That play'st so subtly with a king's repose;
I am a king, that find thee; and I know,
'Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball,
The sword, the mace, the crown imperial,
The inter-tissued robe of gold and pearl,
The farced' title running 'fore the king,
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;
Who, with a body fill'd, and vacant mind,

Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread;
Never sees horrid night, the child of hell;
But, like a lackey, from the rise to set,
Sweats in the eye of Phoebus, and all night
Sleeps in Elysium; next day, after dawn,
Doth rise, and help Hyperion to his horse;
And follows so the ever-running year,
With profitable labour, to his grave:
And, but for ceremony, such a wretch,
Winding up days with toil, and nights with sleep,
Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king.
The slave, a member of the country's peace,
Enjoys it; but in gross brain little wots,
What watch the king keeps to maintain the peace,
Whose hours the peasant best advantages.
Enter Erpingham.

Erp. My lord, your nobles, jealous of your ab-
sence,

Seek through your camp to find you.

K. Hen.

Mess. The English are embattled, you French peers.

Con. To horse, you gallant princes! straight to
horse!

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,
Good old knight, That our superfluous lackeys, and our peasants,-
Who, in unnecessary action, swarm
About our squares of battle,-were enough
[Exit. To purge this field of such a hilding foc;
Though we, upon this mountain's basis by,
Took stand for idle speculation:

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

I shall do't, my lord.

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

Possess them not with fear; take from them now
The sense of reckoning, if the opposed numbers
Pluck their hearts from them!-Not to-day, O Lord,
O not to-day, think not upon the fault
My father made in compassing the crown!
I Richard's body have interred new;
And on it have bestow'd more contrite tears,
Than from it issued forced drops of blood.
Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay,
Who twice a day their wither'd hands hold up
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.

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

6

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

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

France?

Yon island carrions, desperate of their bones,
Ill-favour'dly become the morning field:
Their ragged curtains" poorly are let loose,
And our air shakes them passing scornfully.
Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar'd host,
And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps.
Their horsemen 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
Lies foul with chew'd grass, still and motionless;
And their executors, the knavish crows,
Fly o'er them all, impatient for their hour.
Description cannot suit itself in words,
To démonstrate the life of such a battle
In life so lifeless as it shows itself.

Con. They have said their prayers, and they stay
for death.

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

f

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,
[Exe. From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered:

Con. I stay but for my guard; On, to the field:
I will the banner from a trumpet take,
And use it for my haste. Comne, come away!
The sun is high, and we outwear the day.

SCENE III.-The English camp. Enter the We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; English host; Gloster, Bedford, Exeter, Salis- For he, to-day that sheds his blood with me, bury, and Westmoreland.

Sal. God's arm strike with us! 'tis a fearful odds.
God be wi' you, princes all! I'll to my charge:
If we no more meet, till we meet in heaven,
Then, joyfully,-my noble lord of Bedford,-
My dear lord Gloster,-and my good lord Exeter,-And
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.
[Exit Salisbury.
Bed. He is as full of valour, as of kindness:
Princely in both.

2

We are but warriors for the working-day:1
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
The gay new coats o'er the French soldiers' heads,
And turn them out of service. If they do this,
(As, if God please, they shall,) my ransom then
Will soon be levied. Herald, save thou thy labour;
Come thou no more for ransom, gentle herald;
They shall have none, I swear, but these my joints:
Which if they have as I will leave 'em to them,
Shall yield them little, tell the constable.

Pist. What are his words?

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

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

Fr. Sol. Petit monsieur, que dit-il ?

Boy. Encore qu'il est contre son jurement, de Mont. I shall, king Harry. And so fare thee well; pardonner aucun prisonnier; neantmoins, pour Thou never shalt hear herald any more. [Exit. les escus que vous l'avez promis, il est content de K. Hen. I fear, thou'lt once more come again for vous donner la liberté, le franchisement.

ransom.

Enter the Duke of York.

York. My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg The leading of the vaward.+

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

And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day!

