a lion. Constable of France. Just, just; and the men
do sympathize with the mastiffs in robustious and rough coming on,
leaving their wits with their wives: and then give
them great meals of beef and iron and steel, they
will eat like wolves and fight like devils.
Duke of Orleans. Ay, but these English are shrewdly out of beef.
Constable of France. Then shall we find to-morrow they have only stomachs
to eat and none to fight. Now is it time to arm:
come, shall we about it? Duke of Orleans. It is now two o'clock: but,
let me see, by ten We shall have each a hundred Englishmen.
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
Presenteth them unto the gazing moon 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!'
How dread an army hath enrounded him; Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour
End of Act III �