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 absence, Seek through your camp to find you. K. Hen. Good old knight, Collect them all together at my tent: I'll be before thee.

Erp.

I shall do't, my lord.

[Exit.

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

Possess them not with fear; take from 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
Toward heaven, to pardon blood; and I have built
Two chantries, where the sad and solemn priests
Sing still for Richard's soul. More will I do :
Though all that I can do, is nothing worth;
Since that my penitence comes after all,
Imploring pardon.

Dau. Mount them,and make incision in their hides; That their hot blood may spin in English eyes, And dout 8 them with superfluous courage: Ha! Ram. What, will you have them weep our horses' blood?

How shall we then behold their natural tears?
Enter a Messenger.

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-ax 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.
That our superfluous lackeys, and our peasants, ·
'Tis positive 'gainst all exceptions, lords,
About our squares of battle,
Who, in unnecessary action, swarm
- were enough
To purge this field of such a hilding 9 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-sonuance ', and the note to mount :

For our approach shall so much dare the field, That England shall couch down in fear, and yield.

Enter GRANDpré.

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

2

Yon island carrions, desperate of their bones,
Ill-favour'dly become the morning field:
Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose,
And our air shakes them passing scornfully,
Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar'd host,
And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps.
Their horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks,
With torch-staves in their hand: and their poor
jades

Lob down their heads, dropping the hides and hips;
The gum down-roping from their pale-dead eyes;
And in their pale dull mouths the gimmal 3 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,

And give their fasting horses provender,

And after fight with them?

Con. I stay but for my guard; On, to the field: I will the banner from a trumpet take, And use it for my haste.

Come, come away!

The sun is high, and we outwear the day.

[Exeunt.

thousand.

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

Sal. God's arm strike with us! 'tis a fearful odds. God be wi' you, princes all; I'll to my charge: If we no more meet, till we meet in heaven, Then joyfully, - my noble lord of Bedford, — My dear lord Gloster, and my good lord Exeter, And my kind kinsman, -warriors all, adieu!

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

Exe. Farewell, kind lord; fight valiantly 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.

West.

O that we now had here
Enter KING HENRY.

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

K. Hen.

O no,

1

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. pray thee, wish not one man more. By Jove, I am not covetous for gold; Nor care I, who doth feed upon my cost; It yearns me not, if men my garments wear; Such outer 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: By heaven! I would not lose so great an honour, As one man more, methinks, 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, to-morrow is saint Crispian :

And say

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,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day: Then shall our names,
Familiar in their mouths as household words, —
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,
From this day to the ending of the world,

4 Grieves.

But we in it shall be remembered:
For he, to-day that sheds his blood with me,
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition 5:
And gentlemen in England, now a-bed,
Shall think themselves accurs'd, they were not here;
And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks
That fought with us upon saint Crispin's day.

Enter SALISBURY.

Sal. My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with speed: The French are bravely in their battles set, And will with all expedience charge on us.

K. Hen. All things are ready, if our minds be so. West. Perish the man, whose mind is backward now!

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

West. By heaven, my liege, 'would you and I alone,
Without more help, might fight this battle out!
K. Hen. Why, now thou hast unwish'd five thou-
sand men ;

Which likes me better, than to wish us one. —
You know your places: God be with you all!
Tucket. Enter MONTJOY.

Mont. Once more I come to know of thee, king
Harry,

If for thy ransome thou wilt now compound,
Before thy most assured overthrow :

-

For, certainly, thou art so near the gulf,
Thou needs must be englutted. Besides, in mercy,
The constable desires thee · thou wilt mind 9
Thy followers of repentance; that their souls
May make a peaceful and a sweet retire
From off these fields, where (wretches) their poor
bodies
Must lie and fester.
K. Hen.

Who hath sent thee now?
Mont. The constable of France.

K. Hen. I pray thee, bear my former answer back; Bid them achieve me, and then sell my bones. Good Heaven! why should they mock poor fellows thus?

The man, that once did sell the lion's skin
While the beast liv'd, was killed 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,
Dying like men, though buried in your dunghills,
They shall be fam'd; for there the sun shall greet
them,

And draw their honours reeking up to heaven.
Let me speak proudly:
:- Tell the constable,
We are but warriors for the working-day :
Our gayness, and our gilt1, 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 ransome then
5. e. This day shall advance him to the rank of a gentleman.
9 Remind.
Gilding.
2 Soiled.

ransome.

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 ransome.

Fr. Sol. 0, 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!

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 appellé ? Fr. Sol. Monsieur le Fer.

Boy. He says, his name is-master Fer. Pist. Master Fer, I'll fer him, and firk 6 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 faites vous prest; car ce soldat icy est disposé toute à cette heure de couper vostre gorge.

Pist. Ouy, couper gorge, par may foy, pesant.
Unless thou give me crowns, brave crowns;
Or mangled shalt thou be by this my sword.

Fr. Sol. 0, je vous supplie pour l'amour de Dieu, me pardonner! Je suis gentilhomme de bonne maison: gardez ma vie, et je vous donneray deux cents escus. Pist. What are his words?.

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

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 très 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 England. Pist. As I suck blood, I will some mercy show.— Follow me, cur. [Exit PISTOL.

Boy. Suivez vous le grand capitaine.

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

[Exit.

Let us die instant: Once more back again;
And he that will not follow Bourbon now,
Let him go hence, with shame and infamy.

Let us, in heaps, go offer up our lives
Con. Disorder, that hath spoil'd us, friend us now!
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. Another Part of the Field.

SCENE VI.

will give you two hundred crowns.

Pist. Tell him, — my fury shall abate, and I

The crowns will take.

and others.

Fre. 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.

Ere. 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-foughten field,
We kept together in our chivalry!

Upon these words I came, and cheer'd him up:
He smil'd me in the face, raught8 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

There

comparisons between Macedon and Monmouth, that the situations, look you, is both alike. is a river in Macedon; and there is also moreover 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, 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, being in his 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

[Exeunt.

SCENE VII. Another Part of the Field. Alarums. Enter FLUELLEN and Gower. 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 offer'd in the 'orld: In your conscience now, is it not?

Gow. 'Tis certain, there's not a boy left alive; and the cowardly rascals, that ran from the battle, have done this slaughter: besides, they have burned and carried away all that was in the king's tent; wherefore the king, most worthily, hath caused every soldier to cut his prisoner's throat. O, 'tis a gallant king!

Flu. Ay, he was porn at Monmouth, captain Gower: What call you the town's name, where Alexander the pig was born?

Gow. Alexander the great.

Flu. Why, I pray you, is not pig, great? The pig, or the great, or the mighty, or the huge, or the magnanimous, are all one reckonings, 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

8 Reached.

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 horseman 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;
And make them skirr9 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,
Shall taste our mercy: - Go, and tell them so.

Enier MONTJOY.

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,
That I have fin'd these bones of mine for ransome?
Com'st thou again for ransome?
Mont.

I come to thee for charitable licence,
No, great king:
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 (woe the while!)
Lie drown'd and soak'd in mercenary blood;
(So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbs
In blood of princes ;) and their wounded steeds
Fret fetlock deep in gore, and, with wild rage,
Yerk out their armed heels at their dead masters,
To view the field in safety, and dispose
Killing them twice. O, give us leave, great king,

Of their dead bodies.

• Scour.