Fr. Sol. Sur mes genoux, je vous donne mille remerciemens: et je m'estime heureux que je suis tombé entre les mains d'un chevalier, je pense, le plus brave, valiant, et tres distingué seigneur d'Angleterre.

Pist. Expound unto me, boy.

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

[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.-The field of battle. Alarums: England.
Excursions. Enter French Soldier, Pistol, and
Boy.

Pist. Yield, cur.

Fr. Sol. Je pense, que vous estes le gentilhomme de bonne qualité.

Pist. Quality, call you me?-Construe me, art thou a gentleman? What is thy name? discuss. Fr. Sol. O seigneur Dieu!

Pist. O, signieur Dew should be a gentleman:Perpend my words, O signieur Dew, and mark ;O signieur Dew, thou diest on point of fox,' Except, O signieur, thou do give to me Egregious ransom.

Fr. Sol. O, prennez misericorde! ayez pitié de

moy!

Pist. Moy shall not serve, I will have forty moys;
For I will fetch thy rim out at thy throat,
In drops of crimson blood.

Fr. Sol. Est-il impossible d'eschapper la force de ton bras?

Pist. Brass, cur!

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

Fr. Sol. O pardonnez moy!

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

Boy. Suivez vous le grand capitaine.

[Exit French 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. Bardolph, and Nym, had ten times more valour than this roaring devil i'the old play, that every one may pare his nails with a wooden dagger; and they are both hanged; and so would this be, if he durst steal any thing adventurously. I must stay with the lackeys, with the baggage of our camp: the French might have good prey of us, if he knew of it; for there is none to guard it, but boys. [Exit.

a

SCENE V.-Another part of the field of battle.
Alarums. Enter Dauphin, Orleans, Bourbon,
Constable, Rambures, and others.

Con. O diable!

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

Dau. Mort de ma vie ! all is confounded, all! Reproach and everlasting shame

Pist. Say'st thou me so? is that a ton of moys ?-Sits
Come hither, boy; Ask me this slave in French,
What is his name.

Boy. Escoutez; Comment estes-vous appellé ?
Fr. Sol. Monsieur le Fer.

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

Pist. Master Fer! I'll fer him, and firk9 him, and ferret him :-discuss the same in French unto him. Boy. I do not know the French for fer, and ferret, and firk.

Pist. Bid him prepare, for I will cut his throat.
Fr. Sol. Que dit-il, monsieur ?
Boy. Il me commande de vous dire que vous

(1) We are soldiers but coarsely dressed.
(2) Golden show, superficial gilding.
(3) Soiled. (4) Vanguard.

(5) An old cant word for a sword, so called from a famous sword-cutler of the name of Fox.

mocking in our plumes.-O meschante for

tune!Do not run away.

[A short alarum.
Con.
Why, all our ranks are broke.
Dau. O perdurable10 shame!-let's stab ourselves.
Be these the wretches that we play'd at dice for ?
Orl. Is this the king we sent to for his ransom?
Bour. Shame, and 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,11

His fairest daughter is contaminate.

Gower: What call you the town's name where Con. Disorder, that hath spoil'd us, friend us now! Alexander the pig was born? in heaps, go offer up our lives

Let us,
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. The devil take order now! I'll to the
throng;

Let life be short; else, shame will be too long.

[Exeunt. SCENE VI.-Another part of the field.-AlaEnter King Henry and forces; Exeter,

rums.

and others.

Gow. Alexander the great.

Flu. Why, I pray you, is not pig, great? The pig, or the great, or the mighty, or the huge, or the magnanimous, are all one reckoning, 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, you shall find, in the comparisons between Macedon and Monmouth, that the situations, look you, is both alike. There.

K. Hen. Well have we done, thrice-valiant is a river in Macedon; and there is also moreover

countrymen:

But all's not done, yet keep the French the field. Exe. The duke of York commends him to your majesty.

