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Enter FLUELLEN.

FLU. Got's plood!"-Up to the preach, you

dogs! avaunt, you cullions!

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[Driving them forward. PIST. 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!

NYм. These be good humours!—your honour wins bad humours.

[Exeunt NYM, PISTOL, and BARDOLPH, followed by FLUELLEN.

Box. As young as I am, I have observed these three 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

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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 lutecase, bore it twelve leagues, and sold it for three halfpence. 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 villainy goes against my weak stomach, and therefore I must cast it up.

[Exit Boy.

Re-enter FLUELLEN, GOWER following. Gow. Captain Fluellen, you must come presently to the mines; the duke of Gloucester would speak with you.

FLU. To the mines! tell you the duke, it is not so goot 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, th' athversary (you may discuss unto the duke, look you,) is digt himself four yard under the countermines: py Cheshu, I think, 'a will plow up all, if there is not petter directions.

Gow. 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. FLU. It is captain Macmorris, is it not? Gow. I think it be.

FLU. Py Cheshu, he is an ass, as in the 'orld: I will verify as much in his peard: he has no more directions in the true disciplines of the wars, look you, of the Roman disciplines, than is a puppy-dog.

Gow. Here 'a comes; and the Scots captain, captain Jamy, with him.

FLU. Captain Jamy is a marvellous falorous gentleman, that is certain; and of great expedition, and knowledge, in the auncient wars, upon my particular knowledge of his directions: py 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.

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MAC. 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!

FLU. Captain Macmorris, I peseech you now, will voutsafe me, you 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 very gude, gude feith, gude captains baith and I sall quit you with gude leve, as I may pick occasion; that sall I, mary.

MAC. It ish no time to discourse, so Chrish save me: the day ish hot, and the weather, and the wars, and the king, and the dukes; it ish no time to discourse. The town ish beseech'd, and the trompet call us to the breach; and we talk, and, by Chrish, do nothing; tish shame for us all: so God sa' me, tish shame to stand still; it ish shame, by my hand: and there ish 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 of mine eyes take themselves to slomber, aile do gude service, or aile ligge i' the grund for it; ay, or go to death; and aile pay't as valorously as I may, that sal I surely do, that is the breff and the long: mary, I wad full fain heard some question 'tween you tway.

FLU. Captain Macmorris, I think, look you, under your correction, there is not many of your

nation

MAC. Of my nation? What ish my nation? ish a villain, and a bastard, and a knave, and a rascal ? What ish my nation? Who talks of my nation ?

FLU. 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; peing as goot a man as yourself, both in the disciplines of wars, and in the derivation of my pirth, and in other particularities.

MAC. I do not know you so good a man as myself: so 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.

villain, and a bastard, and a knave, and a rascal." This is not unlikely; yet it is equally probable, that the incoherence of the original was designed to mark the impetuosity of the speaker.

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K. HEN. 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 deadly murder, spoil, and villainy.
If not, why, in a moment, look to see
The blind and bloody soldier, with foul hand,
Defilet the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters;
Your fathers taken by the silver beards,

And their most reverend heads dash'd to the walls;

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Your naked infants spitted upon pikes,
Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confus'd
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?

Gov. Our expectation hath this day an end:
The Dauphin, whom of succours we entreated,
Returns us-1
-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.

K. HEN. 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'll retire to Calais.
To-night in Harfleur will we be your guest,
To-morrow for the march are we address'd.

[Flourish. The KING, &c. enter the Town.

SCENE IV.-Rouen. A Room in the Palace. Enter KATHARINE and ALICE.

KATH. Alice, tu as été en Angleterre, et tu parles bien le langage.

ALICE. Un peu, madame. KATH. Je te prie, m'enseignez; il faut que j'apprenne à parler. Comment appelez-vous la main, en Anglais ? ALICE. La main? KATH. De hand. ALICE. Les doigts? ma foi, j'oublie les doigts; mais je me souviendrai. Les doigts? je pense, qu'ils sont appelés de fingres; oui, de fingres.

elle est appelée, de hand. Et les doigts?

