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Of heady murder, 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-Ihrieking daughters ;
Your fathers taken by the silver beards,
And their most reverend heads dasht to the walls ?
Your naked infants spitted upon pikes,
While the mad mothers with their howls confus'd
Do break the clouds ; as did the wives of Jewry,
At Herod's bloody-hunting flaughter-men.
What say you will you yield, and this avoid ?
Or, guilty in defence, be thus destroy'd ?

Enter Governor upon the Walls.
Gov. Our expectation hath this day an end :
The Dauphin, of whom succours we entreated,
Returns us, that his pow'rs are not yet ready
To raise so great a fiege. 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. Henry. Open your gates; come, uncle Exeler,

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 we will be your guest,
To-morrow for the march we are addrest.

[Flourish, and enter the town. S CE N E V.

The French Court.
Enter Catharine, and an old Gentlewoman.

ALICE, tu as été en Angleterre, & tu parles

bien le language. Alice. Un peu, Madame.


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Cath. Je te prie de m'enseigner ; il faut, que j'aprenne à parler. Comment appellez vous la main in Anglois. Alice. La main, ell' eft appellée, de hanil. Cath. De hand.

Et le doyt? Alice. Le doyt? ma foy, je oublie le dort ; mais je me souviendra le doyt; je pense, qu'ils ont appellé des fingres; oui, de fingres

Cath. La main, de hand; le doyt, le fingres. Je pense, que je suis le bon escolier. J' ay gaignée deux mots & Anglois z efiement; comment appellez vous les ongles?

Alice. Les ongles, les appellons de nayles.

Cath. De nagles. Efcoutes : dites moy, si je parle bien: de hand, de fingres, de nagles.

Alice. C'est bien dit, madame ; il est fort von Anglois.
Cath. Dites moy en Anglois, le bras.
Alice. De arme,

Cath. Et le coude.
Alice. D'elbow.

Cath. } elbow : je m'en faitz la repetition de tous les niots, que vous m'avez apprins des a present.

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

Cath. Excuse moy, Alice; escoutez ; d' hand, de fingre, de nyles, d'arme, de bilbow.

Alice. D'elbow, madame.

Cath. O Segineur' Dieu ! je m'en oublie d'elbow ; comment appellez vous le col?

Alice. De neck, madame.
Cath. De neck; & le menton ?
Alice. De chin.
Cath. De fin : le col, de neck : le menton, de fin.

Alice. Oui. Sauf votre honneur, en verité, vous prononces les mots aussi droit, que les natifs d'Angleterre.

Cath. Je ne doute point d'apprendre par la grace de Dieu, en peu de tempis.

Alice. Ñ'avez vous pas deja oublié ce que je vous ay enfrignée ?

Cath. Non, je reciteray à vous promptement; d'hand, de fingres, de nayles, de arme.


Alice. De nayles, madame.
Cath. De nayles, de arme, de ilbow.
Alice. Sauf votre honneur, d' elbow.

Cath. Ainsi, dis je d elbow, de neck, de fin': comment appellez vous les pieds, & de robe ?

Alice. Le foot, madame, & le coun.

Cath. Le foot, « le coun!. O Seigneur Dieu ! ces font des mots mauvais, corruptibles & impudiques, é non pour les dames d'honneur d'ufer : je ne voudrois prononcer ces mots devant les Seigneurs de France, pour tout le monde ; il faut le foot, & le coun, neant-moins. Je reciteray une autrefois ma lecon ensemble; d hand, de fingre, de nayles, d'arme, d' elbow, de neck, de fin, de foot, de coun.

Alice. Excellent, madame.
Cath. C'est alez pour une fois, allons nous en disner.

[Exeunt. SC E N E VI.

Presence- Chamber in the French Court..
Enter the King of France, the Dauphin, Duke of Bourbon

the Constable of France, and others.

Con. 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 barb'rous people.

Dau. 0 Dieu vivant! shall a few fprays of us,
(The emptying of our fathers' luxury.)
Our Syens, put in wild and savage stock,
Sprout up fo suddenly into the clouds,
And over-look their grafters ?

Bour. Normans, but bastard Normans Norman
Mort de ma vie ! if thus they march along
Unfought withal, but I will sell my Dukedom,
To buy a foggy and a dirty farm
In that nook-thotten Isle of Albion.

mettle? Con. Dieu de Batailles! why, whence have they tlris

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Fr. King: "Ti S certain, he hath pass’d the river

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Is not their climate foggy, raw and dull ?
On whom, as in despite, the Sun looks pale,
Killing their fruit with frowns ? can fodden water,
A drench for sur-reyn'd jades, their barly-broth,
Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat ?
And shall our quick blood, fpirited with wine,
Seem frosty ? Oh, for honour of our land,
Let us not hang like frozen isicles
Upon our house-tops, while more frosty people
Sweat drops of gallant blood in our rich fields :
Poor (we may call them) in their native Lords.

Dau. By faith and houour,
Our madams mock at us, and plainly say,
Our mettle is bred out; and they will give
Their bodies to the lus of Englisk youth,
To new-store France with bastard warriors.

Bour. They bid us to the English dancing fchools,
And teach Lavolta's high, and swift Curranto's;
Saying, our grace is only in our heels;
And that we are most lofty run-aways.
Fr. King. Where is Mountjoy, the herald ? speed him

hence ; Let him greet England with our sharp defiance. Up, Princes, and with spirit of honour edg d, Yet sharper than your swords, bie to the field : Charles Delabreth, high constable of France; You, dukes of Orleans, Bourbon, and of Berry, Alanson, Brabant, Bar and Burgundy, Jaques Chatillion, Rambures, Vaudemont, Beaumont, Grandpree, Rousie, and Faulconbridge, Loys, Leftraile, Bouciqualt, and Charaloys, HighDukes, greatPrinces, Barons, Lords and Knights; For your great seats now quit you of great shames : Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our land With penons painted in the blood of Harfleur : Rush on his hoft, as doth the melted snow Upon the vallies; whose low vallal feat The Alps doth spit and void his rheum upon.


Go down upon him, (you have pow'r enough,)
And in a captive chariot into Roan
Bring him our prisoner.

Con. This becomes the great.
Sorry am I, his numbers are so few,
His soldiers sick, and famisht 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 atchievement offer us his ransom.
Fr. King. Therefore, Lord Constable, hafte on

Mountjoy ;
And let him say to England, that we send
To know what willing ransom he will give.
Prince Dauphin, you lhall stay with us in Roan.

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. S CE N E VII.

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The English Camp.

Enter Gower and Fluellen. Gower. OW now, captain Fluellen, come you

from the bridge ? Flu. I allure you, there is very excellent services committed at the pridge.

Gower. 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, ,

my living, and my uttermost power. He is not, God be praised and plessed, any hurt in the world ; he is maintain the pridge most valiantly, with excellent discipline. There is an Ancient lieutenant there at the pridge. ! think, in my very conscience, he is as valiant

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