K. Hen. Lives he, good uncle? thrice, within
this hour,

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.
Suffolk first died; and 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:
Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly a-breast;
As, in this glorious and well-foughlen field,
We kept together in our chivalry!

Upon these words I came, and cheer'd him up:
He smil'd me in the face, raught me his hand,
And, with a feeble gripe, says,-Dear my lord,
Commend my service to my sovereign.
So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck
He threw his wounded arm, and kiss'd his lips;
And so, espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd'
A testament of noble-ending love.
The pretty and sweet manner of it forc'd
Those waters from me, which I would have stopp'd; |
But I had not so much of man in me,
But all my mother came into mine eyes,
And gave me up to tears.

K. Hen.
I blame you not;
For, hearing this, I must perforce compound
With mistful eyes, or they will issue too.-Alarum.
But hark! what new alarum is this same ?-
The French have reinforc'd their scatter'd men:-
Then every soldier kill his prisoners;
Give the word through.

a river at Monmouth; 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 his pest friend, Clytus.

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 tales out of my mouth, ere it is made an end and finished. I speak but in the figures and comparisons of it: As Alexander is kill his friend Clytus, being in his ales and his cups; so also Harry Monmouth, in right wits and his goot judgments, is turn away the fat knight with the great pelly doublet: he was full of jests, and gipes, and knaveries, and mocks; I am forget his name.

Gow. Sir John Falstaff.

Flu. That is he: I can tell you, there is goot men porn at Monmouth.

Gow. Here comes his majesty.

Alarum. Enter King Henry, with a part of the
English forces; Warwick, Gloster, Exeter, and
others.

K. Hen. I was not angry since I came to France
Until this instant.-Take a trumpet, herald;
Ride thou unto the horsemen on yon hill;
If they will fight with us, bid them come down
Or void the field; they do offend our sight:
If they'll do neither, we will come to them,
Enforced from the old Assyrian slings:
And make them skirr away, as swift as stones

Besides, we'll cut the throats of those we have;
[Exeunt. And not a man of them, that we shall take,
Ala-Shall taste our mercy:-Go, and tell them so.
Enter Montjoy.

SCENE VII-Another part of the field.
Enter Fluellen and Gower.

rums.

Flu. Kill the poys and the luggage! 'tis expressly against the law of arms: 'tis as arrant a piece of knavery, mark you now, as can be offered, in the 'orld: In your conscience now, is it not?

Exe. Here comes the herald of the French, my liege.

Glo. His eyes are humbler than they us'd to be. K. Hen. How now, what means this, herald? know'st thou not,

Gow. 'Tis certain, there's not a boy left alive; and the cowardly rascals, that ran from the battle, That I have fin'd these bones of mine for ransom ' have done this slaughter: besides, they have burned Com'st thou again for ransom? and carried away all that was in the king's tent; Mont. wherefore the king, most worthily, hath caused I every soldier to cut his prisoner's throat. O, 'tis a gallant king!

Flu. Ay, he was porn at Monmouth, captain (2) Scour.

(1) Reached.

No, great king

come to thee for charitable license,
That we may wander o'er this bloody field,
To book our dead, and then to bury them;
To sort our nobles from our common men;
For many of our princes (wo the while!)
Lie drown'd and soak'd in mercenary blood;

Fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus.

Fu. Your grandfather of famous memory, an't please your majesty, and your great-uncle Edward the plack prince of Wales, as I have read in the chronicles, fought a most prave pattle here in France.

K. Hen. They did, Fluellen.

[tation is as arrant a villain, and a Jack sauce, as ever his plack shoe trod upon Got's ground and his earth, in my conscience, la.

K. Hen. Then keep thy vow, sirrah, when thou meet'st the fellow.

Will. So I will, my liege, as I live.

K. Hen. Who servest thou under?
Will. Under captain Gower, my liege.

Flu. Gower is a goot captain; and is goot knowledge and literature in the wars.