KATH. La main, de hand! les doigts, de fingres. Je pense, que je suis le bon écolier. J'ai gagné deux mots d'Anglais vêtement. Comment appelez-vous les ongles?

ALICE. Les ongles ? les appelons, de nails. KATH. 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 Anglais.

KATH. Dites-moi l'Anglais pour le bras.
ALICE. De arm, madame.

KATH. Et le coude.

berish put into the mouths of Irish characters in Shakespeare's day, would indicate but a very limited intercourse between this country and the sister Isle.

b Enter Katharine and Alice.] So the quarto: the folio, instead of Alice, has "an old gentlewoman."

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ALICE. De elbow.

KATH. De elbow. Je m'en fais la répétition de tous les mots, que vous m'avez appris dès à présent.

ALICE. Il est trop difficile, madame, comme je pense.

KATH. Excusez-moi, Alice; écoutez: de hand, de fingre, de nails, de arm, de bilbow.

ALICE. De elbow, madame.

KATH. O Seigneur Dieu! je m'en oublie! De elbow. Comment appelez-vous le col?

ALICE. De neck, madame.

KATH. De nick: Et le menton ?
ALICE. De chin.

KATH. De sin. Le col, de nick: le menton, de sin.

ALICE. Oui. Sauf votre honneur; en vérité, vous prononcez les mots aussi droit que les natifs d'Angleterre.

KATH. Je ne doute point d'apprendre par la grace de Dieu, et en peu de temps.

ALICE. N'avez-vous pas déjà oublié ce que je vous ai enseignée ?

KATH. Non, je reciterai à vous promptement: de hand, de fingre, de mails,

ALICE. De nails, madame.

KATH. De nails, de arm, de ilbow.

ALICE. Sauf votre honneur, de elbow. KATH. 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.

KATH. De foot, et de coun! O Seigneur Dieu ces 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. Il faut de foot, et de coun, néanmoins. Je reciterai une autre fois ma leçon ensemble de hand, de fingre, de nails, de arm, de elbow, de nick, de sin, de foot, de coun.

ALICE. Excellent, madame!

KATH. C'est assez pour une fois; allons-nous à dîner. [Exeunt

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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?

BOUR. Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards!

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.

CON. Dieu de battailes! 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 ve 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; (1)
Saying, our grace is only in our heels,
And that we are most lofty runaways.

K. CHA. Where is Montjoy the herald? speed
him hence;

Let him greet England with our sharp defiance.—

(*) Old text omits, may.

Nook-shotten-] "Sholten," according to Warburton, "signifies any thing projected; so nook-shotten isle, is an isle that shoots out into capes, promontories, and necks of land, the very figure of Great Britain." "Nook-shotten isle," however, may mean only, an isle, flung in a corner.

Sur-rein'd-] Perhaps, over-ridden.

Charles De-la-bret,-] Correctly, "Charles D'Albret," but Shakespeare followed Holinshed, who calls the Constable Delabreth.

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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.

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 army,
He'll drop his heart into the sink of fear,
And, for achievement, offer us his ransom.
KING CHA. 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.
DAU. Not so, I do beseech your majesty.
K. CHA. 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 English Camp in Picardy. Enter, severally, GOWER and FLUELLEN. Gow. How now, captain Fluellen? come you from the bridge?

FLU. I assure you, there is very excellent services committed at the pridge.

Gow. Is the duke of Exeter safe?

d Foix,-] The old text has Loys, which was not the name of any French house of distinction, in the books of that time. Knights,-] Old text, kings; altered by Theobald. fAnd, for achievement,-] Should we not read, "And 'fore achievement?" The import being, At sight of our army he will be so intimidated, as to offer us his ransom before we have captured him. In Act IV. Sc. 3, Henry says,

"Bid tl em achieve me, and then sell my bones."

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