R. Hen. Call him hither to me, soldier.
Will. I will, my liege.

[Exit.
K. Hen. Here, Fluellen; wear thou this favour
for me,
and stick it in thy cap: When Alençon and
myself were down together, I plucked this glove
from his helm: if any man challenge this, he is a
friend to Alençon and an enemy to our person; if
thou encounter any such, appréhend him, an thou
dost love me.

Flu. Your grace does me as great honours, as can be desired in the hearts of his subjects: I would fain see the man, that has but two legs, that shall find himself aggriefed at this glove, that is all; but would fain see it once; an please Got of his grace, that I might see it.

I

K. Hen. Knowest thou Gower?
Flu. He is iny dear friend, an please you.
K. Hen. Pray thee, go seek him, and bring him

Flu. Your majesty savs very true: if your majesties is remembered of it, the Welshman did goot service in a garden where leeks did grow, wearing lecks in their Monmouth caps; which, your majesty to my tent. knows, to this hour is an honourable padge of the service; and, I do believe, your majesty takes no scorn to wear the leek upon Saint Tavy's day.

K. Hen. I wear it for a memorable honour: For I am Welsh, you know, good countryman. Flu. All the water in Wye cannot wash your majesty's Welsh plood out of your pody, I can tell you that: Got pless it and preserve it, as long as it pleases his grace, and his majesty too!

K. Hen. Thanks, good my countryman. Flu. By Cheshu, I am your majesty's countryman, I care not who know it; I will confess it to all the 'orld I need not to be ashamed of your majesty, praised be Got, so long as your majesty is an honest man.

K. Hen. God keep me so!-Our heralds go with
him;

Bring me just notice of the numbers dead
On both our parts.-Call yonder fellow hither.

[Points to Williams. Exe. Mont. and others. Ere. Soldier, vou must come to the king.

K. Hen. Soldier, why wear'st thou that glove in thy cap?

Will. An't please your majesty, 'tis the gage of one that I should fight withal, if he be alive. K. Hen. An Englishman?

Will. An't please your majesty, a rascal, that swaggered with me last night: who, if 'a live, and ever dare to challenge this glove, I have sworn to take him a box o'the ear: or, if I can see my glove in his cap (which he swore, as he was a soldier, he would wear, if alive,) I will strike it out

soundly.

K. Hen. What think you, captain Fluellen? is it fit this soldier keep his oath?

Flu. He is a craven' and a villain else, an't please your majesty, in my conscience.

K. Hen. It may be, his enemy is a gentleman of great sort, quite from the answer of his degree.

Flu. Though he be as goot a gentleman as the tevil is, as Lucifer and Belzebub himself, it is necessary, look your grace, that he keep his vow and his oath: If he be perjured, see you now, his repu(2) High rank.

(1) Coward.

Flu. I will fetch him.

[Exit.

K. Hen. My lord of Warwick,-and my brother
Gloster,

Follow Fluellen closely at the heels:
The glove, which I have given him for a favour,
May, haply, purchase him a box o' the ear;
It is the soldier's; I, 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 vaiiant,
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. [Exeunt.
SCENE VIII.-Before King Henry's Pavilion.
Enter Gower and Williams.

Will. I warrant, it is to knight you, captain.
Enter Fluellen.

Flu. Got's will and his pleasure, captain, I peseech you now, come apace to the king: there is more goot toward you, peradventure, than is in your knowledge to dream of.

Will. Sir, know you this glove?

Flu. Know the glove? I know, the glove is a glove.

Will. I know this; and thus I challenge it. [Strikes him. Flu. 'Sbuld, an arrant traitor, as any's in the universal 'orld, or in France, or in England. Gow. How now, sir? you villain ! Will. Do you think I'll be forsworn? Flu. Stand away, captain Gower; I will give treason his payment into plows, I warrant you. Will. I am no traitor.

Flu. That's a lie in thy throat.-I charge you in his majesty's name, apprehend him; he's a friend of the duke Alençon's.

Enter Warwick and Gloster.
War. How now, how now! what's the matter?

(3) For saucy Jack.